First Thing: At least 27 Palestinians killed by Israeli fire at food point, Gaza officials say
Israeli forces killed at least 27 Palestinians as they waited for food at a distribution point set up by an Israeli-backed foundation in Gaza on Tuesday, according to health officials in the territory.
It is the third time people have been shot waiting for food in three days, with Israel admitting for the first time during the recent events that its soldiers shot at people who were approaching them.
The Gaza civil defence spokesperson Mahmoud Bassal told Agence France-Presse: 'Israeli forces opened fire with tanks and drones on thousands of civilians who had gathered since dawn near the al-Alam roundabout in the al-Mawasi area, north-west of Rafah.'
Gaza's health ministry said 27 people were killed early on Tuesday, with the International Committee of the Red Cross confirming that its Rafah hospital received 184 injured people – 19 of whom were already dead on arrival and eight more who subsequently died of their wounds.
What is the Israel-backed foundation? Amid Israel's aid blockade, the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation recently took over the handling of food aid. But the UN has objected, saying it cannot meet the population's needs and lets Israel use food as a weapon.
A man is facing a federal hate crime charge for allegedly attacking a Colorado rally for Israeli hostages in Gaza with a makeshift flamethrower and molotov cocktails, injuring 12 people.
Mohamed Sabry Soliman, 45, is alleged to have shouted 'Free Palestine' as he attacked the crowd in Boulder on Sunday. The FBI said he told police he planned the attack for a year and had specifically targeted what he labeled as the 'Zionist group'.
The Boulder county district attorney told the press on Monday that Soliman would be prosecuted for a federal hate crime and 16 counts of attempted murder. Eight people were treated in hospital following the attack.
Is the attack linked to any group? Officials said there was no indication of that.
Prosecutors in Milwaukee have charged a man with four felonies over his attempt to stitch up an undocumented immigrant by sending forged letters in his name with a threat to kill Donald Trump.
The handwritten, fake letters were sent to Wisconsin's attorney general, Milwaukee police and US Immigration & Customs Enforcement (Ice), and became a huge story after the White House and Trump's backers discussed them, believing them to be genuine. Kristi Noem, the homeland security secretary, was among those who fell for the hoax, releasing a statement lauding immigration authorities for arresting the undocumented man.
But WISN-TV reported on Monday that a criminal complaint alleges that Demetric Scott admitted to authorities he wrote the letters in the name of Ramon Morales-Reyes, whom he was previously charged with assaulting.
How was the hoax revealed? It began to unravel after one of Morales-Reyes' children told an immigrant rights group that he cannot read or write in either Spanish or English.
Peru's culture ministry has cut the protected archaeological park around the iconic pre-Columbian Nazca Lines almost by half, with critics warning it will weaken environmental protections and expose the area to illegal mining.
Salem police have arrested a man in connection with a mass stabbing that injured 12 people at a homeless shelter on Sunday evening.
Climate-led species' collapse is emptying nature reserves of insects, entomologists have warned, even in regions free of pesticides.
A man identifying himself as one of the prisoners who escaped from a New Orleans jail last month has posted videos on social media to plead his case to the public and claim that he was 'let out' of prison.
Fewer than one in five western Europeans hold a positive view of Israel, a poll of six countries has found, as its public support continues to fall. The YouGov survey found that between Germany, France, Denmark, the UK, Italy and Spain, only between 13% and 21% of respondents in any country had a favorable opinion of Israel. In three countries – Germany, Denmark, and France – public support had plummeted to the lowest point since polling began in 2016.
With 400 million subscribers, MrBeast is undeniably one of the most popular entertainers around. (For context, this is also approximately the number of native English speakers globally.) The 27-year-old content creator, whose real name is Jimmy Donaldson, is 'monomaniacally committed to a lethally pure conception of algorithmically determined entertainment', writes Mark O'Connell in this look at what, in his view, makes the YouTuber 'some type of genius'.
