Tributes have poured in from across the globe for 19-year-old Sha’ban al-Dalou, a software engineering student who burned to death after Israel bombed Gaza’s Al-Aqsa Hospital in central Deir al-Balah on Monday. Photographs and footage of his final moments shocked millions around the world as Sha’ban laid in a hospital bed with an IV attached to his arm as the flames engulfed him. His mother and youngest brother have also reportedly succumbed to their burns, and his two sisters are on the verge of dying from their injuries. “Another family is going to be wiped off the civil record,” says Abubaker Abed, a 21-year-old journalist reporting live from outside the Al-Aqsa Hospital who interviewed al-Dalou’s family and friends. Abed once dreamed of becoming a football commentator and is struggling to find food and supplies while Israel enacts a near-complete siege on Gaza. “We are young men that have nothing to do with this war. … But we are very daily being subjected to sheer violence and brutality,” says Abed. “I could be the next Sha’ban. Anyone could be the next Sha’ban, because Israel is allowed to do anything.”
TRANSCRIPT
This is a rush transcript. Copy may not be in its final form.
AMY GOODMAN: This is Democracy Now!, democracynow.org. I’m Amy Goodman.
Tributes have poured in from across the globe for 19-year-old Sha’ban al-Dalou, a software engineering student who burned to death after Israel bombed Gaza’s Al-Aqsa Hospital in central Deir al-Balah early Monday morning. The bombing set off a massive fire in an area packed with makeshift tents housing displaced Palestinians who had sought safety at the hospital, including Sha’ban’s family. He was an engineering student at Gaza’s Al-Azhar University who had just started his studies in September of last year. He built the tent shelter his family was living in when Israel bombed them. Photographs and footage of his final moments shocked millions around the world as Sha’ban laid in a hospital bed with an IV attached to his arm as the flames engulfed him.
This is a video of Sha’ban al-Dalou in his own words, posted as part of a fundraising campaign to evacuate him from Gaza with his family.
SHA’BAN AL-DALOU: From the tent where we reside, I’m Sha’ban Ahmed, 19 years old. I’m a student studying software engineer. In this barbaric starvation war, we have displaced five times so far. Now we are in Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in the middle of Gaza, Deir al-Balah. I’m taking care of my family, as I’m the oldest. I have two sisters and two little brothers and my parents. We live in a very hard circumstances, suffering from various things such as homelessness and limited food and extremely limited medicine. And the only thing between us and the freezing temperature is this tent that we constructed by ourselves.
AMY GOODMAN: Sha’ban was at Al-Aqsa Hospital receiving care after he survived the earlier Israeli strike. Sha’ban al-Dalou would have turned 20 this week.
We go now to Gaza, where we’re joined by Abubaker Abed, a 21-year-old journalist from Deir al-Balah in Gaza. He used to be a football, or soccer, commentator, but now, as he says, he’s an “accidental” war correspondent. His new report for Drop Site News is titled “Shaaban Al-Dalou, Burned Alive in Gaza, Would Have Been 20 Today.” Sha’ban, burned alive alongside his mother, who was also killed on Monday morning. And we’ve just learned his little brother has succumbed to his injuries.
Abubaker, you wrote in your piece, “’He was then immolated along with his mother. We couldn’t identify which charred body was him. But then, we searched for a gold necklace his mother used to wear. We found it on one body and knew it was her. Then, we buried them in one grave.’” You also shared the tragic news that Sha’ban’s youngest brother Abdul Ruhman has succumbed to his burn wounds. He was 10 years old. Abubaker Abed, you were about the same age as Sha’ban. Talk about how you learned of his story, and the importance of you writing it.
ABUBAKER ABED: First, thank you so much for having me.
But let me just start by saying that Sha’ban’s — after his youngest brother succumbed to his injuries and burns today early in the morning, now the other two sisters are facing the same fate. They are being treated here at Gaza’s hospitals, which lack every basic necessity inside them. So, they are on the verge of also being killed and passing away. So, we’re talking about an entire family that is going to be wiped out. Another family is going to be wiped off the civil record, which is incredibly harrowing.
Regarding the story of Sha’ban, you know, I just live a few steps away from the hospital. I’m here. I’m an original resident of Deir al-Balah. And then, pre-dawn, or before dawn exactly, an attack happened, and I was harshly awakened, as this is the norm over the course of time since this genocide started. So, when the footage and the videos really went viral on social media and everywhere, then I saw — I was just looking at the photos and the videos, and there was someone inside engulfed by flames, being burned alive in front of millions of people. That was, to me, something special, because I could not really comprehend it. I could not really stay silent. It’s my duty to honor such a memory, particularly because when I knew for the very first time that he was going to be — or, he was 19 years old, and just two days ago he turned 20, if he would have been alive, then I felt that this is my story, because no one else across the globe would really have done this story in the way I could.
