I can't believe that I’m still breathing after this hellish night
Mohammed sends Fjell-Ljom pictures that document the suffering in Gaza continuously. We choose to publish several of them despite their strong impressions. This is because we believe it is important for the world to see what Israel's warfare is doing to the civilian population.Mohammed
Fjell-Ljom is in contact with a young medical student in Gaza. He wants to tell the world what is happening there, and who is truly affected by the ravages of war. The newspaper knows his full name and has verified his identity. This text is published as he originally wrote it in English. A Norwegian version translated by the editorial staff can be read here.
Fjell-Ljom chooses to give space to Mohammed and his experiences of the war in Gaza despite being the local newspaper for Røros and Holtålen. We do this because we believe it is our duty to help spread information about the situation in Gaza, and the conditions the residents live under.
Friday May 16th 2025
It was not an ordinary night – it was a nightmare that resembled the horrors of Judgment Day.
In Jebaliya, northern Gaza, we lived through one of the most terrifying nights since the beginning of the war. The bombing did not stop for a single minute. Israeli warplanes never left the sky, tanks roared through the streets, and naval gunships rained death from the sea.
We were surrounded by fire from every direction: airstrikes, artillery shelling, and naval bombardment. As if they had decided to erase this place entirely.
Mohammed
We heard explosions, one after another, shaking the earth beneath us and rattling the fragile walls around us. Every moment felt like it could be our last. The screams of people, the cries of children, and destruction in every corner. Unforgettable scenes. Massacres took place in the streets, in homes, in the schools where people had sought shelter from death, only to find it there.
The number of martyrs is beyond counting. The wounded were carried on shoulders, and people dug through the rubble, searching for their children, their mothers – for lives that once were and vanished in an instant.
I still can't believe I survived, that I’m still breathing after this hellish night.
At one point, I grabbed my brother’s hand tightly and told him:
If we die, let’s die together, so we don’t mourn each other, so we don’t suffer the pain of separation.
We were trying to reassure ourselves, to plant a little strength in our broken hearts. But in truth, fear lived in every cell of our bodies, and our tears fell in silence.
Jebaliya is bleeding. And with it, we bleed patience, pain, and blood. The world remains silent, but the voices of the martyrs will keep knocking on its conscience forever.
Mohammed
Last night was yet another testimony that what’s happening here is not just a war – it is an attempt to uproot life from a land that refuses to die.
We are not asking for miracles, only to be seen as human beings who deserve to live.
