In the last issue of Hot Press, we told the story of the Gazan people living in a city under bombardment. We thought we were reporting on a humanitarian crisis of the most critical sort. As it turns out, it was simply the beginning of an increasingly murderous and utterly immoral campaign.

At the time of going to press two weeks ago, the death toll was over 640. As this issue goes to bed, it stands at 1,865. A three-day truce has just been announced, but there’s little confidence on either side of the Gaza/Israeli border that it will hold. Prior to its declaration, children were killed in their sleep when UN facilities were shelled. A large part of the Islamic University – described by Israel as “a weapon development centre” – was destroyed. Infrastructure, including Gaza’s only power station, has been attacked, leaving hundreds of thousands without electricity, communications and water.
In our report, we spoke to a young journalist in Gaza City, Noor Harazeen, who told us how people feared that, “Their son will be walking and they’re just going to target and kill him.” Her words were horribly prophetic. The day after the magazine hit the shelves, her cousin, Waleed Harazeen, was shot dead by sniper fire.
“He is 5-years-old and the sniper decided to assassinate him and shoot little Waleed in the head,” she messaged in-between power cuts. “This was has affected me like never before. After 23 days of working intensively on the ground in Gaza, and after enduring the pain of losing your loved ones, I got the worst summer flu with fever. It kept me powerless and paralysed. We have never faced such a situation. War + no electricity + no water + worst mobile communications + worst internet. In a few days Gaza will run out of fuel, shops will run out of food. Internet and mobile communications could go off soon. Gaza will be starving and isolated from the world.”
A few days earlier, Noor had reported: “Israeli warplanes just targeted a garden playground full of children in western Gaza. At least 10 children were killed and more than 50 injured.”
The 25-year-old translator we talked to in our last issue, Awni Farhat, was lucky to survive last week when his neighbourhood came under sustained Israeli attack.
“Last night there was shelling everywhere, with shrapnel hitting our house’s wall. We were gathered in one room all together, my nephews and nieces were crying. The shelling continued for the whole day and night.
“During the day over 15 Palestinians were killed in Jabalia Camp-Al Faljoa region after the crazy Israeli artillery shelling that targeted civilian houses there.
“Before sunrise, a UN school in Jabaliya refugee camp where I live was struck by three Israeli shells. At least 23 civilians were murdered in the attack.
“The people in the school had left everything behind after they were forced to leave their homes under the threat of being killed by the Israeli war machine. Fleeing from death to death, they got murdered while they were sleeping. Whole families have been wiped out. There is nothing left here just sorrow and misery for the ones who survived.”
In our last issue, we also introduced readers to Hadeya Kuhail, a “resistant tweeting live from Gaza City” who can be followed @hadeyakuhail.
“What the hell are they throwing in the air?” she messaged on July 24 as the Israeli Defence Force added white phosphorous bombs to the arsenal of weapons they’re attacking Gaza with. “Our skins are burning and we can’t breathe.”
Later that day the 26-year-old added: “My heart stopped pulsing for a second. The biggest explosion I’ve heard since the beginning of the war.” And, in a disturbingly emotional human interest vignette: “My friend was supposed to get married in a month, even she bought a dress . Now no family left to attend, she’ll be a handicapped bride too.”
Interviewed by the Institute For Middle East Understanding, she revealed that, “The whole family is so scared of them targeting us, we’ve been called twice by the Israelis to evacuate. It’s very crowded here. We are five families, 48 people, staying in this one place. There is no privacy, no rest, no quiet time and above all everybody is so scared that something will happen. I worry about my little angels. On Saturday, the Israelis bombed the house next door at 2.30am. We woke up as if in a sea of heavy, dark smoke. Most of us couldn’t breathe or see anything. We were running like crazy and my daughter fell over her brother on the stairs. She had to get two stitches.
“I feel like a spoiled baby for being sorry and crying over her stitches when compared to kids who are even younger and lost legs or arms or are deaf now.”