Bodies pile up in Gaza as grieving relatives struggle to bury the dead

Ibrahim al-Lahham was overcome with grief after losing 17 members of his family when an Israeli strike destroyed their homes in Gaza. His anguish was compounded by the inability to give them the dignity of a proper funeral – their bodies were dumped “on top of each other” in the back of a pick-up truck and taken away for a hasty burial.

Prayers for the dead, which included his brother, cousin and their wives and children, were recited not at the mosque but at the entrance to the Nasser Hospital morgue. Normally, Lahham said, hundreds of mourners would have turned out, with the names of the deceased inscribed on a tombstone and their grave decorated with flowers. But the Lahhams were denied these rituals.

“We’re still in shock,” he said. “We were deprived of the chance to give them a proper farewell.”

The intensity of Israel’s attacks on the densely packed enclave has meant that many Palestinian families have suffered the loss of multiple members from different generations.

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For them, there is little time to grieve or to carry out funeral services and other traditional rites. Gaza’s religious affairs ministry has urged the quick interment of those killed in the Israeli bombardments and authorised burials in mass graves because of the “large numbers of people killed and the small number of available space”. Some families have begun to wear identification bracelets, or are writing names on the arms of their children, to increase the chance they can be identified if they die.

More than 6,500 people have been killed by Israeli strikes on sealed-off Gaza, according to health officials in the Hamas-controlled Palestinian territory, where the UN has said a catastrophic humanitarian disaster is unfolding.

Israel began its bombardment in response to the October 7th incursion by Hamas militants from Gaza, the worst attack on the Jewish state since it came into existence. Israeli authorities say at least 1,400 civilians and soldiers were killed in the multipronged assault, and more than 200 hostages taken back to Gaza.

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Save the Children, the international charity, said this week that 2,000 children have been killed in the bombardment, with more than 800 others missing and feared trapped under the rubble of collapsed buildings.

The Lahham family lived in eight adjacent houses in the Muwasi area of Gaza, near the town of Khan Younis. When a neighbouring house was bombed, Ibrahim Lahham and one of his brothers made the decision to evacuate their homes, but others in the family refused.

“They said ‘we’re civilians, they won’t hit us’,” Lahham recalled. “An hour after we left, all the houses were levelled and everyone was killed except for three people,” he said. “There’s still one boy, 11 years old, missing under the rubble.”

Scenes of grieving families looking for loved ones at overflowing medical facilities have become commonplace. At Nasser Hospital, which is close to breaking point, bodies of those killed in Israeli air raids and artillery strikes have been piling up at the morgue.

On a recent day, tens of bereaved people gathered on the other side of a closed metal door to the mortuary. “Let me in, I want to say goodbye,” shouted a grieving young woman who was not permitted to enter. Another man, sobbing, said: “Come on, bring them out quickly, let’s bury them.”

Nearby, more bodies wrapped in white shrouds were placed on the ground in the hospital’s car park. After about 20 were put in the back of a vehicle, a group of men stood behind reciting funeral prayers.

Om Ahmed Zanati was also at the hospital to bid farewell to her son Hisham, his two children, and another relation, also a child, who were killed in Khan Younis.

“Darling Hisham,” she said, as a relative held her steady. “Do you hear me? Come back to me in my dreams, because I will miss you.” Then the bodies were packed into the boot of a car and driven away.

Dima Lamadani (18) was still coming to terms with the loss of more than two dozen members of her family who were killed in an Israeli bombardment a week ago. Her brother and two young cousins aged under 10 were the only survivors.

Her father had moved the family to Khan Younis from Gaza City to take refuge with an aunt after Israel ordered them to leave the north of the enclave, telling the Palestinians living there to flee to the south “for their safety”.

Lamadani, her brother and aunt were drinking coffee on the morning of October 17th when the house was hit. The next time she opened her eyes she was lying on the roof of a nearby building, “hearing my brothers, and my aunt’s children screaming”. She then lost consciousness again, waking up in the hospital where doctors were stitching the cuts to her head.

“After they’d finished, I ran around the hospital like a mad woman looking for my family,” said Lamadani. “It was the most horrific shock of my life to find their bodies in the morgue, where there were also many body parts.”

She continued: “I wanted my family to be given a big funeral, but God has decided otherwise. I accept God’s will, but I do not forgive.” – Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2023