The war in Gaza is also unfolding on Instagram

When Hind Khoudary left her home early in the war to report on the wounded and dead arriving at a hospital in Gaza City, she did not realize it would be the last time.

While she was on assignment, Israel ordered the evacuation of residents from northern Gaza, and her family joined hundreds thousands of Palestinians flee south. Ms. Khoudary, 28, stayed to document the war but was unable to return home after her neighborhood was bombed.

Ms. Khoudary has lived through four of the five wars between Israel and Hamas over the past 16 years. This time she became homeless – without enough clothes.

Reporting on the increasing number of victims consumed her, but after a week of walking over smoky rubble and bloody floors, she couldn’t ignore the smell of her socks. She was relieved when another journalist gave her a new one.

“I felt like he was giving me an iPhone or a MacBook – something I would want for Christmas,” she said.

Ms. Khoudary, a freelance reporter for Anadolu Agency, a Turkish news service, has simultaneously been targeted by Hamas and scrutinized in the past for reports about Israel.

She reports in fluent English and is often one of the few female reporters documenting the scenes of the attacks endless scenes of destruction.

“There is no front or back line in Gaza,” she said. “It’s all the front line.”

“We’ve all gone numb and we’ve all been given ‘alligator skin’ – is it an air raid? Oh, okay, an airstrike,” she said. “We have no more comments.”

Ms. Khoudary describes what once stood on the site where rubble now lies: a salon, a children’s playground, a wedding hall. She shares videos of her life during wartime: empty shelves, funerals, families seeking shelter.

Ms Khoudary and her team live on dates to avoid contaminated food and sleep in an office where she collapses on her backpack. Since Israel imposed a “full siege,” water has become scarce.

‘I’m officially dehydrated’ she wrote on the social media platform X on November 4.

Ms Khoudary remains separated from her family: her husband, mother, three brothers and a five-year-old nephew. But she is determined to keep her followers informed.

“People want to listen. People want to read,” she said. “Now I feel a great responsibility.”

Ms Khoudary has been in the spotlight before.

In 2019Hamas detained her and accused her of espionage for speaking to protesters arrested during demonstrations against the rising cost of living.

The following year, she appeared in The New York Times for a Facebook post in which she chastised Palestinian activists for befriending Israelis over Zoom and tagged Hamas officials. Critics accused her of endangering the lives of activists. She deleted the post, denied support for Hamas and reminded critics that she had been jailed by them.

But she doubled down on her political stance: normalizing with the enemy was a “sin,” she said on Facebook.

Now Ms. Khoudary has become prominent for documenting the uncertainties she and others face in a brutal war.

On November 3, as she stood outside a hospital, an explosion rocked the densely populated area. Videos showed at least a half-dozen bodies lying in pools of blood and children screaming. The Israeli military said it targeted an ambulance “used by a Hamas terror cell,” a claim that could not be independently verified.

“Physically I am perfect. But psychologically speaking, I am not,” she said by phone, her voice cracking.

Ms. Khoudary and Mr. Azaiza have lost many friends in this war, including the photojournalist Roshdi Sarrajwho was murdered at home on October 22.

The families of their colleagues have not been spared either. The head of Al Jazeera Arabic’s Gaza bureau, Wael al-Dahdouh, lost his wife, son, daughter and grandson in an attack. After a strike in their home, Mohammed Alaloula cameraman for Anadolu, wept over the bodies of his four children, four siblings and three nephews.

Ms. Khoudary cannot imagine how she and her colleagues will cope with the personal magnitude of this war once they put down their phones and cameras.

“We are speechless and numb,” she said. “We think our souls are disabled.”

NOOR HARAZEEN
@noor.harazeen