💧 Gaza Father’s Anguish: Son Killed ‘Searching for a Sip’ Amid a Man-Made Water Crisis
Written by: Maxamed Cawil Jaamac
In the heart of Gaza, a father’s grief tells the story of an entire people’s struggle for life under siege. Mahmoud Abdul Rahman Ahmed lost his young son, Abdullah, not on the battlefield, but as he queued quietly for the most basic human need: water.
On 13 July 2025, Abdullah joined dozens of other children and exhausted residents of Nuseirat refugee camp, each carrying empty jerrycans and empty stomachs. They gathered around a water distribution point, hoping for a few litres of water to carry back to their families.
“Minutes after the children and thirsty people of the camp gathered,” Mahmoud told the BBC, “the warplanes bombed those children and the water distribution point, without prior notice.”
🚨 A strike in search of water
Video footage captured the horror: yellow jerrycans scattered, men covered in blood, lifeless children on the ground, and families screaming in agony. At Al-Awda hospital, staff confirmed that 10 people, including six children, were killed. Sixteen others were injured.
Among the children who died alongside Abdullah were Badr al-Din Qaraman, Siraj Khaled Ibrahim, Ibrahim Ashraf Abu Urayban, Karam Ashraf al-Ghussein, and Lana Ashraf al-Ghussein.
The Israeli military admitted it had targeted a Palestinian Islamic Jihad militant, but claimed that “a technical error with the munition” caused it to fall dozens of meters away from the intended target. It expressed regret for harming civilians and announced an internal review.
🏚 Children dreaming of normal lives
Mahmoud’s words cut through the politics:
“They were looking at reality with the hope of it changing, of becoming like other children of the world — practicing their normal role of playing, moving, traveling, eating, drinking, and living in safety.”
In Gaza, even this modest dream seems distant. The UN reports that water shortages are worsening daily, driven by a lack of fuel, spare parts, and access due to military operations. Many families now receive far less than the emergency standard of 15 litres per day — an amount barely enough for drinking, cooking, and basic hygiene.
“This is what we see every morning,” said Sam Rose of Unrwa, the UN agency for Palestinian refugees.
“Children queuing by the roadside with yellow jerrycans, hoping to get five or ten litres of water.”
📉 A war claiming a classroom of children every day
Rose described the incident as “particularly emblematic” of Gaza’s tragedy, but not unique.
“Every single day, since the start of the war, an average of a classroom full of children have been killed.”
Just days earlier, another airstrike killed 10 children and three women as they waited outside a clinic in nearby Deir al-Balah for nutritional supplements. Once again, the Israeli military said it was targeting militants and regretted civilian casualties.
The executive director of UNICEF, Catherine Russell, called the two incidents “horrific,” urging Israel to urgently review its rules of engagement to protect civilians in line with international humanitarian law.
⚖️ Who bears responsibility?
Later this week, the UN Security Council will meet to discuss the plight of children in Gaza. Yet diplomatic blame remains deeply divided.
Israel’s permanent representative, Danny Danon, blamed Hamas, saying:
“The children in Gaza are victims of Hamas, not Israel. Hamas is using them as human shields.”
But Mahmoud, standing over the ruins where his son fell, had a different message:
“We are victims. We are civilians just like other people in the world… This war needs to stop, and so does the ongoing massacre happening in the Gaza Strip.”
🕊 Beyond numbers, a father’s voice
In conflict reports, numbers often eclipse names; casualty figures replace human faces. But Mahmoud’s words remind us that every child killed in Gaza — like Abdullah — carried a small hope: to play, to live, to drink clean water.
In the end, their lives were lost not because they were part of any conflict, but because they were simply thirsty.
Written by: Maxamed Cawil Jaamac
(Writer on humanity, conflict, and forgotten voices)
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