One of the clearest signs of Israel’s genocidal intent in Gaza has been its unrelenting, targeted attacks on children and families. Israel has slaughtered more than 11,000 Palestinian children over the past year, and there are also over 17,000 children who have lost their parents and caretakers. These orphans have been largely embraced by their communities, but must still find a way to survive the war without their closest loved ones. The Real News reports from Khan Younis, speaking to Alma, age 12, and Mahmoud, age 13, who have both survived Israeli massacres that killed the majority of their relatives. Producer: Belal Awad, Leo ErhardtVideographer: Ruwaida Amer, Mahmoud Al MashharawiVideo Editor: Leo Erhardt Transcript NARRATOR: For those children who escape death, surviving has its own challenges. According to UNICEF, At least 17,000 children were estimated to be unaccompanied or separated from their parents in the Gaza Strip in February 2024, four months into the war. Today, that number is likely significantly higher.  ALMA MOHAMED GHANEM JAROUR: Come and sit. Look how nice the camp looks. There’s the first medical point, and there is the second. There’s the administration point.  NARRATOR: Alma Jarour was the sole survivor of an Israeli air strike that flattened the entire building where she was taking refuge, killing a reported 140 people in total, and almost every single member of her extended family.  She is only one of the orphans staying at the “Dar Al Baraka” orphanage, a single tent in a sea of refugee tents, designated exclusively for orphans West of the city of Khan Yunis.  ALMA: Where do you like to go?  GIRL 1: I like the amusement park!  ALMA: And you, Samaa?  GIRL 2: I like to go to restaurants!  ALMA: —And I like to go to the sea!  ALMA: The place I used to love to go to the most before the war was the sea. When the war began, the Yarmuk mosque was targeted and it was next to our house. I felt strangled, my chest was constricted. I was so scared, I would hide in my mum’s arms. We would sleep in my mum and dad’s arms. We would not move from our places. We were in my uncle’s building. The entire building was bombed. It was full of children and women only.  INTERVIEWER: Where were you?ALMA: I was with them! I was not expecting that. I got out from under the rubble and thought my family had also gotten out. I didn’t expect that. I got out, and then strangers took me to their home. I ran away and went back to the building. The people took me away a second time but I went back to the building again. I got the biggest shock, I found all the people from the building in pieces. In pieces. I don’t know what to tell you.  I came out from the rubble, out of 140 people. I mean, there were 140 people in the building. We’re innocent children, we’re not involved in anything. We’re children.  INTERVIEWER: All your family died?  ALMA: Yes, all of them. What can we say?  NARRATOR: Sami Jihad Haddad is Alma’s aunt’s husband, and one of her only surviving relatives. SAMI JIHAD HADDAD: The house was hit, and the only survivor was Alma. She came out of the rubble after three hours. No one else survived with her, they all died. No one remained for Alma except her aunt, because her aunt was displaced to Al Wasta.  God sent the war and wiped out their entire line. He wiped the near and the far. From the grandfather to the grandson: they’re all gone. This girl survived. No uncle, no father, no grandfather—all of them: may god have mercy on their souls. In the center of this building. They stayed under the rubble for four months, until the neighbors and loved ones pulled them out when the area was cleared after the bombings.  ALMA: I was in the building on the same day, at the time of that same air strike. On that same day I went to the south. What did I find? I found tanks and weapons…  INTERVIEWER: Who did you go with?  ALMA: With my mother’s relatives, but they are not my relatives. We found the Israelis, and tanks and weapons. I mean, we found a sniper who was shooting at us, and tanks were pointing at us! I mean, an unbearable scene.  We found blood. I found blood. But my aunt, she found a corpse. Thrown in the street. I saw a lot of blood. I was walking in the street and I saw a lot of blood. The Israelis were moving in the area, they were in front of us, they were in front of us, it was normal. They had a store of weapons there. They raided a house and took it over and made it their place. They went in and took out a lot of weapons. I mean, these were unbearable scenes at this time. The whole way I was screaming, screaming, screaming. I was screaming for four, five days, I didn’t speak to anyone. I didn’t want to eat. NARRATOR: Like Alma, 12-year-old Mahmoud has also been recently orphaned.  MAHMOUD TAYSIR ABU SHAHMEH: We were sleeping at 3 o’clock at night. We heard a strike and I ran out of the house outside. I was injured from the strike, and that’s it. After I was in the hospital for 14 [days], then we went to sheikh Nasser, then we left to Mashrou’, then to Rafah. Then after Rafah we came here, to Khan Yunis.  INTERVIEWER: How did your parents die?  MAHMOUD: The house was struck, and we lost my mum, my sister, my brother, his wife, his son, my aunt. Then they struck my house at a different time, and we lost my dad, my uncle, my other uncle, my other uncle, my little cousin, my other cousin, my aunt, her son, and my dad’s wife.  INTERVIEWER: And you were left alone?  MAHMOUD: Yeah, I’m left alone, I have three married sisters, they’re all with their husbands.  NARRATOR: Daoud Abu Shahmeh is Mahmoud’s uncle and one of his only surviving relatives. He tells us about Mahdmoud’s anxiety attacks and dark memories that mostly surface at night.  DAOUD ABU SHAHMEH: His mental state is difficult; honestly, it’s bad. What do you expect? A child loses his mother, his father? The air strikes. Every minute, something bombed. What’s his mental state? It’s destroyed! I’m telling you, not the mental state of children, us adults, our mental state is destroyed.  We try to ease his pain. He’s not a baby, he’s 12 years old and he’s aware that his parents have died and gone to heaven. Sometimes he dreams at night and shouts out, ‘Mummy! Daddy! Where are you?’  Everything I can do for him, I do it. He asks and I tell him, may Allah have mercy on your mum. May Allah have mercy on your dad. They were good people. They live in Heaven, God Willing. And may God allow us to join them. Because I swear this is no life. I swear it’s no life. We’re not living. We’re martyrs-in-waiting. Everyone is waiting for their day.  NARRATOR: But during the daylight hours, both Mahmoud and Alma show remarkable resilience.  MAHMOUD: We play football in the evening with the boys here outside. We play for an hour and then we come and sit here.  DAOUD ABU SHAHMEH: I sit with him and we play together. We play football. We throw the ball to each other. I tell them stories about ghouls, old fairy tales. We laugh together. When they get tired, we all go to sleep together.  ALMA: I have coloring pencils and we play together and have fun. Instead of remembering. When I’m alone I start to remember what happened and remember how life before used to be so nice.  I dream that I will go to my grandmother. My grandmother in Germany, my dad’s mother. I want to go to her a lot. I miss her. I want to embrace her and she wants to embrace me.  INTERVIEWER: What do you miss about your mum and dad?  ALMA: Their embrace, honestly. I used to love being in their embrace. I feel their embrace was warm. In winter the best thing is to go and cuddle your mum and dad. Those were sweet days. When this war is over, I will have nothing left. My childhood home is gone. The house we lived the best days of our lives in, is gone. Nothing is left for me when this war is over. That’s all.