Hadi ‘Abed Rabu
20 July 2025
A 40-year-old father of two from Jabalya town, Hadi described terrifying, grueling trips from northern Gaza to GHF aid distribution centers in the south, and the military’s massacre of residents waiting for WFP aid trucks in the a-Sudaniyah area in the north, near the Zikim crossing:
Until the war, I lived with my wife and our two daughters, Alma, 12, and Batul, 8, in an apartment in our family’s building in the eastern part of Jabalya town. But already at the beginning of the war we were forced to leave under heavy bombardment and military threats. Since then the military has destroyed our home along with the other houses in the area. We now live in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood.
On 11 July 2025, I went to the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF) distribution center in the a-Shakush area of Rafah city. I first got into a vehicle in Gaza City that took me to Jabal a-Nuweiri in the center of the Gaza Strip, west of a-Nuseirat Refugee Camp. From there I got another ride to the square near the site of the former “Fish Fresh” restaurant in western Khan Yunis.
You have to arrive early in that area to secure a place in line, close to the distribution center. That night I slept on the beach with a group of young men. I preferred not to take any of my family with me, so they wouldn’t be harmed.
At 4:00 A.M., we all began moving toward the closest point to the distribution center. We wanted to get there before the tens of thousands who were expected to arrive. We reached the place and waited for the center to open.
That night was very difficult. Suddenly, the Israeli military began shooting in every direction, as if to cover the whole area: gunfire from soldiers, firing from quadcopters and tanks, and heavy fire from a crane. People were killed right beside me, including a woman who had been near me since 6:00 A.M. Despite the massive shooting, more and more people kept arriving.
We hid behind a sand dune. In front of us was a pit surrounded by concrete debris, which was slightly safer. We managed to sneak into it and we all lay on the ground. The fire intensified, and shells landed all around us. Almost everyone who raised their head even 10 centimeters was killed on the spot. Anyone who tried to move was killed or wounded.
From time to time, I peeked out to see what was happening. Suddenly, I saw dozens of soldiers on a high dirt mound with tents set up on it. They were lying on the ground in sniper positions and firing in all directions. All of this shooting, including shells, continued for about three hours.
We knew the GHF distribution center was supposed to open at 9:00 A.M. The sound of the tanks was very loud and close. Then, at 8:45, the noise suddenly stopped. One young man said, “The tanks withdrew,” and immediately we all began running toward the a-Shakush gate. We were at the closest point to it, a kilometer and a half away. We ran along dirt roads and sand dunes until we reached a narrow corridor lined with barbed wire on both sides. The corridor grew narrower and narrower, down to a width of four to six meters. A heavy crush formed. Some people couldn’t squeeze in at all and tried climbing over the fence. Many fell and their clothes got stuck in the wire, but no one was free to help.
I reached the distribution yard. There were Americans in military uniforms there, and also Palestinian workers. I don’t know who they were or where they came from. They wore green and blue vests and called out on microphones to direct people. They spoke to us disrespectfully, calling us “you dogs” and other insults. The yard was surrounded by sand berms, and the Americans in uniform stood on top of them. The food packages were on the ground, and each person grabbed as much as they could carry. Thank God, I managed to get a package with flour, sugar, oil, lentils, rice, tahini, noodles, and some kind of sauce.
After taking the aid, I went back to the gate through which we came in. There’s only one gate, and it is also the exit. The Americans on the berms sprayed pepper spray and threw stun grenades at anyone who tried to escape the crush and approach the berms. I was hit by the pepper spray and my eyes burned badly. The Americans and the Palestinian workers there were also armed with electric batons.
The exit through the narrow passage was torture. I felt suffocated and only by miracle managed to get out and avoid the looters trying to rob people of their aid. I was very happy I managed to get food.
But then another ordeal began. We walked along dirt paths and climbed over dirt mounds blocking them, until we reached animal-drawn carts waiting about half a kilometer away from the center, to take people to the al-Iqlimi area, where vehicles are waiting. The cart owners refuse to accept money for the ride; they want only food. No matter how much money you offer, they want sugar, oil, or some other food product. I was exhausted and was forced to give them something so they would take me.
We reached the al-Iqlimi area, and there too, the drivers of the vehicles who take people back to the “Fish Fresh” square in Khan Yunis only accept food as payment. This trip cost me four kilograms of flour and two bottles of oil. At the “Fish Fresh” square, I barely managed to escape thugs trying to steal the aid. I rented a car there that took me to Jabal a-Nuweiri west of Nuseirat, and from there I rented another car to Gaza City.
I arrived home at 4:30 P.M., after an exhausting journey that lasted a day and a half. It was a very hard and long journey, but in the end, I succeeded. Most importantly, I got home in one piece. It was a very bad day, with death surrounding me on all sides – from the Israeli military, from the American soldiers, and from the crush inside that place where everything is terrible. But for those who manage to return home safely, with food packages, it has a happy ending.
Yesterday, Saturday, 19 July 2025, I heard that aid trucks were supposed to arrive in the a-Sudaniyah area (near the Zikim crossing) in northern Gaza. I decided to go there, even the military has banned entry into that area, in the hope of getting flour. I have no choice but to risk my life for a sack of flour because my family is hungry. No aid has entered for a week, and prices in the market are insane. A kilo of flour costs more than 150 shekels.
