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Pulitzer Center Grant Project: Portraits of Survival(12 images)
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  • Ismail Ibrahim Abu Eida and I sat together near the rubble of what had once been his family home, sipping our freshly brewed cups of tea He seemed to take pleasure in poking at the wood fire under the tea pot, and refilling the cups of those sitting about him. He sat in the dirt, while I balanced myself on a 3-and-a-half legged plastic chair that had been bought over for me. The mist that covered the citrus groves was now lifting as the day grew hotter, revealing the devastation that had once been the Jabaliya industrial zone. He pointed towards the West and said "There is Israel." I could see a wire fence, and the silhouettes of soldiers walking along it. Israeli farmers had begun working their fields that morning as jeeps filled with soldiers raced back and forth along the border areas and snipers kept an eye on the few Palestinians who dared to return to their lands. Despite the cease fire, farmers were being shot and killed at random. "I used to work in Israel," he mumbled after a few minutes "but that was a different time, a different world." By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • She was a shadow in a doorway looking at me as I walked away from the devastation of the Samoni family compound where 27 members of the clan had been killed by Israeli forces. A few minutes later a man cautiously walked up to me and asked if I would like to speak to Ranya Samoni, the wife of Eyad Samoni, one of the Samoni clan who had died? I hesitated long enough for him to say She wants to speak to you. The massacre of the Samoni clan at the hands of Israeli soldiers has be reported by every major print, TV and internet news organization covering the aftermath of Israeli's Operation Cast Lead. But that afternoon I and writer Elliott Woods were the audience to one woman talking about her one husband and explaining to us the meaning and consequences of her one, personal loss. Behind the story about the clan there were still the individuals left to carry individual pain and loss. By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • I found it impossible to take my eyes off Najwaen Rabi Ahmed Sultan's face. Not only because of her beauty, but also because of the strength that seemed to emanate from within her. She and her family had fled from their home as the Israeli tanks devastated Beit Lahiya and spent weeks moving between shelters set up in various local school buildings. The indignities faced by her sisters and her mother left a deep impression on her. I come from a cultured, educated family she fumed - a family of traditions and history. But for weeks we suffered like animals, dependent on others and at the mercy of the whims and taunts of rude and callous aid agency staff. She held herself upright, looked me straight in the eyes It was too much to bear - to be able to do nothing, to watch my mother plead and beg for our food, blankets or a place to wash.. No child should ever have to see that. By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • "Its one of the better paying jobs available in Gaza," he says to me incredulous that I do not see this obvious fact. "I am not an extremist nor am I digging towards a revolution - I am simply digging to eat and to feed my family." The tunnels along the border with Egypt are being bombarded by Israeli jets as we speak sitting in his home meters away from the strike area. Tunnel owners and workers are waiting until the jets leave to begin the work again. They have no other option. The work must go on. By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • "Tell me one thing you liked to do with your brother?" I asked. She let her eyes wander, bit her lip and made as if to think. "I liked walking with him to school." Noor Samoni, sister of 8-year-old Zakaria Hamid Samoni, who was killed by a rocket fired from an Israeli helicopter operating in their neighborhood, laughed when she said this and hid behind her mother. "Who will you walk with now?" "I don't need to. Mama says that they killed the school as well." By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • She kept speaking about her son in the present tense. He is a happy child. He was so excited about school when he first starting going, and now simply loves to prepare his uniform each day. Her 8-year old son, Zakaria Hamid Samoni, was dead. He had been killed when a rocket fired from an Israeli military helicopter fell near where Zakaria was playing. But Rida Samoni seemed oddly at ease, smiling even, as she spoke about him. Her other children milled about the room, hiding behind her, staring at me and laughing. Perhaps it was not quite time to let Zakaria go. By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • I asked Issa Abdul Hadi el Batrans' brothers if I could meet with him. They shook their heads and looked away apologetically. "His world has become unbearable to him," his youngest brother said to me, "he is unable to face anyone