‘On Travel’: Family Language Hossam Shabat, journalist killed Israel Israel-Palestinian conflict

They cry, she is still unable to realize that her 23-year-old son killed Israel, exactly as he would always say that he would die – “Martyr” who sacrificed it would be sure that the world knows in Gaza.

Honestly tries words: “My son is a martyr, Hossam … My son is a hero.”

Hossam Shabat, Jazeera journalist Mubasher, was killed by Israel in a target strike on his vehicle on Monday.

Mother’s pain

Amal is in Hossam “Dar Azaa” (condolence house), open space for people who come to pay tribute to the family.

Sitting among women’s cousins, she breaks and lowered his head on his shoulder. Women do their best to comfort her, telling her Hossamu died hero, loved everyone.

In addition to his journalistic work, Hossam has used his movements and links to bring humanitarian aid to people in need to approach, says his family.

“He appeared in his dreams,” Amal sister speaks her. “He was dazzling, like a bride.”

In times of great pain, it is believed that turning to such wrapped disturbances brings little relief.

Refusing to leave the north

Amal and Mahmoud, Hossam’s 28-year-old brother, talk to Al Jazeera Mubasher, alternately between resignations and tears.

Amal tries to paint a picture of the son she returned to the north of Gaza to be close, just to lose him in the Israel attack.

“When we were displaced south, he walked with us in the part, but did not want to go here. We were in Nurioirat all the time (in central Gaza), I would call him to come, but he refused.”

Mahmoud says Hossam is determined to document Israel’s attacks in northern Gaza, because he knew that without cover, violence would be a brush under the carpet. And that’s why Hossam stayed in the north, he says.

Finally, after the ceasefire was declared in late January, the family could return to Gaza City to unite with Hossam. But, says Amal, even then it was difficult to spend time with him and she found them going wherever I worked.

“” What are you doing here, Mother? “He would ask me when I went to find him,” she says. “I would answer that I was there to see him, to spend some time with him.”

Knowing he’s going to die

Early in war, Hossam began to tell her family to know that Israel would kill him, but he felt his duty to continue to do what he was doing.

“He knew, he knew that the journalist was in Gaza, to tell the truth, meant he would be killed,” says Mahmoud, adding to threaten Hossam before he was threatening and already killed.

Looking at her rushing her son for danger wasn’t easy for Amala, she says. “Whenever someone invited him, whenever someone said something happens somewhere, he would fly, he was like a bird.

“Wherever the destruction was, wherever there was death, he would overlook there. I was scared, I would say to stay back, to stay away from danger.

“But he replied,” Mother, he writes, even if I was home if I hid in my arms would kill me. ”

“” I’m a martyr, I know that, “he would say to me. Just think of me like it’s away on the trip.”

And so she would wait for him, she says, waiting for him to hear every morning whether it’s okay or killed. Soon she was afraid of the sound of the phone that rang, worrisome that he would bring bad news.

The heart of a child

Hossam’s colleagues spoke with the Arab place of Al Jazeera about greater than a character, full of love, joy and always willing to help.

“Hossam touched people’s pains, with his camera and voice. People in shelters and tents, is completely in line with suffering and they loved him,” Al Jazeera Mohamed Quraiqaa said.

“He was always there – during the displacement, under the Israeli bombarding, and in the face of death.”

So much, his journalist, the friend of Youssef Fars, said that even other journalists would persuade him to easily take him, to be more careful as he continued to have ahead.

“Hossam was very innocent, he had a heart … a big child. But he was so impulsive that he went too far.

“We would retreat when the bombing is too much, but he would approach, to cover him. We often scared him.”

“At least I could bury him”

When Mahmoud starts to talk, his eyes are red and his voice is dim.

“Hossam wanted to say the whole truth. He wanted to convey that to the world,” he says. “He would always say,” Coverage will continue. It will continue even if the price is death. “”

Mahmoud breaks up, his words chewed as he looks aside, trying not to cry.

“If the massacre is deed and no one documented that, it’s like it never happened,” he says, Haulingly, his lips tremble.

“Someone had to, and Hossam was that hero. No matter how many times he told him he did enough, he told us he couldn’t stop, and even if he couldn’t forgive him for journalists.”

Hossam’s family worried as they were displaced, so much that their conversation often turned into an attempt to figure out what would do if Hossam were killed while killed.

“We actually talked and wondered how …” Mahmoude ran the words into the breath in breath as he tried to stop crying. “… to organize the ‘gift azaa’ for Hossam to have to do so in the Tent camp.

“But in the end, God was kind. He is kind to let us go back to us and be with him 30, 40 days, although we could barely see it.

“I thank God I’m here, so I can walk in his funeral procession and bury him … at least.

“Imagine – I thank God you were there when your brother died and could bury him.”