On the morning of October 7, 2023, I woke up in a panic around 6:00 a.m. to the sound of rockets. The sound was unlike anything we were accustomed to—continuous, intense, and heading toward Israel. I did not know what was happening or why the rockets were being launched with such intensity. For a few moments, I was unable to grasp the situation.
I rushed to wake my family, telling them that something major was unfolding, yet I had no answer to the most important question: What exactly was happening?
I had no choice but to get ready for work. I showered quickly, got dressed, and headed out. I sensed that something extraordinary was taking place, though I did not yet realize the magnitude of what had begun.
As soon as I stepped onto the street, I realized I was not alone in this feeling. People were everywhere, faces were tense, and the same questions kept coming up: What is happening? Why are there so many rockets? Rumors began to circulate about the assassination of a prominent Hamas figure, Saleh al-Arouri, yet no one had a clear picture of the unfolding events.
When I arrived at work, we turned on Al Jazeera. The picture gradually became clearer as the channel broadcast footage of Hamas gunmen entering areas of the Gaza envelope.
It was then that I realized this went beyond a fleeting round of shelling—a new war had begun—though its full details and scale were not yet clear. Minutes later, images began pouring in; I saw scenes of gunmen, vehicles, motorcycles, bodies, and hostages—including women and the elderly. It was a shocking moment for me, not only because of what I saw but because of what I anticipated would follow.
I could not accept the killing or hostage-taking of civilians as a legitimate act, nor could I find any religious or humanitarian justification for it.
Subsequently, Al Jazeera broadcast a recording of Mohammed Deif, commander of the Al-Qassam Brigades, announcing the start of Operation "Al-Aqsa Flood" and linking it to what he described as Israeli violations at the Al-Aqsa Mosque and elsewhere.
Reactions in Gaza were mixed; while crowds took to the streets to celebrate—with scenes showing captured Israeli vehicles alongside bodies and hostages—for me, it was not a moment of victory, but a moment of war.
From the very first hours, I was convinced that these events would lead to a full-scale war and that Gaza would pay a staggering price. I feared a catastrophic outcome: that the war would end in widespread destruction across the Strip and the military and political elimination of Hamas.
Despite realizing the magnitude of the risks, I decided to speak my mind.
On the first day, I wrote on X:
"I am a Palestinian journalist from Gaza. From day one, I have condemned the October 7th massacre committed against Israel; it is an act of terrorism that violates the tenets of Islam."
I never expected these words to unleash such a storm of anger against me. A flood of comments and messages poured in; I received death threats and harsh insults, and was accused of treason and acting as an agent for Israel.
Yet, despite all this, I did not back down.
During those hours, news from Israel was arriving rapidly as the country prepared to retaliate. Hours later, it officially announced the start of the war on Gaza, stating that its objectives were to eliminate Hamas—both militarily and as a governing authority—and to recover the hostages.
That morning, I thought I was merely witnessing the start of a new war. I did not know that the sound of rockets waking me at six o'clock would become a turning point in my life, or that what followed would transform my home, my work, my family, and my memories—making that morning a presence that would never leave me.