Vanuatu's climate minister has criticized Australia for extending one of the world's biggest liquefied natural gas projects, which experts warned could be lead to up to 6bn tonnes of greenhouse gases being emitted in future decades. Ralph Regenvanu told the Guardian that the decision raises questions over its bid to co-host the Cop31 summit with Pacific nations.
An adventurous dog called Amber has been rescued after going on a 100-mile solo walk in southern England that even involved doggy-paddling to an island, before being picked up by a passing ferry. Amber was said to be doing well considering her efforts, with the woman who had been fostering the animal saying: 'What a girl!'
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Times
17 minutes ago
- Times
Divided over Gaza: the Israeli soldiers who fight on and those who refuse
Like many young Israelis, Captain Ron Feiner had spent hundreds of days since the October 7 attacks as a reservist — in his case 270. But when he got his fourth and most recent call-up in May to serve in Gaza, he refused. He could have cited medical or psychological reasons, so-called 'grey refusal', but the 26-year-old student at Haifa University wanted to make a point. 'I am appalled by the never-ending war in Gaza, the neglect of the hostages and the relentless death of innocents,' he said publicly. 'I am morally unable to continue serving as long as there is no change.' Last month the platoon commander became only the second reservist to be jailed for refusal to serve. 'I had been thinking about it a long time,' he told The Sunday Times. 'But to refuse to stop serving is very unusual and can have consequences for your future.' Feiner was speaking at his parents' house in the rural town of Ben Ami, western Galilee, where he had been staying to protect himself from the threat of Iranian missiles, many of which were fired at Haifa. Sentenced to 25 days in prison, he ended up serving only one, because he was released on the first day of the war against Iran. The commander of the military jail wanted to reduce the number of inmates in case of a missile strike. Like most Israelis, he was positive about that war — not just because it got him out of jail — but also seeing it as a strategic and lightning success. He was, however, 'highly suspicious about the timing' given that Binyamin Netanyahu, the Israeli prime minister, had been facing mounting protests against the war in Gaza in the preceding weeks. Now Feiner hopes that President Trump, in his quest for a Nobel peace prize, will push Netanyahu to end the war in Gaza, having helped him out last weekend by dropping bunker-buster bombs on Iran's nuclear plants. Ron Dermer, Israel's minister for strategic affairs, is expected at the White House on Monday and there is widespread speculation of a new deal. 'We think within the next week we're gonna get a ceasefire,' Trump told reporters on Friday night. 'I think it's close. I just spoke with some of the people involved. It's a terrible situation.' After 20 months of fighting, Israel is still mired in a grinding war of attrition and facing growing international condemnation. Much of the Gaza Strip lies in ruins and more than 50,000 Palestinians have been killed or have died of hunger, according to the Hamas-run health ministry. On Saturday, Israeli strikes killed at least 60 in the strip, health officials said. The past two weeks have seen horrific scenes of hundreds of Palestinians shot while queuing at distribution centres run by a controversial new Israeli-American operation run by Trump's former faith adviser. Such images have quietened the worldwide outrage over October 7, when 1,200 Israelis were slaughtered by Hamas and more than 250 taken as hostages to Gaza. When the attacks happened in 2023, Feiner was among thousands who volunteered immediately, having previously served for four years in the army. 'I packed my bags even before I was called,' he said. 'I was hearing what was happening at the Nova festival and got messages about people I knew who had died that day — men who had been under my command in the army. So I came home from university, took my mum's car and was ready to go.' Many felt the same. About 300,000 Israelis showed up for reserve service — the largest recruitment since the Yom Kippur War in 1973. Initially, Feiner was sent to the northern border with Lebanon. 'The assumption was that Hezbollah would join in the fight and maybe they would have if we hadn't gone there in such big numbers,' he said. But as operations dragged on in Gaza, he began to have doubts. 'They said they wanted to destroy Hamas, but Hamas is still there. They said they wanted to bring the hostages back and we had a deal to do that, but they ended the ceasefire. They said they wanted to end the war as soon as possible so we could get back to our lives and education, but we're all serving as reservists for 300 or 400 days. They said they're doing all they can to prevent humanitarian crisis in Gaza and not kill civilians, but that's not what we see.' When Feiner was called last month to join Israel's offensive, which had restarted on March 18 after the collapse of a two-month ceasefire with Hamas, he refused. Israel had once again blocked humanitarian aid from entering the strip and seized large areas of Gaza, displacing hundreds of thousands more people. Meanwhile 50 hostages remain, 24 of whom are believed to be alive. 