Defying Oblivion
It was risky to venture out of our shelter, so our coverage throughout the night was restricted to phone-interviews with Doha. In the early hours of the morning, we started to hear many tragic stories. One, in particular, grabbed our attention. Our crew rushed to the scene in Wadi Al- Qadi. The small house, like many others in the neighbourhood, had been levelled to the ground. The pungent smell of blood was still in the air. There were body parts and blood splattered all around. “Where should we start,” the cameraman asked. But I couldn’t answer. I pictured myself and my family there, in that destroyed house. The scene was so horrifying that I fainted. When I came round, I had bruises on my body, but the worst were those on my soul. The damage deep within me was indescribable. With difficulty, I managed to gather my strength and started to speak to eyewitnesses. “The whole area was shaking as if it were an earthquake. The shelling was heavy and intense. We heard our neighbours screaming for help, but no one could do anything under the heavy barrage,” said one of them.
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