29-year-old Palestinian Bayan Mughari mourns her father, her mother, and 150 others from her family whom she left just hours before they were martyred. She weeps for the moments of joy and agony she shared with them recalling her cousin’s nightmare that became a reality.
On Tuesday, the tenth day of Israel’s vehement war on Gaza, at 1:00 PM, Bayan’s family departed this life when a barrage of Israeli explosive rockets hit a residential area belonging to Al-Mughari family in Al-Bureij camp, in the middle of the Gaza Steip, killing 150 members of the family and wounding dozens others. On the sad memory, Bayan said:
“It was by coincidence that I had visited my family just a day before their martyrdom. We had planned to spend the night together to distract and relieve ourselves from the intense and violent war atmosphere that had gripped us at its onset. My sisters, aunt, cousins, and my cousins’ wives were all joyful upon hearing about my stay-over.
They said to me, “Great! We’ll stay up till dawn. By God, we’ll have fun, Bayan, and replace this fear with joy.”
Everyone rejoiced at the news of Bayan’s stay-over except for one person—her father.
“I remember vividly when he came to me around 9:00 PM while I was preparing my little one to sleep. He said with utmost concern, “I’m not comfortable with you staying here tonight. Let’s part ways for now. Come, I’ll take you.”
The words struck fear in Bayan’s heart, yet she did not protest. She hesitated, got dressed, and her father escorted her and her child with his hands to Bayan husband’s house in the middle of the night, when movement was almost impossible.
“But he was determined. At the time, I didn’t understand his reasons, but perhaps the departed souls sense their fate approaching, Allah knows best.”
When they arrived the house, her father handed her the child and some money, saying, “Keep these with you and spend as needed.”
That was the last time Bayan saw her father.
“The next afternoon when I heard the brutal shelling, not knowing where exactly, I collapsed in complete devastation next to my husband’s sister, crying out, “These are my family, by God, these are my family.”
Bayan tried calling them all, but received no answer. Her sister Hanan was coincidentally outside. When Bayan heard her voice, she felt a moment of relief once she said to her, “I’m going out, Bayan, I’m not at home.”
Then Bayan’s sister fell silent for a moment before screaming over the phone, “Our house, Bayan, our house!” and hung up.
“I collapsed on my knees, screaming and crying in horror at what I saw and heard,” Bayan painfully said.
She ran out into the street like a madwoman, asking for her mother, “I want my mother, please, where is my mother!”
Bayan expressed that she was horrified by the sight of her relatives and neighbors, martyrs and wounded, in the street. She saw her sister, Hanan and Raham, being carried by men to Bayan’s home.
It was then that I realized—my mother was gone, my father was gone, and more than 150 martyrs fell victims in this brutal, despicable shelling.
But for Bayan, the strangest thing was not just her father’s actions that day, but also the reaction of her cousin’s wife Yasmin when she learned about Bayan’s sudden departure that night.
Yasmeen nervously and anxiously told the girls that day, “Bayan has left! The beginning of the nightmare has come true!”
Yasmeen mother-in-law, who was killed with Bayan’s family, replied, “What nightmare are you talking about? Don’t jinx it.” Yasmin didn’t ever elaborate about the dream, but Bayan and the rest of the peiple knew it once everything happened.
“My father was killed, Yasmin was killed, her mother-in-law was killed, and everyone in that house was killed in cold blood, leaving us only with grief,” Bayan concluded with tears.
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