These young Gazans had other lives. Now they're filming in a warzone

SBS Australia

6 days ago

This article contains content some readers may find distressing. Khaled Al-Kafarneh used to photograph elated brides and grooms being wed. Now he captures lives being torn apart. The 21-year-old Palestinian journalist was previously an events photographer, and says his work came easily at a time when "life was beautiful". The lens of his camera can no longer find similar moments of joy in Gaza. "We're just focused on surviving and documenting," he told The Feed.
Over 20 months of devastation, Khaled's work has never stopped.
Khaled's brother Hussein (left) was killed by an Israeli airstrike in January 2025. Source: Supplied During sunlight hours, he uses a small solar panel to charge his equipment. All electricity to the grid was cut months ago. "We rely completely on solar power now ... But some days, there's no sun, or it's not enough. So I have to choose: charge my phone, or charge my camera," he said. As night falls, he stations himself at one of Gaza's few remaining hospitals, which are overrun and desperate. Patients line the floors, groaning without anesthesia. Mothers wail over dead children. Corpses pile up beside sheltering families. "From there, we'd hear calls that a home had been bombed. The ambulances would go, and we'd ride with them — because driving our own cars was too dangerous.
"We'd film, return with the ambulances, and sometimes get targeted while filming."
Khaled is among a significant number of young Gazans who, despite never having worked in journalism, started documenting the devastation in Gaza after October 2023 — filing both to international news organisations and large followings on Instagram. Hamas' October 7 attack on southern Israel killed 1,200 people, according to Israeli authorities, while about 250 were taken hostage. At least 58,895 Palestinians have been killed and 140,980 injured in Israel's offensive in the Gaza Strip since October 7, the Gaza health ministry said in a statement on Sunday. "During the war, something pushed me to try to get a message out from inside Gaza to the world," he said.
"That's how my journey as a reporter began."
Khaled, who became a journalist after October 7, says he dreams of finishing his education and building a "normal life". Credit: Supplied Israel has continued to restrict foreign media from entering Gaza, and with hundreds of Palestinian journalists killed since October 7, civilians inside the enclave — journalist or not — are left with the responsibility of documenting the war. "Gazan journalists are the only eyes and ears on the ground," Doja Daoud, Levant program coordinator for the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), told The Feed.
"Many Palestinians documenting atrocities on the ground have lost faith after relentlessly telling stories from Gaza, with no effective action to stop atrocities or offer protection."
'I wonder how I'm continuing' Like Khaled, Nadra El-Tibi never thought she'd be a war correspondent before October 7.
But the 25-year-old school teacher and psychological first aid specialist says her fluency in English — a skill she learned by watching videos online — compelled her to "convey the truth from inside Gaza".
Nadra was displaced for more than 500 days in southern Gaza. While sheltering at a refugee camp, she told the stories of the women and children there. Source: Supplied "One of my friends outside the Gaza Strip called me ... [and asked me] to tell the world the facts in Gaza by my English," she told The Feed. Already documenting the war with a daily diary entry, she decided: 'Yes, you must Nadra, as you have English and Arabic language. You must be a journalist to convey the truth to all the world, to the silent world.'" Nadra works without eating for days at a time — as starvation in Gaza reaches "catastrophic levels", according to the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs — and finds little rest amid the sound of bombs and night terrors. "I see with my eyes, I see with my own eyes people who are cut up, their heads detached from their bodies," she said. "Sometimes I wonder how I'm continuing." One of the hardest moments, Nadra says, was at the site of the al-Baqa Cafeteria bombing — a bustling seaside internet cafe in Gaza City, popular with journalists and students. Initial reports said at least 24 people were killed, but that number has since increased to 30.
Relatives mourn over the body of journalist Ismail Abu Hatab, who was among at least 30 people killed by an Israeli airstrike on Al-Baqa Cafe in Gaza City Source: EPA / Haitham Imad/ Getty Among them was 32-year-old photojournalist and film director Ismail Abu Hatab.
"I went to the spot and half of the people were still in the sea, killed in the sea, and another half on the ground," Nadra said.
Can you imagine? I was speechless in that moment … I couldn't speak any word. People present have described it as a "massacre" and a Human Rights Watch spokesperson said it was "an unlawful, disproportionate or indiscriminate attack".
Israel has said the strike targeted Hamas operatives. An Israel Defense Forces (IDF) spokesperson told the Guardian that "prior to the strike, steps were taken to mitigate the risk of harming civilians using aerial surveillance".
'Worst ever conflict' for journalists Khaled and Nadra's journalistic pursuit is one that is uniquely dangerous. More than 185 of their colleagues have been killed in Gaza since October 7, according to a database by the CPJ. It alleges Israel is directly targeting journalists, which Israel denies. Another analysis estimates that number could be as high as 232.
