July 31, 2024 – Two years have passed since Ismail al-Ghoul was brutally targeted by Israeli aircraft while reporting on Gaza’s situation. As I reflect on those fateful days, I am reminded of his unwavering dedication to telling the stories that need to be told.
I first met Ismail at a time when our family and ours were sheltering at al-Shifa Hospital after being displaced from our home in Jabalia. My father knew him personally, having taken me to meet him before he began reporting on Gaza’s situation. I was struck by his kindness and compassion towards us, particularly towards my younger sister Zina.
Ismail became a close friend of our family over the months that followed, not just as a journalist but also as someone who genuinely cared for us. He spoke about his wife and daughter with such love and longing, it broke my heart to see him so consumed by grief. His advice to invest in one’s English was more than just words – it became a guiding principle in our lives.
As we came to know Ismail better, he shared stories of his little girl Zina, who had been displaced from their home in southern Gaza. He spoke about the war with such intensity that I felt like I could hear her voice through him. His love for her was palpable, and it inspired me to pursue my own dreams.
Ismail’s friendship extended beyond our family; he became a close friend of my older brother Oday as well. We would often spend time together, sharing stories and laughter. He even went out of his way to prepare meals for us when we were injured at al-Shifa Hospital. His kindness was a beacon of hope in the darkest times.
One day, while I was visiting him after being injured, he told me that he had finally managed to speak with my wife Zina. The news brought tears of joy to our eyes, and it solidified his place as an important figure in our lives.
Ismail’s dedication to telling Gaza’s story didn’t stop there. He would often visit us at home, bringing hot coffee from a thermos he kept for me when I was feeling down. His love for life and his desire to share its stories with the world inspired me to pursue my own passion – writing in English.
In June 2024, our family was displaced again, this time to the home of one of Oday’s friends in Remal. For the first time in months, I could access the internet and charge my phone. It was then that I began searching for media outlets willing to publish Gaza’s stories. Ismail had always encouraged me to write, but it wasn’t until now that he would finally see his work being shared with a wider audience.
The following month saw Ismail sitting in our car near al-Shifa Hospital, drinking coffee and wearing the familiar thermos I remembered him carrying. He was about to embark on one final reporting assignment before his life was cut short by Israel’s military order to evacuate us from our home due to its imminent bombing.
As we fled with nothing but clothes, food, and personal belongings, including Ismail’s cap and coffee thermos, the house that had been a symbol of hope for so many became a reminder of what he left behind. The destruction was devastating, leaving only physical reminders of his presence – the cap, the thermos.
In mid-May 2025, we received a phone call from the Israeli military ordering us to evacuate our home immediately due to imminent bombing. We fled with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the memories of Ismail’s kindness etched in my mind.
The war may have taken his life, but it will never take away the promise he made to me two years ago: that I would keep telling Gaza’s story to the world. Every word I write is a testament to his unwavering dedication to sharing its stories with the world. The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Al Jazeera.
Based on reporting from Al Jazeera.
