On January 29, 2024, Hind Rajab’s voice reached us for the last time. Fragile, terrified, innocent. The first time I heard her speak, something inside me changed. I could not go on with my daily life as my conscience felt heavy. Her voice has confronted our collective failure to respond to her heart-shattering supplications. We were listening. We were powerless to act.
We had, yet again, heard Gaza urging for help. If you are ever in doubt about the nature of Israel’s criminal onslaught against Gaza, just remember this little girl. Hind Rajab, a five-year-old Palestinian girl, was murdered in Gaza after being trapped for hours in a car with her deceased relatives. This was a brutal act of genocidal violence by the Israeli Defence Forces. For hours on end, Hind only hung on to the cell as her sole lifeline. She spoke to her family and rescue dispatchers, who tried to comfort her during the wait for an ambulance, an exchange that was recorded and later heard around the world. At one point, Hind told the operator that it was getting dark and that she was so very scared. Hind was attempting to flee Gaza City with her uncle, aunt and three cousins when their vehicle was fired upon by an Israeli tank in Tel al-Hawa.
Hind remained the sole survivor for hours, calling the PRCS and pleading, “Please, come take me,” while stating she was being viciously attacked. Hearing their daughter trapped, begging for their help, is a kind of pain that no parent should experience. The inhumanity of this calculated act reverberated globally, showing Israel’s systematic and indiscriminate targeting of civilians in Gaza. Hind Rajab was born on May 3, 2018, after years of her parents’ infertility, years of their praying, years of their believing that God had closed a door that would never open.
When Hind’s mother finally became pregnant, she felt like she was carrying hope itself. Hind’s birth was difficult; she almost did not survive, but when they placed her tiny body in her mother’s arms, she whispered a prayer that became a promise between them: “God, let her scent stay with me. When life shatters me, let Hind’s scent be what helps me keep going.” Palestine Red Crescent Society workers were also on the phone with Hind at their base.
They knew exactly where she was. Before Hind’s mother lost contact with her, an ambulance was minutes away. Minutes. Here is what we know: Hind died alone, pleading for someone to come get her. No one could.
Life in Gaza is not like anywhere else. Children there have not known what other children in other countries might call an ordinary life.
This was a young child calling on us adults to protect her amid the appeal of Palestine to be saved from genocide, and on both counts, the world has failed. The ambulance had tried to get permission from Israeli authorities to rescue her earlier, but it took about three hours to receive the green light. When the ambulance was finally dispatched and got close to Hind, it was fired on, and the two paramedics on board, Yousef Al-Zeino and Ahmed Al-Madhoun, were killed. Nearly two weeks later, Hind was found dead in the car. Israeli forces said the ambulance did not need their permission and that they had not been in the area. However, multiple investigations determined that they were present and likely killed Hind and her other family members.
Life in Gaza is not like anywhere else. Children there have not known what other children in other countries might call an ordinary life. They have only ever lived on the brink of displacement or death. Hind’s family had been through constant Israeli bombardment during the war. They had run for their lives more times than they could count. On January 29, they had to flee, yet again.
After Hind got into a car with six family members, the car was shot at 355 times. Everyone in the car except Hind was killed. Similar to thousands of children who were slain before and after her, Hind’s tragedy gives a clear image of the highly intentional, collective punishment that Israel has been inflicting on civilians, especially children, as well as the deliberate targeting of healthcare workers. No child deserves to die like Hind did. We remember Hind as more than a victim of Israel’s genocidal campaign; she is a symbol of resistance, a child whose life and story demand justice.
Her voice has become a symbol of the thousands of Palestinian children killed, maimed, or orphaned amid Israel’s ongoing military assault on Gaza. This Israeli campaign, which the International Court of Justice has found plausible, involves constitutional acts of genocide and has been described by UN human rights experts as involving genocidal intent. Hind’s legacy is to break the cycle of Israeli impunity, and the pursuit of justice and accountability for Israeli soldiers who committed war crimes and human rights violations against Palestinians.
Two years on since the murder of Hind Rajab, the world has failed to stop Israel’s targeting of civilians, children and healthcare workers. The international community has failed to let the outcry over the case of Hind be followed up by meaningful international actions against Israel in the form of sanctions, boycott or severed relations with Israel and its partners. A documentary titled “The Voice of Hind Rajab”, directed by Kaouther Ben Hania, has garnered significant attention, including a 23-minute standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival and a 2026 Oscar nomination.
The film, which uses the real audio of Hind’s pleas, highlights the urgent need for accountability. If Israel’s conduct in its war on Gaza was understood for what it is, an abomination perpetrated by a murderous regime, powerful figures would fear consequences. Those who cheered it on would fear being permanently branded as monsters. Those who stayed silent, empty platitudes and handwringing aside, would fear accountability. So, if you are ever in doubt about what this really is, think back to the final, terrified moments of Hind Rajab, the five-year-old girl with an adorable smile. My hope is that we do not have to hear more stories like this. We must unite as humans and say ‘never again.’
The writer is a seasoned professional and a columnist. She can be reached at tbjs.cancer.1954 @gmail.com