S.S.

In the very first days of the war we stayed at home, even though bombs were falling near us. After two days, I went to the Indonesian Hospital in Beit Lahiya in the northern Gaza Strip, on a journalistic assignment as a field reporter for several channels. Meanwhile, my family evacuated from the area. Some went to southern Gaza and others to central Gaza.

From the Indonesian Hospital, I documented the occupation army’s killings and attacks on civilian infrastructure in the area: clinics, schools and mosques. I saw the suffering of people living in the shadow of the war, and sometimes I had to take photos of the dead and wounded who were brought to the hospital. There were charred and dismembered bodies, horrific sights that are hard to describe. Sometimes, I simply couldn’t bring myself to take photos of them.

They transferred us to a nearby military post. We stayed there the whole night, naked, with our hands and feet tied. Soldiers peed on us, beat us and swore at us nonstop. 

On 20 November 2023, when the occupying forces invaded the Indonesian Hospital, I moved to Kamal Adwan Hospital and continued my journalistic work there. But on 12 December 2023, the army also invaded Kamal Adwan Hospital. Following the invasion, there were many deaths among the wounded and sick people who were being treated at the hospital. There were also babies in the neonatal units whose fate is unknown.

As time went by, the situation in northern Gaza became unbearable. It was almost impossible to film because the army invaded everywhere; there were constant bombings and destruction on every corner. I decided to move to a-Shifaa Hospital and keep working from there. While I was at a-Shifaa Hospital, I documented the wounded people and internally displaced persons (IDPs) who arrived at the hospital. I filmed mosques that were destroyed, the massacres in a-Nabulsi Square and in al-Kuwait Square, long lines for water, and the bombing of schools that had been turned into IDP shelters and camps.

In January 2024, the Israeli army laid siege to a-Shifaa Hospital, shelled it heavily and fired nonstop at it from drones. I barely managed to get out alive. It was winter, it was raining and very cold. I ran outside in the dark and in the mud, and I felt I was stepping on dead bodies.

When the army withdrew from the hospital, after causing massive destruction and arresting many people, I went back to working there as usual. But in March 2024, the army invaded the hospital again. Heavy bombing began at the hospital gates, along with drone fire. In a short time, they surrounded the hospital from all directions. The place was full of IDPs and dead and wounded people. Anyone who went near a window was shot. It was so terrifying that people in the hospital looked at their children, their family members or their neighbors as if they were seeing them for the last time and saying goodbye to them, as if these were their final moments.

The siege was absolute. It was impossible to bring water or food into the hospital, and this was during Ramadan. We went entire days without any food. It was hard for me to see children and women starving and crying in fear, terrified by the bombings and the army invasion.

In mid-March 2024, the army raided the hospital wards, and the soldiers ordered all of us to surrender, including patients, doctors and IDPs. The soldiers told us: “Surrender, or we’ll kill you.” The fear we felt is indescribable. People said goodbye to one another with their eyes.

We were lined up in queues. Women stood on one side and young men on the other. When I went up to the camera, the soldier said to me: “Take off your clothes and hand over everything you have.” I handed over my camera, the 10,000 dollars I had on me, my phone, my wristwatch and my laptop.

A doctor examined us, and then they moved us to another cage with about 100 detainees. That was when I first received clothes, and the guards told me: “Welcome to hell.”

An intelligence officer came up to me and said: “Hello, S. The game is over.” When I told him I was a journalist, he said: “I’m a Shin Bet officer.” They took me into a room, tied my hands and left me naked. There were also sick and elderly people in the room. The soldiers beat and tortured us.

They took us to a pit they had dug on the hospital grounds. When we went down into it, I thought they were going to execute us, but from there, they transferred us to a nearby military post. We stayed there the whole night, naked, with our hands and feet tied. Soldiers peed on us, beat us and swore at us nonstop.

From there, they took us to the Sde Teiman detention facility. They beat us all the way, and when we got there, they put us in a big cage. A doctor examined us, and then they moved us to another cage with about 100 detainees. That was when I first received clothes, and the guards told me: “Welcome to hell.” The person in charge there was a man whose nickname was “Captain Abu ‘Ali.”

I was held at Sde Teiman for about three months. Most of that time, I was bound hand and foot and blindfolded. They would wake us at dawn, take away our mattresses and force us to kneel in a prostration position, on our knees with our forehead touching the ground, for the entire day. They only allowed us to go to the toilet for two minutes, still bound, and with the door open. We were allowed to shower only once every two weeks, also just for two minutes, and we didn’t receive any change of clothes. We got very little food. For example, for breakfast, we got a small tub of yogurt and two slices of moldy bread. Sometimes they gave us bread that was so dry that elderly detainees bled from the mouth when they tried to eat it.

