Ali Jadallah has lost four relatives in Gaza. He’s still taking pictures

Numb with grief, a photographer works to bear witness

Oct 27th 2023

By Ali Jadallah

Note: this article contains graphic images

I’m used to being the person behind the camera. Then on October 11th I was taking a photo of a house that had been bombed. It was near the street where my parents lived with my two brothers and sister. I heard an explosion and realised my family house had been hit. I ran towards it and saw it had been reduced to rubble.

The whole world died suddenly. There were no feelings, there were no colours, there was nothing. I tried to call my brothers but I knew they were under the rubble. Then I heard my mother’s voice – and I felt there was still hope in this world. I managed to pull her out. She was the only one who survived. We never found my sister’s body.

I left my wife and kids in the south of Gaza city and moved into al-Shifa hospital to stay with my injured mother. I became a body without a soul. I barely talk to my children – just a very short phone call every day. All I do is work. I’m part of a team of six photographers who live and work together at the hospital.

**Final goodbye** A mother cradles an injured child (*opening image*). *From top to bottom:* Ali Jadallah kisses the hand of his dead brother after his family home in Gaza city was reduced to rubble. His other brother, sister and father also died. Jadallah inspects the wreckage

We go out in the mornings to photograph the bombing from the night before. It’s dangerous to be out on the streets so I give my team a maximum of seven minutes to take their photos before we go back to the hospital. I am always worried about them.

The most important thing now is to report what is happening. My team and I don’t really eat, or sleep more than a couple of hours a night. We’re fuelling ourselves with dates, because they have a lot of sugar. I feel numb. I am a working machine.