We are about the same age, as you mentioned. He memorized the Qur’an. I memorized the Qur’an. He dreamt of completing his studies. I also dream of completing my studies. And our message is very clear from here. We are young men that have nothing to do with this war. We’re not a party to this war. We have no connection with Hamas. But we are very daily being subjected to sheer violence and brutality that has nothing to do with this war. It just keeps going on and on, and without any stop, even after the news of the killing of the Hamas leader. There seems to be no stop, which is incredibly devastating for us. What more should we really endure and go through so this war can stop?
So, the life of Sha’ban should be honored. I’m so proud, I’m so honored, I’m so privileged to have honored his memory, because he had a life once. Israel destroyed his house, reduced his university to rubble. He just started his university studies two years ago. And then, an entire life, a university human, just reduced to ashes. This is the barbarity and brutality of what Israel is about.
AMY GOODMAN: Abubaker, I want to tell the audience around the world who’s watching now, the noise behind you. You are right and front of Al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir al-Balah, where Sha’ban ultimately died of his injuries. Explain how he built this tent, where he had come from for his family. You also spoke to his father, and you spoke to his cousin, who was also named Sha’ban.
ABUBAKER ABED: Yes, it’s just devastating. They are now appealing to everyone on outside, the world, that we want to help the entire family. We want to help the other members that are still surviving their burns. But, unfortunately, there seems to be no end. People over all around me, they are heading to hospitals because they think hospitals are probably or are seemingly the safest places here in Gaza. But the fact is that there is no safe place in Gaza. Sha’ban fled his home from the al-Nasr neighborhood in Gaza City to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital from the very first days of this incredibly harsh genocide. And he sought refuge here, but, unfortunately, he was killed. He was immolated alongside his mother, and now his brother, his youngest brother, has passed away. We’re now talking about a very high possibility that the other two sisters of Sha’ban will join them.
Now, it’s just incredibly devastating and disappointing to hear about such innocent souls being taken, being stolen, loads of dreams and loads of things. And it’s the same fate. They are being treated now inside hospitals in Gaza, these hospitals. As Israel continues its blockade of medical aid entering the strip, the closure of the two crossings in Gaza, Karem Abu Salem and Rafah crossings, are making things very difficult to treat many patients, even here inside the facility of the hospital here. We’re talking about, like, funerals after funerals, you know, a lot of people wailing over the bodies of their loved ones. Mothers are crying and suffering in pain. Children don’t have food.
And it’s the same story for me. I just have — you know, I’m just being starved. I’m incredibly going through such a devastating and harsh time, where I can’t find anything, any means of life. It’s been a year. These people’s wounds haven’t yet been healed up. We want to talk about that, that even time doesn’t heal their wounds. We just want to bring to the world, conjure up to the world the idea that or the many reasons why this world should push for a ceasefire, should make the ceasefire, should trigger a ceasefire deal very soon. Because it seems incredibly heartbreaking, what we are seeing on a very daily basis. Even just minutes before I’m talking to you, I mean, the Israeli military has ratcheted up its attacks in central Gaza and the northern parts and here in our city. So, the overall situation we talked about is just getting dire and deteriorating every single day.
Why? The main question is: Why? What does Israel want to achieve here in Gaza after nearly obliterating every meter of Gaza? This seems incredibly and unbelievably heartbreaking.
AMY GOODMAN: Abubaker, I wanted to play Sha’ban’s uncle, Abdulhay al-Dalou.
ABDULHAY AL-DALOU: [translated] The occupation is the incinerator. The most difficult thing for a person is to be burned. This is a message to the world. I wish the world look at it and see the reactions of people regarding this burning of a Palestinian person who is being tortured day and night. Nobody looks at the Palestinian person with mercy, neither the Arab countries nor the Western countries, nor the countries of the international community.
AMY GOODMAN: Again, that is Sha’ban al-Dalou’s uncle, Abdulhay al-Dalou, talking after Sha’ban died. Sha’ban was 19. Our guest right now, Abubaker Abed, is 21. As we were showing video of Sha’ban, Abubaker, I couldn’t help think how much he looks like you. You’re similar ages. There you are in front of the hospital. And I also couldn’t help notice how skinny you are. How are you getting food? And how is your own family getting food?
