Everything is mixed together: a child's brightly colored backpack, a running shoe, a steel pot pierced by shrapnel, along with fragments of beds, chairs, cooking utensils, lampshades, and the remains of shattered windows, mirrors, and glasses. Scattered pieces of clothing are also present.
These torn and dust-covered items are often crucial markers. They frequently belong to those who are buried in the shallow layers of the rubble. "Since the Israeli occupation forces withdrew from Rafah, we have received approximately 150 calls from civilians stating that the remains of their loved ones are buried under the houses," said Haisam al-Homs, the head of emergency and ambulance services for the Rafah Civil Defense.
The Palestinian health authorities estimate that 10,000 people are missing. In the absence of obvious markers like clothing, search teams rely on information from relatives and neighbors or search based on the smell of death emanating from the rubble. Since the Israeli government prohibits the BBC and other international news organizations from entering Gaza for independent reporting, we rely on trusted local journalists to document the experiences of those searching for the missing.
At the end of each day, Mr. Homs updates the list of people who have been found. His team carefully excavates the rubble, aware that they are searching for fragments of broken humanity. Often, all that is found is a pile of bones. Israeli high-explosive bombs have blown many of the dead to pieces. The bones and scraps of clothing are placed in white body bags, on which Mr. Homs writes the Arabic word "majhoul," meaning "unidentified."
Osama Saleh, a resident of Rafah, returned to his home after the ceasefire and found a skeleton. The skull was fractured. Saleh believes the remains had been there for four to five months. "We are people with feelings... I cannot express to you how painful this tragedy is," he said. "Being surrounded by the smell of decaying bodies every day is a disturbing experience, which is often confirmed by those who have witnessed the consequences of mass death."
"The bodies are terrifying. We are witnessing horror," said Osama Saleh. "I swear it is a painful feeling, and I cried." Families also flocked to hospitals in search of remains. In the yard of the European Hospital in southern Gaza, bones and clothing were laid out on body bags.
Abdul Salam Mugeyer, a 19-year-old from Rafah, went missing in the Shabura area; according to his uncle Zaki, if you went there during the war, you would not come back. "So, for that reason, we did not go there to look for him. We might not have returned." Zaki believes a pile of bones and clothes in front of him belong to the missing Abdul Salam. He stood with hospital worker Jihad Abu Heris, waiting for Abdul Salam's brother to arrive.
"It is 99% certain that these remains are his," said Mr. Abu Heris, "but now we need final confirmation from his closest brother to make sure that the pants and shoes are his." Shortly after, his brother arrived from a tent refugee camp in Al-Mawasi in southern Gaza. He had a picture of Abdul Salam on his phone. There was also a picture of his running shoes. He knelt in front of the body bag and pulled back the cover. He touched the skull, the clothes. He saw the shoes. His eyes filled with tears. The identification was complete.
Another family lined up along a row of body bags. There was a grandmother, her son, an adult sister, and a toddler. The child was kept at the back of the line, while the older woman and her son looked under the body bags. They stared for a few seconds before embracing each other in grief. Afterwards, the family, with the help of hospital staff, took the remains away. They were all crying, but no one was wailing aloud.
Aya Dabbeh, 13, lives with her family and hundreds of other refugees in a school in Tal Hawa in northern Gaza City. She is one of nine children. One day at the start of the war, Aya went to the bathroom upstairs in the school, and her family says she was hit in the chest by an Israeli sniper. The Israel Defense Forces stated that they do not target civilians and accuse Hamas of launching attacks from civilian areas. During the war, the UN Human Rights Office stated that "Israeli forces carried out intense firing in densely populated areas, resulting in apparent unlawful killings, including of unarmed bystanders."
The family buried Aya next to the school, and her mother, Lina Dabbeh (43), wrapped her in a blanket "to protect her from the weather," in case the grave was disturbed and exposed to the elements. When Israeli forces took over the school, Lina fled south. She reunited with her husband, who had previously left with the couple's other children, bringing with her four other children – two daughters and two sons. Lina had no choice but to leave her daughter there, hoping to return and find the remains and bury them properly once peace arrived.
"Aya was a very kind girl, everyone liked her. She used to love everyone, her teachers, and her studies, and she did very well in school. She wanted everyone to be good," Lina said. After the ceasefire, Lina asked relatives who were still living in the north to check on Aya's grave. The news was devastating. "They told us that her head was in one place, her legs in another, and her ribs were somewhere else. Those who went to see her were shocked and sent us photos," she said.
"When I saw her, I couldn't understand how my daughter was dug out of her grave and how dogs had eaten her? I couldn't control my emotions." Relatives collected the bones, and soon Lina and her family will travel to the north to take Aya's remains to a proper grave. For Lina, the grief is never-ending, and there is a question that has no answer—a question that also plagues many parents who have lost children in Gaza. What else could they have done differently in the face of war? "I couldn't take her away from where she was buried," Lina said. Then she asked, "Where could I have taken her?"