On the morning of October 7, 2023, Ismail Abu Hatab, a photojournalist, woke up to the deafening roar of rockets being fired from Gaza towards Israel. "It felt like the world was ending," he recalled. Ismail instinctively grabbed his phone, seeking clarity in the chaos. The headlines were unthinkable reports of a large-scale attack initiated by the Palestinian group Hamas on Israel. "Has the resistance really pulled this off?" he wondered in shock.
For 32-year-old Ismail, the initial hours were a blur of activity. "I immediately started preparing - charging my camera equipment, emptying memory disks on my laptop, and reaching out to my fellow journalists and photographers to verify the situation," Ismail told NDTV. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he grabbed his camera and ventured out, initially staying close to his neighbourhood in Gaza City, uncertain of what would come next. He joined his colleagues at the Al-Shifa medical complex, Gaza's largest hospital. Together, they climbed to the top of a tall building to capture the unfolding chaos.
After October 7, Gaza descended into mayhem. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu ordered an invasion of Gaza. The besieged Palestinian enclave witnessed relentless strikes, with entire neighbourhoods flattened and reduced to rubble.
Photo Credit: Ismail Abu Hatab
"The following days were relentless. We lost some of our fellow journalists, and working conditions became incredibly difficult. We were forced to sleep on the streets after threats were made to media
offices, and we began operating out of the Al-Shifa medical complex for a while due to the internet blackout in Gaza. Despite the brutal attacks by the Israeli military, we continued risking our lives to document the invasion," Ismail told NDTV.
Covering War In Gaza
For Ismail, work continued from the Al-Ghafari tower, Gaza's tallest building, where international and local journalists had set up a small office to document the strikes. But conditions were brutal. "There was no electricity, so we relied on electronic SIM cards to access the internet," Ismail recalled. Running up and down the tower's sixteen floors to capture footage had become routine. "If it was too dangerous to go home, we would sleep in our cars or even on the streets." Every day, the toll grew - physically and mentally - but the mission remained the same: to document Gaza's reality under siege.
Photo Credit: Ismail Abu Hatab
Safety measures for journalists in Gaza are virtually nonexistent, Ismail explained, leaving many local reporters in an extremely precarious position. "While international news agencies provide some journalists with protective gear, vehicles, and offices, the resources available to local journalists are quite limited." For freelancers like Ismail, the challenges are even greater. There is no institutional support, no protective vests, no insurance. "Freelancers are left to fend for themselves," he says. Despite the lack of safety equipment, he continued his work, relying on his colleagues' help for transportation and protection when possible.
"During the conflict, many international agencies asked their journalists to leave Gaza City and move south for their safety. My work was often a collaborative effort with other journalists who had
access to safety equipment and transportation, but this was only temporary. Personally, I found it difficult to secure a press vest and safe transport, relying on help from my colleagues for protection when possible," Ismail told NDTV.
A Faint Yellow Light
The risks culminated in tragedy on November 2, 2023, when Ismail was injured during an Israeli airstrike while working at the Al-Ghafari tower. "That night was intense-Israeli airstrikes were relentless, wiping out entire residential blocks," he recalled. The morning after, as he sat down to edit footage from the previous day, disaster struck.
"By morning, after making a cup of coffee, I sat down to review and edit footage from the previous day. As I worked, everything suddenly went dark. I couldn't hear or see anything for a moment. Then I realised I was buried under rubble - an entire wall had collapsed on me," Ismail said.
Photo Credit: Ismail Abu Hatab
Ismail's colleagues rushed to pull him out, and the pain hit him like a wave. "I remember seeing a faint yellow light through the dust, but I was completely disoriented. My left leg was severely injured. I could not stand. They carried me down 16 flights of stairs, and every step was agonising." With Israeli missiles exploding indiscriminately around the neighbourhood, the idea of an ambulance coming to rescue Ismail was unthinkable.
With his body covered in blood and his leg badly damaged, he was rushed to Al-Shifa Hospital by his colleagues. By the time they arrived, he had lost consciousness.
He woke to a scene of utter chaos. "The sounds of injured people, death, and cries of farewell surrounded me."
Due to the overwhelming number of casualties, Ismail could not get a bed, let alone the surgery he needed. A colleague took him to a tent for journalists, where he waited for days. Eventually, he was transferred to the Palestine Red Crescent Hospital in Tel Al-Hawa in southern Gaza City, but as fate would have it, the hospital itself came under siege. Ismail and others trapped inside feared for their lives, with Israeli forces advancing outside.