'It was clear to me they were not trying to end the war and it's OK for them to keep hostages there in the tunnels as an excuse for Netanyahu to keep the war going and stay in power. To me that was a bright red line.' Feiner is not alone. Like him, Yuval Ben Ari, a social worker in Haifa, had been enthusiastic about serving after October 7 — even though the former infantryman had previously quit the army in protest against operations in the West Bank. 'I was 41 but still in shape and when October 7 happened I could see this was something else and we needed people,' he said. It took him almost a year to join a unit, but became part of the ground offensive in Lebanon from November 2024 to January. After that he was sent to Rafah, a southern city of Gaza. 'I was completely shocked,' he said opening his laptop to show photos of ruins. 'Everything was completely destroyed. This was a school, that was a university … Yet after a while it becomes your normal.' 'All I could see was shooting and killing and relocation, so two million people are now in less than 20 per cent of Gaza and constantly being moved from place to place. The Israeli army doesn't look at them as humans any more, just waiting for them to die.' Eventually, he got a lift to the border, returned to his base and handed over his hand grenade, weapon, ammunition and combat gear. 'I told them what you are doing is wrong, apart from the fact you are sacrificing the hostages, and needs to stop.' He wrote an anonymous article for the liberal paper Haaretz headlined: 'What I saw in Gaza: A Soldier's Warning.' Not only did he lambast the destruction and killing, he also warned: 'The reserves are collapsing. Anyone who shows up is already indifferent, bothered by personal problems or by other matters. Children, lay-offs, studies, spouses.' With the war now going for 632 days, large numbers of reservists have been in uniform for more than half of them and tens of thousands have served for more than 200 days — a magnitude unprecedented in Israel's history. Spending so much time away from family and work, people have lost jobs and relationships. However, helicopters flying over the beaches of Tel Aviv bringing the wounded to the military hospital tell of another cost. Since the start of the war, 435 Israeli soldiers have been killed in Gaza and 6,000 injured. Many reservists have been quietly refusing to go back. Some reports suggest attendance has dropped to as little as 50 to 60 per cent. Recruiters are resorting to advertising on Facebook. For a military that depends heavily on reservists to fight its wars, it's a looming crisis and has made even more unpopular Netanyahu's push for a law enshrining the widespread military exemption for Haredi or ultra-orthodox Jews. Haredi parties are key allies in his governing coalition. Such a move has angered the more committed reservists. Matan Yaffe, 40, a Harvard graduate and social entrepreneur, who has served 350 days since October 7, admits as a married father of five boys aged four to 12, that 'military service has affected everything — my wife worries, I miss my sons and I had to step away from running my NGO'. He said: 'But October 7 affected our existence, whether we could live here or not and the price we're prepared to pay for being here.' As for many, it was personal. A friend's parents-in-law were murdered in Be'eri kibbutz and another friend, Omri Miran, is still being held hostage. On his way to enlist, Yaffe set up a crowdfunding emergency appeal which raised eight million shekels for the victims of the attacks. He has done two tours of Gaza from November 2023 to January last year followed by April to June as well as two stints in the north of Israel. He was called up again last month. Like Feiner and Ben Ari, he was shocked by what he saw, but in a different way. 'What struck me most was I can hardly remember a single home that didn't have bombs, ammunition, RPGs — often in the kids' rooms. Or they had entrances to tunnels. We have all this discussion about how much Hamas is being supported by the people, but when you get there you see it's 90 per cent. It's mind-blowing.' Asked why so many Palestinians are being killed, including women and children, he insists: 'Hamas want destruction and killing. We need the people of Gaza to tell Hamas we don't want you.' 'I'm not saying there aren't atrocities happening in Gaza and some might be committed by us,' he added. 'But this war was forced on us by October 7 and we're not killing people or demolishing buildings because we want to — it's because we must diminish the threat.' 'No one wants to be there,' he said. 