There were acts of oppression almost every day. We would wake up in the middle of the night surrounded by exploding grenades, dogs barking and soldiers shouting, and then they would beat us for several hours straight. We all came out injured from those attacks. I got cracked ribs and a head injury that required stitches.

For the interrogations, I’d be taken to a room they called the “disco” room. For six days, I was given only a bottle cap of water a day to drink, and to eat only one cucumber and a piece of rotten bread that the soldier stepped on before giving it to me. I was beaten nonstop and occasionally given electric shocks. I sat on a metal chair from morning until night. Outside the room, there was a huge loudspeaker that played songs in Hebrew at an unbearable volume; my eardrum ruptured and my ear bled. There was no bathroom in the room, so I peed in my clothes.

They held me naked, and soldiers set dogs on me that attacked me. They beat me on the penis, tied it with a plastic cord and caused swelling and bleeding. 

At Sde Teiman, I went through the hardest days of my life. I’m still suffering from severe trauma. They held me naked, and soldiers set dogs on me that attacked me. They beat me on the penis, tied it with a plastic cord and caused swelling and bleeding. One detainee lost a testicle as a result of the torture.

After about three months at Sde Teiman, they transferred me to Ofer Prison, where I was also beaten all the time, given electric shocks and attacked by dogs. I was held for a whole month bound and blindfolded, and drank contaminated water.

After a month in Ofer Prison, they transferred me to Negev Prison (Ketziot). When we arrived, they held a “welcome ceremony” for us: soldiers boiled water, sprinkled sugar on our bodies and poured the boiling water over us. About 20 prisoners suffered severe burns, but it was 10 days before we got an ointment that helped with the burns.

We were barefoot, and in the summer the heat burned our feet. The running water in the tap was cut off and turned on for only an hour a day. They’d take 200 detainees to the shower at once, and even in winter, we showered in cold water and froze. We were given meager food, which was rotten and wet. We saw soldiers and dogs peeing on it before they served it to us. We slept on the floor; there were no mattresses or blankets. My life there was hell. I spent about a year and a half barefoot, without proper clothes and without a mattress or blanket.

About 200 people, myself included, got scabies and scratched ourselves until we bled. When we asked for treatment, they told us: “You haven’t seen anything yet.” The only treatment we received from them was one acetaminophen pill. We asked again and again to go to the infirmary. In the end, they let us go, but on the way to the infirmary, they beat us and put cigarettes out on our bodies, and the doctor also beat us. There were also cases in which prisoners’ teeth were broken.

At Negev Prison, I was sexually harassed by a female soldier. One of the times I was on the way to court, she put her hand on my neck.

When my children saw me, they didn’t recognize me. They were afraid of me. I also had difficulty recognizing my brothers. People’s appearances changed so much during the war. 

They put us in “group isolation” cells: small metal cells without toilets and without running water. A detainee named Muhammad al-Astal, who was with me in the cell, died in group isolation after they didn’t let him use the toilet for a long time and his intestines became blocked. We were all in the same state. I didn’t use the toilet for more than 10 days. It was only after al-Astal died that they brought us a bucket to use as a toilet. I was held there for about six months. We were exposed to heat and cold. In the summer, the heat was unbearable, and in the winter, the cold was extreme. There were also mosquitoes, snakes and scorpions there.

We were told several times that we were going to be released, but each time we found ourselves in a different place or another prison. From Negev Prison, they later transferred us again to another prison, which was relatively clean, and Red Cross representatives came and saw us there and told us we would be released within two days.

On 23 October 2025, they tied our hands and took our fingerprints and retinal scans, beating us as they did it. Outside the prison, there were buses waiting. We were tied up and beaten and cursed by the soldiers all the way until we were on the buses, in front of the Red Cross representatives. The Red Cross staff only said: “We are very sorry. We can’t do anything for you.”

We drove, and after a long journey, we reached Kerem Shalom Crossing. We entered the Gaza Strip, and from there, they took us to Nasser Hospital in Khan Yunis. A lot of prisoners were released that day. When we arrived at Nasser Hospital, we underwent medical tests and received ointment for the scabies.

My family was waiting for me there, and I was so happy that I was released and would finally see my children and my wife. The sight of the released prisoners wrapped in their families’ embraces was almost inconceivable, like a fairy tale.

But when my children saw me, they didn’t recognize me. They were afraid of me. I also had difficulty recognizing my brothers. People’s appearance changed so much during the war.

When we left Nasser Hospital, my family and I went to a-Nuseirat Refugee Camp in central Gaza, and afterwards I rented a small house for us. I found out only after I was released that I had lost 85 members of my extended family in various massacres.

Today, I’m in a very bad emotional state because of what I went through during almost two years in the occupation’s prisons. I’m trying my best to rehabilitate myself, physically and mentally, and to forget the things I experienced in prison.

* Testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd on 2 November 2025