I left at 7:00 P.M. with several friends, and we slept in an open area near Zikim. We hoped the aid would arrive late at night or early the next morning, but the trucks only began to enter at around 10:00 A.M.
I had been to several aid distribution points before, but this time I saw far more people. There were huge crowds. I’d never seen so many. There were also many women, because it had been so long since any aid entered. When the trucks began to arrive, we moved into areas classified as “red zones,” where the military prohibits entry. We passed the Bianco Resort, which is defined a red zone, and continued about one kilometer north. I was horrified to see skeletons, rotting corpses and bodies mauled by dogs on both sides of the road. I think they were people killed while trying to get food during previous aid deliveries, and the military didn’t allow anyone in to take them away.
Even before the first convoy of seven trucks arrived, the military started shooting heavily at us from tanks and cranes. There were two cranes – one east of a-Rashid Street and one to the west, near the beach. Drones were also dropping bombs on people. In the area where I was, about 30 to 35 people were killed.* The sights were horrifying. I saw mostly injuries to the head and chest. The military was especially brutal today.
I couldn’t get a sack of flour from the first convoy because of the massive crowd that swarmed the trucks. Five or six people were run over by the trucks, which kept moving even when people crowded around them and climbed onto them to try to reach the flour.
After the trucks were emptied, the heavy gunfire continued, and drones began scanning the area. We hid behind dirt embankments while snipers shot at anyone who tried to move between them. We were trapped there for over half an hour under heavy fire from all directions. The whole time, I kept thinking, “God, just let me get home safely. I don’t want flour, I just want to get back to my family.” I think everyone trapped there with me, waiting for the second convoy, felt the same. It was a very tough half hour, maybe the hardest of my life. Next to me, a father and son and a woman of about 35 were killed. About 20 people were killed there, and many were injured.
When the second convoy entered, I managed to get a 25-kilo sack of flour. It was a real fight over life and death. Someone who was also carrying a sack of flour jumped on me, and I was wounded in the chest. I still feel short of breath. Words can’t describe how terrifying the situation was.
I hoisted the sack onto my shoulders and ran away under heavy fire. We were about 300 meters east of a-Rashid Street (which runs along the coast), and I walked quickly through side streets toward the al-‘Amudi area to get out of danger. Two young men were killed right before my eyes. I’m sad to say no one helped them, and the sacks they were carrying were stolen. By the time the third convoy arrived, I was already far from Zikim and didn’t see what happened there.
Getting out of the area, through the hills and sand dunes, took an hour and a half of walking until we reached the a-Twam roundabout in the northwest of Gaza City, about three kilometers from Zikim. That’s also where the ambulances wait, because the military forbids them to get close to Zikim. Anyone injured or killed is evacuated by donkey carts or in the empty trucks that brought the aid.
I think there are many more fatalities we don’t know about yet, because it was impossible to reach those hit near where the Israeli military was stationed. The Civil Defense and the Red Cross said there were about 200 dead and wounded the military prevented from being evacuated from the area. It was an unimaginably violent day, with a very high number of casualties.
When dignified people are humiliated and ground into the dirt, they have nothing left to lose.
* Testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd on 20 July 2025.
* According to reports, at least 79 people seeking food were killed in this incident.
In another testimony he gave B’Tselem on 5 August 2025, Hadi ‘Abed Rabu recounted an incident in which he was shot and injured by the Israeli military when he again went to the a-Sudaniyah area near Zikim to obtain food:
On 1 August 2025, I went again to the flour trucks in the a-Sudaniyah area in the north of the Strip, together with my nephew ‘Omar, 22. It was a terrible and frightening day. There were thousands of people there, and shells were fired at us from the sea, from the west. We hid in a pit with a few other young men. About 40 people were killed there and about 15 were injured. Right next to me, two young men from Jabalya, whom I knew well, were killed. Since I had taken a first aid course, I got up and checked the wounded. From time to time, I asked ‘Omar if he was okay.
After about ten minutes, my left leg felt hot and as if something was crawling on it. I saw blood on my pants and said to ‘Omar, “Maybe it’s the blood of the young man who was killed next to us. His blood stained our clothes.” I pulled up my pants and discovered I was injured above the knee. I don’t know exactly when I was wounded. I started screaming.
I tied something around my leg to stop the bleeding and bandaged it. I wanted to get away from there but couldn’t because of the heavy firing, which didn’t let up. It was the hour when the trucks were supposed to arrive, and before they enter, the military fires thousands of bullets at the whole area so people don’t get close.
After the trucks entered and the shooting subsided a little, ‘Omar and I left the place. My leg was still bleeding despite the bandage. We reached Hamad Hospital in Gaza City, which specializes in prosthetics and now has the doctors and staff of al-Awda Hospital there. X-rays showed it was shrapnel and was far from the bone. The doctors told me they couldn’t remove it. They disinfected and bandaged the wound, and then discharged me.
The next day, a friend of ours who is a doctor came to our house, removed the shrapnel and stitched the wound with seven stitches. Now I am taking antibiotics and applying ointment to the stitches, but there is still some infection in the wound.
* Read a previous testimony Hadi ‘Abd Rabu gave B’Tselem on 7 June 2025, about the mortal danger at aid distribution points.