ABUBAKER ABED: Honestly, as I told you, as Israel continues closing the two crossings across the besieged territory, there is no food being allowed into the strip. We just mainly depend on some loaves of bread, which is our daily struggle, to get food. I don’t know where else across the globe, across the entirety of the globe, getting food and looking for some water is an arduous journey. We are struggling. We are, you know, exerting so much efforts to just get a sip of water and then some food.
I dream — I’m talking about myself here, as someone who is struggling with my weak immune system. There’s nothing to do with this war in particular. I haven’t got any, since this genocide started, any food, any fresh food that I can really help myself with. I’m most of the time fatigued, which is a result and a symptom of Israel’s continued genocide. It’s the same thing. My family are the same. My parents are sick. We haven’t been able to provide my parents with any medications, with any needed medications over the course of the past time. So, it’s not only my struggle. It’s the struggle of every single one here in Gaza.
And because we are talking about Sha’ban, Sha’ban was starved. He was immunocompromised, as well. And he had gone through many times of — you know, many times of gastroenteritis, hepatitis A virus, before even being injured inside Al-Aqsa Martyrs Mosque, when he was injured and his head was stitched up by 20 sutures.
I don’t know when this barbarity and insanity will stop, but it just continues. And we could be — again, my message to the world is that I could be the next Sha’ban. Anyone could be the next Sha’ban, because Israel is allowed to do anything. There are no international laws that can prevent Israel from doing — from continuing its open war crimes in Gaza. There is no law. And even my understanding is that the international laws and the rights of living, rights of freedom for every human being around the world are enshrined into humanity, into our globe, as we call it, but the claim to humanity we’re talking about has just been exposed when this genocide started, because the double standards of the Western community are extremely devastating and also disgusting and just took —
AMY GOODMAN: Abubaker —
ABUBAKER ABED: They just took the lives of many, many and thousands of people.
AMY GOODMAN: I want to thank you so much for being with us.
ABUBAKER ABED: We need to talk about this.
AMY GOODMAN: I hate to cut you off. Thank you so much for being with us. Abubaker Abed writes that he looks at pictures of food on the internet. He’s a 21-year-old journalist from Deir al-Balah in Gaza, standing outside the hospital where Sha’ban burned to death. I’m Amy Goodman. Thanks for joining us.
Truthout Is Preparing to Meet Trump’s Agenda With Resistance at Every Turn
Dear Truthout Community,
If you feel rage, despondency, confusion and deep fear today, you are not alone. We’re feeling it too. We are heartsick. Facing down Trump’s fascist agenda, we are desperately worried about the most vulnerable people among us, including our loved ones and everyone in the Truthout community, and our minds are racing a million miles a minute to try to map out all that needs to be done.
We must give ourselves space to grieve and feel our fear, feel our rage, and keep in the forefront of our mind the stark truth that millions of real human lives are on the line. And simultaneously, we’ve got to get to work, take stock of our resources, and prepare to throw ourselves full force into the movement.
Journalism is a linchpin of that movement. Even as we are reeling, we’re summoning up all the energy we can to face down what’s coming, because we know that one of the sharpest weapons against fascism is publishing the truth.
There are many terrifying planks to the Trump agenda, and we plan to devote ourselves to reporting thoroughly on each one and, crucially, covering the movements resisting them. We also recognize that Trump is a dire threat to journalism itself, and that we must take this seriously from the outset.
Last week, the four of us sat down to have some hard but necessary conversations about Truthout under a Trump presidency. How would we defend our publication from an avalanche of far right lawsuits that seek to bankrupt us? How would we keep our reporters safe if they need to cover outbreaks of political violence, or if they are targeted by authorities? How will we urgently produce the practical analysis, tools and movement coverage that you need right now — breaking through our normal routines to meet a terrifying moment in ways that best serve you?
It will be a tough, scary four years to produce social justice-driven journalism. We need to deliver news, strategy, liberatory ideas, tools and movement-sparking solutions with a force that we never have had to before. And at the same time, we desperately need to protect our ability to do so.
We know this is such a painful moment and donations may understandably be the last thing on your mind. But we must ask for your support, which is needed in a new and urgent way.
We promise we will kick into an even higher gear to give you truthful news that cuts against the disinformation and vitriol and hate and violence. We promise to publish analyses that will serve the needs of the movements we all rely on to survive the next four years, and even build for the future. We promise to be responsive, to recognize you as members of our community with a vital stake and voice in this work.
Please dig deep if you can, but a donation of any amount will be a truly meaningful and tangible action in this cataclysmic historical moment. We are presently looking for 275 new monthly donors in the next 3 days.
We’re with you. Let’s do all we can to move forward together.
With love, rage, and solidarity,
Maya, Negin, Saima, and Ziggy