'I'm a social entrepreneur who sets up NGOs to make the world better. It's shit to be there, but I want to be able to raise my sons and know no one will be able to slaughter my wife or take them into the tunnels of Gaza.' But the longer the war goes on, with a mounting death toll and images of starving children spread on social media, the harder it is for Israel to claim, as its officials often do, that its military is the most moral army in the world. Last week, The Sunday Times spoke to a lawyer attached to a battalion in Gaza who explained how they signed off on attacks. He said the three criteria for an offensive were: 'distinction' (whether it is distinguished as a military target), 'proportionality', and 'precautions'. 'This is complex urban warfare fighting an enemy embedded in the population and you cannot imagine how much we are doing everything to avoid civilian casualties,' he said. 'It's like fighting with our hands tied behind our backs. We use the smallest munitions to avoid collateral damage. Not everything is perfect but if we there is any reports of misconduct, we investigate.' Among those investigations was a report released on Friday from unnamed Israeli soldiers who said they had been told to fire at crowds near food distribution sites to keep them away from Israeli military positions, even though they posed no threat. Netanyahu dismissed the reports as 'blood libel'. Israel has been accused of war crimes in the International Criminal Court and International Court of Justice. 'I've been in the aid sector 42 years and never seen anything like this,' said Dr Younis Al-Khatib, head of Palestine Red Crescent Society, who was in London last week meeting parliamentarians and ministers. 'What's going on in Gaza, with the ignoring of international law and militarisation of aid delivery, is setting a dangerous precedent.' Though his organisation has 1,000 staff in Gaza and several thousand volunteers, he said they are 'useless' in the face of a near-total Israeli blockade on water, medicine, fuel and food. 'We're facing an iron wall,' he said. 'Children are dying from starvation and we cannot do anything. We've reached a point where we're useless, we're doing less day after day.' Although being in Israel can sometimes feel like a parallel world with little discussion of the plight of people in Gaza, things are changing, said Yali Maron and Maayan Dak, both human rights activists. The pair organise weekly silent protests outside airbases in Israel, holding up photos of children killed in Gaza with their names and dates of death. 'We live near a base,' explains Maron, 'and since the beginning I've been shouting at the skies: 'Stop! You are killing people.' So we decided to go directly to the people who can stop it.' 'For a long time it was taboo to say anything against what was happening in Gaza but in the last few months since Israel ended the ceasefire that has changed. Now thousands of people are protesting.' In April an open letter was published, signed by 1,000 air force reservists and retired officers. 'The continuation of the war does not contribute to any of its declared goals and will lead to the death of the hostages,' they wrote. 'Every day that passes is further risking their lives.' Since then similar letters have appeared from almost every branch of the military, including elite fighting and intelligence units, and highly decorated commanders with more than 12,000 signatures. One retired general, Amiram Levin, even said it was time for soldiers to think about disobeying orders. 'The risk of being dragged into war crimes and suffering a fatal blow to the Israel Defence Forces and our social ethos make it impossible to stand idly by,' he wrote. Nobody feels more strongly about the need to end the war than the families of hostages still being held in Gaza. Dani Miran, 80, has a long white beard he has been growing since his son, Omri, 48, was abducted from the Nahal Oz kibbutz where he worked as a gardener and Shiatsu teacher. Standing in what is known as Hostages Square in Tel Aviv, he wears a T-shirt with a photo of Omri playing with his daughter, Roni, now three. 'She asks about him every day,' he said. While his two other sons are more hawkish, believing the war in Gaza is needed to exert military pressure on Hamas to release their brother, he wants it over. 'I feel Netanyahu is more interested in his own survival than bringing back the hostages but maybe now he is on a high from Iran he can turn to our abandoned children.' On Friday night some family members met Marco Rubio, US Secretary of State, and his wife to convey the same message. 'Now the war with Iran is over we should make ending the war in Gaza the most important thing,' said Ilan Dalal, father of Guy Gilboa-Dalal, 24, who was kidnapped from the Nova festival along with his best friend, Evyatar David. 'We know from others released they are being held in a very narrow tunnel just one metre wide, beaten, starved and kept chained most of the time. The tunnel is booby-trapped and there could be an accident anytime — we need to get them out.'
