How the world failed Ryan and Yaman

ESSAYAn Israeli strike killed my children. What pains me is not just their loss but also the normalisation of their murder.I woke up beneath the rubble, surrounded by darkness, dust, collapsed concrete and the screams of my six-year-old son Nasser crying hysterically above the ruins, trying to reach my buried fingers.In those moments, I believed I was dying.What I did not yet know was that a part of me had already died.When I emerged, I discovered that my 51-day-old baby Ryan had been recovered lifeless after spending more than an hour trapped under the debris. He was a child born during a temporary “ceasefire” in the war. Life had briefly granted him permission to see the world before taking him away almost immediately.His body was so small that I wrapped him in part of my own clothing, afraid he would feel cold.I was told Yaman, my seven-year-old, had suffered only minor injuries and had been taken to the hospital. The truth, however, was that my little boy had died before reaching it. They brought him back to me lifeless, only moments after I had bid farewell to Ryan.On that winter day in January 2024 on the outskirts of Gaza City, my whole world was shattered.Like countless mothers in Gaza, I had feared hunger for my children. I had feared displacement, terror and interrupted education. But despite everything, I never dared to think of death.Ryan never had the chance to grow up and enjoy his childhood. He was denied the chance to run, play and laugh with his brothers.Yaman, on the other hand, had shown us his amazing potential.We called him “the little philosopher” because of the way he spoke formal Arabic with astonishing fluency and spent hours watching documentaries about space, wildlife, oceans and plants. He loved books deeply, memorised stories of the prophets and joined a Quran memorisation centre shortly before the war. Even during bombardment and displacement, we continued reciting verses together.The author’s son Yaman in his school graduation gown. [Courtesy of Aya Shamaa]He was a very sensitive child. He refused to eat meat because he loved animals so much and could not understand why they were harmed and killed.