Before the war, I lived on the third floor of the Abu al-‘Oaf building on al-Wehdah Street, along with my wife, Abir Ishkuntana, and our five children: Dana, Lina, Yihya, Zein and Suzi. We rented this apartment three years ago. The building had four stories and there were shops on the ground floor. I used to work as a waiter at restaurants and cafeterias. Since the pandemic broke out in March 2020, I’ve been unemployed and have only worked odd jobs.

After the war started, we were terrified and constantly followed the news and the events.

I stayed home with my wife and kids so they wouldn’t be scared by the sound of the bombings, even though we lived in a prestigious area that had no military targets. Our area is peaceful, and we only occasionally heard the sirens of ambulances evacuating the wounded to a-Shifaa Hospital, which is close to us.

On Saturday evening, 15 May 2021, our children went to their rooms to sleep. My wife ‘Abir and I were still awake. After midnight, at around 12:30, my wife also went to bed after a long day of fear from the airstrikes and drones.

I stayed in the living room and watched the news. Suddenly, about half an hour after my wife had gone to bed, I felt our building shake. I saw a strong red flash and then there was another intense tremor. I ran to the children’s room. My wife was already there, getting them out of the room. Suddenly, the building collapsed. It all fell down, the walls, the pillars, the concrete. The ceiling fell on my wife and kids, and I dropped as if I’d fallen into a deep pit. There was concrete around me and I couldn’t breathe or see anything. The power went out during my fall. I couldn’t see my wife and kids and didn’t know what had happened to them.

A few minutes later, I heard Dana and Zein shouting, “Daddy, Daddy.” I called out to them. I don’t know if they heard me. After a few moments, I couldn’t hear their voices anymore. I was stuck under the rubble, screaming and crying and calling for people to come and help us.