Reuters
25 minutes ago
- Reuters
Clerics accuse West Bank settlers of attacking Christian sites
TAYBEH, West Bank, July 14 (Reuters) - Christian leaders accused Israeli settlers on Monday of attacking sacred sites in the West Bank, in violence that one said was forcing some to consider quitting the occupied territory. The Greek Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem, Theophilos III - visiting the Christian town of Taybeh with other Jerusalem-based clerics - said settlers had started a fire near a cemetery and a 5th century church there last week. "These actions are a direct and intentional threat to our local community ... but also to the historic and religious heritage," the patriarch told diplomats and journalists at a press conference in Taybeh. Settlers had also attacked homes in the area, he said. "We call for an immediate and transparent investigation on why the Israeli police did not respond to emergency calls from the local community and why these abhorrent actions continue to go unpunished," he added. Israel's government spokesperson did not immediately respond to a Reuters request for comment. Israel's government had previously said that any acts of violence by civilians are unacceptable and that individuals should not take the law into their own hands. During the visit, the heads of the churches led locals in prayer as candles flickered in the ruins of the 5th century church of St George. They spoke with residents who described their fears. B'Tselem and other rights groups say settler violence in the West Bank has risen since the start of Israel's war against Palestinian militant group Hamas in Gaza in late 2023. Dozens of Israelis have also been killed in Palestinian street attacks in recent years and the Israeli military has intensified raids across the West Bank. Palestinian health authorities and witnesses said two men, including a U.S. citizen, were killed by settlers during a confrontation on Friday night. Fears over violence were pushing Christians to leave the West Bank, Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, the Roman Catholic Patriarch of Jerusalem since 2020, said. "Unfortunately, the temptation to emigrate is there because of the situation," he added. "This time it's very difficult to see how and when this will finish, and especially for the youth to talk about hope, trust for the future." Around 50,000 Christian Palestinians live in Jerusalem and in the West Bank, an area that includes many of the faith's most sacred sites including Bethlehem where believers say Jesus was born. Around 700,000 Israeli settlers live among 2.7 million Palestinians in the West Bank and East Jerusalem, territories Israel captured from Jordan in the 1967 war, which Palestinians see as part of a future state.
The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
‘I had a home, apartment, career' … the Guardian's Gaza diarist on the life he lost – and his journey into exile
On the morning of 7 October 2023, the author of the Guardian's Gaza diary woke up planning to play tennis. 'This year I decided to take care of my mental and physical health,' he wrote in his first entry, published six days later. 'This means no stress, no negative energy and definitely more tennis.' Instead, with the news full of how Hamas had broken out of the territory, killing 1,200 people, he found himself scrambling desperately for the documents showing he owned his apartment in Gaza City, in the north of the strip. 'If our building gets bombed, I need evidence that this apartment belongs to me,' he wrote. The thirtysomething had long been used to what Palestinians in Gaza called 'situations' – escalations in the battle between the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and Hamas. But he soon realised this situation was different. Israel's response has, so far, killed more than 57,000 and left 1.9 million people – 90% of the Gazan population – displaced. On 13 October, Gaza City's residents were told to evacuate and head south. 'It feels like 1948,' the diarist wrote, a reference to the Nakba ('catastrophe'), when 700,000 Palestinians were expelled from a newly independent Israel. 'It is group migration,' he said. 'There are many people walking while carrying their children and their bags because they couldn't find a car. Some people are leaving in buses and others in the back of trucks. Whenever they see people walking, they invite them to jump in. It breaks my heart.' His diaries were full of questions. 