Opinion: I used to cry for other people's children. Now I cry for my own

Opinion by Mohammed Alaloul - I am a photojournalist. I was born in February 1987, got married in 2009, and had my firstborn son, Ahmad, the following year. Several more children followed: Rahaf in 2012, Kanan in 2017 and Qais in 2019. Thank God I had Adam in November 2022; he is the only one who has survived.

I went to university and followed my dream to become a journalist. I wore the vest and reported from the field, covering wars and the Great March of Return. But I could never have imagined what was to come in the current war.

I could never have imagined, even in my worst nightmares, that my own house would be bombed; that I could lose my young brothers, my sister, my children, my nephews - all of them, just like that. 

I cannot describe the pain in my heart; there are no words. I feel broken. My heart is broken, my back is broken. Thank God for what remains

- Mohammed Alaloul, Palestinian journalist 

We used to share dreams and memories. In an instant, the whole house died.   

My home and family were targeted without any warning or an ounce of mercy. Our home was bombed heavily.

When this happened, I was at work. My job often keeps me away from home for days at a time, and when I am home, I am generally exhausted - but at least there was always the comfort of knowing my kids and nephews were around.

They always used to beg me to take care while I was on duty, and not to take any risks. But they were sleeping peacefully in the safety of their home when they were bombarded and killed. 

For years, I went to work, risking my life to take photos and report the news, so that I could feed my kids. Today, I am left with nothing - my home and family have been destroyed. I cannot describe the pain in my heart; there are no words. I feel broken. My heart is broken, my back is broken. Thank God for what remains.

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