Youssef Hassan, now a refugee in Cairo, survived after being trapped in Gaza in the debris of his apartment following an Israeli bombardment. (Credit: Rita Basbous)
“I speak to you from beyond the grave,” said Youssef Hassan. Sitting in a modestly furnished apartment in the working-class neighborhood of al-Haykestep, north of Cairo, the young man recounted the harrowing ordeal he recently endured.
Just three days prior, he had escaped from Gaza, besieged by relentless Israeli bombardment since Oct.7, carrying only a small amount of hand luggage.
A musician who once taught at the Edward Said YMCA in Tal al-Hawa, Hassan managed to flee thanks to an online fundraising campaign launched by an organization. Standing six feet tall, with shaggy hair and a bewildered expression, his gaze wandered at times.
In his 24 years of life, he has experienced several wars and numerous displacements. Danger has become a constant companion. Tragically, many of his family members, including two beloved brothers, perished in the ongoing Gaza war.
Hassan narrowly escaped the same fate. “I spent 21 hours under the rubble,” he said.
An evening with electricity
Hassan and his family sat for tea on Friday, Oct.28, 2023.
Two of his aunts and their families had just arrived from the al-Karama area, in the far north of the Gaza Strip, fleeing violent bombardments. Youssef’s town, Tal al-Hawa, in the north of the coastal enclave, had also been heavily shelled since the start of the Israeli offensive launched in response to Hamas attacks.
Late that evening, the music teacher chatted with his three brothers and sister.
“We were joking around and I remember that the electricity was still on,” Hassan recalled. “Our discussion revolved around the enclave’s fate when the conflict ended. We wondered what the point would be in rebuilding Gaza if the Israelis were to destroy the territory again.”
Suddenly, an explosion boomed, and the building began to shake. A few seconds later, a shell fell on them.
“I heard deafening screams, the building collapsed, and I lost consciousness,” Hassan said. “It was past midnight.”
Hassan woke up to the sound of screams. He found himself buried under four floors of his seven-story building. Suffocating and sweltering in the intense heat, he felt nauseous, and every limb ached from the weight of the concrete.
“What saved me was a sloping section of wall. It prevented all the other walls from crushing me completely. But the concrete trapped me; I couldn’t move,” he recounted. Terrified, he desperately sought news of his family: “Who’s alive?” He asked.
“No one answered. Amidst the panic, my panting and screaming only exacerbated the situation. I quickly realized that the more I shouted, the more oxygen I depleted within the confined space between the concrete walls. I decided to conserve my energy and pray for rescue,” Hassan recalled, his voice trembling with emotion.
‘The silence seemed surreal’
Hassan then tried a survival technique: He breathed slowly, focusing on each inhale and exhale to maintain composure, then resumed normal breathing. He counted each passing second to avoid losing track of time.
Yet, every second felt like an eternity. Every bone in his body ached, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how he would meet his end — crushed under the rubble of his apartment. The oppressive silence of the debris weighed heavily upon him.
“As a musician, the silence unsettled me; it felt surreal as if the very essence of life had been muted,” he said. Suddenly, out of the void, a voice called out: “Youssef, Youssef...”
“That was the moment of a miracle for me. Hours passed, and it wasn’t until I heard my brother’s voice that hope returned,” he said. “Knowing someone else had survived bolstered my spirits. My brother said he could feel our sister’s hand and see our mother’s legs moving.”
“We engaged in a discussion that, amid our dire circumstances, seemed absurd,” Hassan added.
The young man asked his little brother, also trapped beneath the rubble, if he regretted anything in life. “I used to be picky when my mother cooked me nice meals to tease her,” came the reply.
In that moment, seemingly trivial things gained significance. Hassan, meanwhile, contemplated the melancholy that had shadowed him. “I’ve made myself a promise: If I survive, I want to fill my life with joy and leave sadness behind,” he said.
Death loomed inches away
As blood trickled down Hassan’s mouth and nose, he harbored doubts about the possibility of survival. He prayed to God, counted the seconds once more, and watched his life unfold in a rapid succession of memories.
Thoughts of his mother consumed him, and he implored his brother to alert her if he didn’t make it. “I stared at the stone above me, realizing that a mere few centimeters of movement in the concrete could spell the collapse of everything. Death loomed inches away.”
Hassan slipped into unconsciousness once more, only to be woken by a voice: “Is anyone there?” Spotting a glimmer of light, he turned to his brother and asked, “Could it be the light of heaven?” His younger brother erupted in hysterical laughter. “It’s definitely heaven.”
“Hundreds of neighbors, aided by rescue workers and working with minimal resources, participated in the rescue operation, clearing the rubble by hand,” said Hassan, now a refugee in Cairo.
Upon emerging from the debris of his collapsed building, he frantically called out for his family and refused to be taken to the hospital until he was reunited with his mother, brothers and sister.
His two elder brothers were not as fortunate, likely succumbing to their injuries instantly.
His aunts and their children also fell victim to the Israeli airstrike. Their bodies remain trapped beneath the rubble. They are among the 10,000 individuals reported missing in Gaza since the onset of the war nearly seven months ago, as per local authorities cited by the United Nations.
Upon Hassan’s arrival at the hospital, the doctor delivered a sobering revelation to him: He was saved at the eleventh hour.
“I had lost half of my blood. The doctor informed me that I was perilously close to death,” he said. To the young man, this second lease on life was a divine gift, and he’s determined to make the most of it in Cairo, contemplating his future amid the challenges. With limited resources, he’s yet to find his footing in the Egyptian capital and struggles to adapt to a life devoid of bombings.
After months of subsisting on animal feed, his body must readjust to regular nourishment.
While awaiting the opportunity to bring the surviving members of his family out of Gaza, music, his guitar and the companionship of a few friends provide him with some solace amidst the turmoil.
This article was originally published in L'Orient-Le Jour. Translated by Sahar Ghoussoub.