'Is the abnormal going to become the normal? Is two weeks of misery all it takes?' A gentle man, he looks back at what he wrote at that time and says: 'I see all these questions I was asking. I had no answers back then. Now I've seen how it turned out. And it was horrible.' I've known him for perhaps five years, so find myself in the odd position of interviewing someone who exudes life – but who now, afraid for that life, is retreating ever further into secrecy and darkness. The prospect of these diaries, which ran over six months and 48 columns in the Guardian, being published as a book has been causing him panic attacks. More than 180 journalists have been killed in Gaza since October 2023 (some sources suggest that figure is closer to 210). So the book is credited to Anonymous – not even a pseudonym. So, forgive me if certain details here are hazy. The diarist and I first met because I try to help young journalists in authoritarian states and war zones to get published in English language media. He was the perfect candidate, wanting to tell the stories we normally don't hear from Gaza – of musicians, sportspeople, even the trouble Palestinian men have with crying. He says of his life then: 'I had a home, an apartment, a career, friends, normal things that no one thinks about, like the pharmacist in my street handing me my medicine, knowing I'd pay on my next visit.' He's in his 30s, and one of Gaza's intellectuals: middle-class Palestinians are known for their education throughout the Middle East. His parents are dead, and he lived with his sister, their cats and a goldfish. 'Before 7 October, there were many places around me that had witnessed me feeling happy, laughing, crying,' he says. As the IDF began its assault, first in retribution, then in annihilation, he sent me news of his new life between falling bombs. At the time, I was struck by how his diary entries arrived devoid of the sectarian fury that sticks like phosphorus to all opinions on Israel/Palestine. What emerged were descriptions of the reality of the people around him, innocent people, told in his simple poetic style. Now, he talks of how important it was for him to portray Palestinians in Gaza as normal – particularly the men, who are often seen as monsters. 'The men are nice people, they have feelings. They are not some kind of a different species.' In the first fortnight of the war, he had to evacuate three times, to a friend's house, to another friend's house and then, when they, too, had to evacuate, to a house in a town in the south of the Gaza Strip, belonging to a man called Ahmad, who didn't know them but took them in regardless. 'My sister and I are among the lucky ones,' he wrote. The unlucky were those collecting in the schools and open spaces, who he would visit with fresh water. 'The school is no longer an educational entity,' he wrote. 'It is literally a camp.' He wrote about the changes in those around him. 'Making decisions was the most difficult thing,' he says now. 'I know people who distributed their children among different homes, so that if one house got bombed, the rest would live. Too often, they were right to do so.' His goldfish didn't last, but he and his sister went to great lengths to keep their cats alive. They became a motif that attracted a remarkable number of the Guardian's readers. Saving them, even putting himself in danger to do so, became an act of faith and a point of dark humour. A friend wrote to say she had created a 'prayer bubble' to keep him safe, and he asked for the cats to be included. There were other stories: 'I go with Ahmad to get some stuff for the house. On our way, we see a boy of about 14 walking with what seems like his two younger sisters. They are holding bags of crisps in their hands, unopened. He tells them: 'Eat your crisps before we get bombed and die.'' And, of course, there was news of deaths: 'I wonder how scared my friend was. Was he hugging his girls when they all died?' He settled into his anything but routine life with his host family, all the while expressing his luck to have such shelter. At moments of despair, he would refer to a piece of poetry, such as Mary Elizabeth Frye's Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep. 'Do not stand by my grave and weep / I am not there. I do not sleep / I am a thousand winds that blow.' There were moments of intense fear, when bombs landed nearby, or further moves were contemplated. And there were moments when the internet was cut, leaving him isolated. Worried messages would then flood in from readers, and I would hear from Tracy, the outwardly hard-bitten editor on the Guardian who became his most concerned and loyal supporter. He never lost his spirit, though. 'There was this awful seed of hope inside of me,' he says now. 