The report, by the Cost of War project at the Watson Institute for International and Public Affairs at Brown University in the US, published in April, also declared it the "worst ever conflict" for journalists and media reporters.
It found more journalists have been killed in Gaza than in any other war, including the US Civil War, World Wars One and Two, the Korean War, the Vietnam War (including the conflicts in Cambodia and Laos), the wars in Yugoslavia in the 1990s and 2000s, and the post-9/11 war in Afghanistan. In a statement to The Feed, the IDF said it has never deliberately targeted journalists. "Given the ongoing exchanges of fire, remaining in an active combat zone has inherent risk," it said.
"The IDF will continue to counter threats while persisting to mitigate harm to civilians."
Running on low batteries Amid a landscape of mostly rubble, the telecommunication infrastructure needed to support the delivery of journalism in Gaza barely exists.
Over 70 per cent of the enclave's networks have been partially or completely destroyed since October 7, according to the Palestinian Ministry of Telecommunication and Digital Economy.
The remaining networks are subject to partial or full outages ordered by Israel, of which 10 have occurred so far — each threatening to suspend aid efforts and emergency assistance. Between 10 and 21 June, the Gaza Strip experienced a total internet blackout and widespread mobile phone interruptions, described by the Palestinian Telecommunications Regulatory Authority as "systematic targeting". The IDF did not respond to a request for comment before publication.
"When the military cut the internet, we used SIM cards and tried to get close to the border, which was dangerous. Those SIM cards only worked in those border areas, where Israeli troops were stationed," Khaled said.
Some journalists were killed while uploading footage, or just while changing SIMs. What's more, the flow of electricity to the last facility in Gaza receiving power from the Israel Electric Corporation was cut in March. There's been none since.
Khaled says his small solar panel setup is "just enough to charge my phone or camera if there's sunlight". On cloudy days, he's learned to work under-resourced.
"Since electricity is scarce, people have set up small businesses just for charging phones, and they make money from this," Khaled says. Credit: Mohammed Talatene / picture alliance via Getty Images "I use power banks too, but they run out quickly. It's a daily struggle."
Palestinians in Gaza rely heavily on mobile phones to heed evacuation orders, navigate the rubble, access information on aid or medical services, call an ambulance and maintain connection to their families.
Press vests are 'a target' Khaled's press vest is tattered and frayed after months of incessant use. Ill-matched stitching marks where a tailor has made careful repairs. While offering little protection from falling bombs, the blue and white flak jacket is an internationally recognised symbol, designed to distinguish journalists from combatants during wartime. But Khaled says it has lost all meaning in Gaza.
"It's nothing more than sponge and cloth."
Journalists were killed right in front of me … The laws have been broken here. "I don't feel safe in Gaza no matter what … but especially when wearing the press vest and helmet," she wrote to Instagram in November 2023, just days before being evacuated to Egypt via the Rafah border crossing and then to Australia.
Rafah has been closed since May 2024.
More journalists were killed in the first 10 weeks of the war than have ever been killed in a single country over an entire year, the CPJ found. "Journalists have been a target in Gaza since day one," Daoud says. "[They've] repeatedly told the Committee to Protect Journalists ... they think the press vest itself has become a target. Likewise, with their use of a tripod while capturing footage of a besieged Gaza.
"We've seen the blatant disregard of international law, and the lack of accountability and silence from world leaders that has ensued."
An IDF spokesperson told The Feed it "takes all operationally feasible measures to mitigate harm to civilians including journalists".
"The IDF has never, and will never, deliberately target journalists as such."
'And yet I keep going' Despite living through many previous cycles of violence in Gaza, Khaled says the loss he's experienced in the past 20 months is immeasurable. "I lost my brother, lost my home, saw friends die. And yet I keep going," he said.
"Even when I'm scared, I force myself to keep going. There's no choice.
We don't even think about mental health anymore. That's a luxury for people in peaceful places. For Nadra, her dream of motherhood was stolen. "The hospital that I was visiting to take some of the health care to be pregnant … was destroyed," she says, referring to an IVF clinic.
"My childhood [dream] was killed because of this war, after seven years of waiting to be pregnant."
Still, they both say their duty to journalism — and to Gaza — is steadfast. "This is my job. Even if it puts my life at risk, it's my duty to carry it out to the fullest," Khaled said. Likewise, Nadra says: "It's my duty. I love Gaza. I love my English. I love my work." "But if I were killed, I will not forgive anyone. Anyone who saw us and remained [silent]."
SBS Arabic provided interpretation assistance.