The new graves in the main cemetery in Khan Younis, in the south of Gaza, have been hastily laid in close rows, often just as mounds of sand. For most, jagged chunks of concrete or breeze blocks, or plastic boards, serve as headstones.
When there are funerals, which is often, the graveyard is full of activity. Otherwise, mourners grieve in silence and the only sounds are the laughing play of the displaced children living in tents nearby and the occasional chirping of birds.
On Thursday, Hisham Lafi, 62, had come to visit the graves of his two sons, who were 28 and 22 when they were killed early in the conflict when they went together to collect food from an NGO.
“My sons told me that I should rest and that one of them would go and collect [the aid package] instead. They argued about who would go and eventually decided to go together,” Lafi said. “They left at 11.30am, and by 1.30 in the afternoon, I was worried. I rang their phones, but no one answered. Finally, someone answered my eldest son Mohammed’s phone. I asked: ‘Where are you? Come back so we can have lunch.’ A voice said: ‘This isn’t Mohammed. Mohammed has been martyred, and his body is now at Nasser hospital.’
“I ran to the hospital. At first, I thought only Mohammed had been killed. But when I arrived, I found one of his friends. His voice trembled as he said: ‘May God give you patience.’ I asked about my other son, and he said again: ‘May God give you patience.’
“I understood then that I had lost both of them. I couldn’t bring myself to see them in their burial shrouds. I couldn’t bear the thought of replacing the last memory of them joking and laughing with the image of them in shrouds. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep again.”
Lafi did not celebrate the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in Gaza which came into force last Sunday. The Israeli offensive in the territory, triggered by the surprise Hamas attack into Israel in October 2023 which killed about 1,200, mostly civilians, has killed more than 47,900, also mostly civilians.
“Mohammed was an engineer,” said Lafi. “He was planning to get married after the war. Haitham was studying IT programming. He used to say that as soon as the war ended, he would leave Gaza, but he left for paradise instead. Praise be to God.”
The ceasefire in Gaza, however fragile, means people are now able to move around the devastated territory for the first time for many months. For some, the first priority was to visit the Khan Younis cemetery.
Kholoud Maher Zayed, 37, said she had come to the cemetery to put a sign on the grave of her 19-year-old son, Alaa, buried in great haste in August. He was killed helping his father dismantle the family’s tent during a forced evacuation from another part of Khan Younis.
“Everything was different after his loss. He was the light that illuminated my darkness. He took lots of responsibility and was a great support, especially because my husband is disabled,” Zayed said. “When the ceasefire was announced, I wished he was here to rejoice with everyone else, and for me to see him in their midst, cheering and singing and shouting, but this was not God’s will.”
Not far from the graveyard, Palestinians on bicycles, in cars or on foot crowded pitted, rubbish-strewn streets. Many were heading south to parts of southern and central Gaza that the ceasefire has made accessible for the first time for months. Witnesses described “a certain vibrancy in the air, a mix of cautious hope and newfound relief”. Some access to the north was due to be restored on Saturday.
Ahmed Hosni Nabhan, 37, had come to visit the grave of his father, a 61-year-old former bulldozer driver who died in December 2023 when a civil defence team and journalists were hit by a missile near Khan Younis.
“On the morning we lost my father, we all woke up early and all gathered around him before he went out to work. He looked at us as if it was his last look,” Nabhan said. “He had breakfast with us and told us not to wait for him for lunch and then he went out, he didn’t tell us his mission or where he was headed. His death was like a thunderbolt on me.
“I came today to tell my father some sad news: that we also lost my brother who disappeared in December. Three days ago, we heard that he had been killed.”
Nabhan was uncertain whether to transport his father’s remains to the family’s home in the ruined town of Beit Lahiya in northern Gaza.
“We would like to move him and put him in the garden of our house,” he said. “If we had to leave him here then the distance would be very far for us to come and visit him and he will surely feel lonely then.”
