In 1999, I rented a 14-dunam [1 dunam = 1,000 sq. meters] plot of land in the al-Musha’ala area in southeastern Deir al Balah. I built three chicken coops on the land. One of them has 3,000 chicks, the other has 3,500, and in the third I keep chickens for sale. On the rest of the plot, I planted palm trees, olive trees and grapevines.

On Tuesday evening, 11 May 2021, I was with my sons Munzer and Manar on our land. We went there despite the war because the chicks needed care. The atmosphere was tense that night. There were airstrikes all the time and drones hovering over us. We sat down under an olive tree, a few meters away from the coops. Munzer said he and Manar would go turn on the gas heaters in the coops to keep the chicks warm, and then come home.

Manar was terrified of the airstrikes and held his brother’s hand. They headed to the coop and I stayed under the tree. Everything was dark because there was no power in the area at the time. When they were both 20 meters away from me, the bombings suddenly intensified and they shouted to me that they were leaving. I called out to them, “Leave everything and go home.” Meanwhile, some bales of straw caught fire and I got up quickly to put it out. As I was putting it out, I heard a loud explosion.

About 45 minutes later, I was done putting out the fire and called out to my sons, but they didn’t answer. I went in the direction they’d gone and then found them lying side by side about 30 meters away. I sat down next to them and put Munzer’s head on my leg. I called, “Munzer, Munzer,” but he didn’t respond. So I left him and started talking to Manar. I called his name, but he didn’t respond either.