or anything." His only remaining child, Abdil Hadi, sat in her uncle's lap and stared at me. 16 days earlier, on January 16th 2009, Issa Abdul Hadi el Batran's wife Manal, his 13 year old daughter Islam, his 10 year old daughter Iman, his 8 year old daughter Ihsan, his 6 year old son Bilal and his 5 year old son Ezzedine were killed in a missile attack on their home. My interview had ended before it could begin. Abdil Hadi continued to stare at me. I asked to hold her and saw questions in her eyes. By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • "Sons are the light of their mother's eyes," she said," and my eyes have lost their light." She kept dialing a number in Egypt. Consoling relatives and neighbors who filled the front compound of her home kept handing her their mobiles in the hope that one of them would connect to the Egyptian hospital where Nabila Jadali's sons had been sent for treatment. She had already buried Mohamad Jadali. Her son had not survived the rain of shells that landed in her home. She had no time to mourn however. Two other sons were in an emergency room in Egypt, evacuated across the Rafah border, and she was unable to locate them. Abdil Hadi had been blinded in the same attack and Khalil had lost his legs. She had lost one son but had no time to think about that. She had two more she could possibly loose. By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • The last time I saw Ahdaf Soueif, the Egyptian writer, she was thrusting a bundle of Euro notes into my hand and pleading that I find a man named Hashim El Qudrah in the Jabaliya refugee camp and give him the money. "He needs it." she said to me, "His family is desperate- please get it to him." He greeted me with caution. Crippled by age and unable to leave his home, he and his two wives had lived through 22 days of hell as Israeli jets, helicopters, tanks and soldiers rained havoc around their small home. "Trapped like animals, and living like animals." he explained. "I have nothing in the house - I cannot serve you anything." I had added to his humiliations; after a month of many deaths, now the inability to offer hospitality to a guest. By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • Jihad Abu Jawara refused to be photographed. His uncles tried to cajole him, explaining that I was there to tell his story and that of his father who had been killed days earlier in a rocket attack on the family home on January 9th 2009. He remained agitated, tense and uncertain. He has been like this since....his uncle explained. I showed him a photograph of my daughter Sofia. Meeting Jihad had reminded me how much I missed her, a feeling made more intense because of the scars of Gaza. I told him that all I wanted to do was take a simple picture like the one I have of my daughter so that I could remember him wherever I went. He looked at her photograph, and smiled back at her smiling face. By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • Majid Fateh Abdil Aziz El Najar unlocked the door of his home to allow me to see the damage caused by Israeli tank fire and phosphorous shell attacks. As we entered the foyer I noticed a small, decaying bouquet of flowers leaning against a wall. That is where she died. Majid's wife of 16 years, Hanan Fateh Abdil Ghani Qodeh, was killed when a tank shell tore through her body. Rubble covered the entire house, with large gaping holes in the exterior walls where the shells had entered and devastated the life of his family. We walked around the house for some minutes, Majid Fateh examining every room and item to see what could be salvaged. As I turned to leave I heard him whisper She waited 8 years for me. I thought I had misheard him. When I was in an Israeli prison, he explained, she waited 8 years for me so that we could marry. She stood against her family, and waited for me. We had been in love you see. He smiled. By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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  • "So you can just walk across into Egypt?" I had come to Mahmud Ankah's home to learn about the death of one of his relatives, killed during an Israeli military strike in the Beit Lahiya camp. Throughout my interview with his family members he had sat at the back of the room and listened. A good-looking 18-year-old, dressed in designer jeans and sporting a baseball cap, he had entered the room without fuss and quietly placed himself in a corner. Later when he approached me I thought that he may want to speak about his experiences of the conflict. Instead he plied me with questions about traveling to different countries and in particular, about the process of walking across an international border. For the next hour I told him tales of my experiences with customs officials, immigration bureaucracies, conflict borders manned by armed gunmen and the many mishaps and travesties I have faced while traveling the world. His excitement could not have been less had I told him about alien life on other planets! By photographer Asim Rafiqui
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