Road To Recovery
After days of terror, a breakthrough came - a phone call from the Israeli army, granting them half an hour to evacuate the injured. "We were loaded onto a truck under heavy fire," Ismail recalled. But even the evacuation was fraught with danger. At a checkpoint, Israeli forces forced the injured, including Ismail, to exit the truck, leaving them exposed to sniper fire. Eventually, they were moved to southern Gaza, and Ismail was taken to Al-Amal Hospital in Khan Younis for further medical care. It marked the beginning of a long and painful recovery process that would span months.
Photo Credit: Ismail Abu Hatab
"I was taken to Al-Amal Hospital for further medical evaluation and then moved to stay with my sister in Khan Younis. Unfortunately, during this time, the Israeli army advanced further, and my brother-in-law was killed. We had to flee again, moving from Khan Younis to Rafah, then to Deir Al-Balah," Ismail told NDTV.
The scars of that day, both physical and psychological, are still raw for Ismail. "For ten months, I could not walk," he said. "My recovery has been slow."
Despite undergoing a second surgery, the procedure was botched, and he's still awaiting treatment abroad to correct it. "Despite everything, my recovery has been entirely personal," Ismail lamented, adding that no organisation - whether local or international - has offered financial support for his treatment. "I've had to cover all the expenses myself. Currently, I am unemployed, but I'm trying to rebuild my life."
'So Much Death'
The scenes that Ismail witnessed as a photojournalist continue to haunt him. "One of the most disturbing things I have witnessed is the use of fire belts - indiscriminate, sudden, and deadly," he said. "Buildings and entire neighbourhoods collapse. Lives are lost as if they were just numbers." It is the human toll that weighs heaviest on him. "Children, women, the elderly - all innocent lives taken away. When I go into the field to document these events, I often see people trapped under the rubble. It haunts me."
"I ask myself, what was their fault? Why are they dying when they loved life? What were their dreams? What were they doing just before they were killed? How did they live? What about their children and their spouses? I have seen many martyrs, their meals still in front of them, unable to finish eating because they were killed. I think about that moment they must have felt just before death. Why is an innocent person with simple dreams, a beautiful family, and a modest living taken away so cruelly?
Photo Credit: Ismail Abu Hatab
"I have seen so much death. The mass graves and the final farewells - these things affect me deeply. How can one group of people decide the fate of another and kill them in this way? "
One particularly harrowing experience stands out in his memory. After the bombing of the Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital, Ismail met a mother and her young son. The boy suffered serious injuries to his internal organs due to an airstrike, affecting his mental health severely. "He was such a kind and cheerful boy," Ismail said. Trapped together for days at the Palestine Red Crescent Hospital during the siege, Ismail recalled a particularly poignant moment. "A man ran after our truck, shouting the boy's name. He climbed onto the truck and embraced him, saying, 'Forgive me, I didn't see you because I was busy saving others'. The man was the boy's father."
In this reunion, Ismail found a rare moment of humanity amidst the wanton carnage.
Photo Credit: Ismail Abu Hatab
Another haunting memory is of a man Ismail helped rescue from beneath the rubble of a collapsed building near his home. "I heard a faint sound coming from beneath the rubble," he recalled. Along with local young men, he pulled the man out alive. By chance, he met the survivor again while recovering at the Red Crescent Hospital. "You are a miracle. How did you survive?" Ismail asked him. The man's calm response: "By the will of God, because I take care of orphans."
Mental Toll Of Covering War
Journalists covering war and conflict often suffer post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Being a photojournalist who has witnessed everything from children with their limbs severed to the destruction of infrastructure on an unprecedented scale, Ismail's mental health remains affected.
Photo Credit: Ismail Abu Hatab
"I suffer from significant effects due to the experiences I've been through. I face difficulties with sleep, memory issues, and depression. The sounds of explosions and the cries of the families of martyrs echo in my mind." Despite the emotional and physical pain, Ismail continues to document Gaza's suffering, driven by a sense of duty towards his country. "I believe that I was created for a reason in this life," he said, "and I possess skills in filmmaking and storytelling that empower me to share the truth."
Many journalists in Gaza have paid the ultimate price for telling that truth. "I have lost colleagues and friends in this war," Ismail said. "But I have chosen to remain here, refusing to leave Gaza, because this country needs me. How can I abandon it in its time of need?"