'It never died. But deciding to remain hopeful was very difficult and it took a lot of energy.' Ahmad's family was large. At times there were 35 people in the house. There was Ahmad's mother, grandmother to three children who were also there. She kept everyone alive, somehow creating at least one meal a day. 'Gaza's children hadn't been able to go to school because of Covid,' he tells me. 'Then came the war. So there are children who are eight years old who don't know how to write their name. The grandmother used to dedicate an hour of her day to teaching her grandchildren. How come she's not known as one of the most impressive people ever?' Early in the diaries, he revisited a subject, reporting that Gazan men do cry: 'I saw one collapsed building with three men standing opposite, looking at it, and heavy tears were falling from their eyes.' Then came the day the diaries stopped. The diarist, his sister and the cats had crossed Gaza's southern border, to become exiles. I asked him to keep writing, and he has, but he no longer wanted to publish. He said he was too identifiable, that the danger was far from over. 'And what about when I return?' he asked. There was also his overwhelming guilt that he had managed to survive and get out. 'Ahmad's family, who hosted us, are still in Gaza. And you know what? In this very tough moment, when people are starving, every time I talk to them, they say, 'We are fine. We are managing.' And I know that they are not managing – they weren't managing when I was there. Those great people, who helped others, who welcomed me and my sister, oh my God, I will always be for ever in debt to them.' He pauses to collect himself, then adds: 'It seems that those who were killed were the lucky ones, because they did not have to see what came next.' He prefers not to reveal too much about his life now, or where he is, but is happy to talk about exile. 'It feels like your soul has been snatched out of your body,' he says. 'What are we as human beings, if not our stories and memories and moments? If you walk by a street and remember: 'Here, I met my friends,' or: 'Here I held someone's hand who I was in love with,' or: 'Here I cried,' or: 'Here I buried my mother.' If those things are taken, what is left?' Having looked after his family within Gaza, he now finds himself struggling to look after himself. 'A friend gave me a plant and I had a panic attack. I cannot commit to a plant.' At present, he is surrounded by fellow refugees, and has noticed a new decisiveness. 'I know people who decided to get a divorce. When they were in Gaza, they couldn't because of the traditions. Now they say, 'We were about to be wiped off the earth, so at least let me live the life I wanted.'' Others have taken different directions. He has heard of people turning to drugs, alcohol, sex, 'or hurting the people in their lives, being physically aggressive'. He instead has returned to sport. 'So I'm blessed, until this moment.' He has to keep moving, he says. His sister tells him they have to stay ahead of tragedy. 'She says, 'This is history repeating itself. It's not something new.'' And all the while, he swings from hope to despair. 'I met a guy, not Gazan, who is working hard because he wants to get an apartment, and I said, 'Please take time to smell the flowers. Take time to enjoy your life. You can lose it all in a moment.'' His hopes of returning to Gaza have been fading. He tells me to look at Google satellite images of Gaza. I do and it is horrifying, but he says it's more about the people. A friend was talking about how entire peoples can be eclipsed – the Native Americans, say, or Indigenous Australians. 'I replied, 'Are you telling me that in 100 or 200 years, when people think about the culture in this land next to Egypt, they will say, 'Well, there were people here called the Gazans, but then a new culture came. We should apologise to those Gazans'? Are you telling me we will end up being a line in someone's story?' Having received his diaries in real time, I have of course spent much of the last 21 months thinking about my friend, a bit like a helpless idiot calling down to someone at the bottom of a well. But I believe, strongly, that while his instinct has been to write as an anonymous everyman, this is no diary of a nobody. It has felt like the diary of a point of light, moving through a darkening landscape, one among millions of points of light, being eclipsed one by one. The clock has ticked round to 1am as we talk. I ask who he hates. 'Believe it or not, I don't hate anyone,' he says. 'It is not my nature, hating people.' I ask about the cats. 'Oh, they have grown fat!' It's late, but he wants to keep talking. 'I miss sleeping well,' he says. Who Will Tell My Story? by Anonymous (Guardian Faber, £12.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply.
