Gaza – Sabah Al-Saqqa
With modest clothing replacing his elegant suit, and hurried steps chasing a drinking water truck instead of confident strides through courthouse corridors defending clients and seeking justice, this is the impact the war left on legal advisor Ghanem Al-Attar—a life that recently went viral on social media.
Al-Attar, whose voice once rose with arguments and softened when consoling the oppressed, was not just a legal advisor but also a respected academic. Yet the war changed him, as it changed all of Gaza, its people, streets, and alleys.
Born in the village of Al-‘Atatra north of Gaza, Al-Attar was released from Israeli prisons in 1993 carrying a dream called “education”. He pursued university studies, reaching the highest levels in law, opening a practice that trained lawyers, prosecutors, and judges, moving tirelessly between cases like one plowing the land in search of justice and support for the vulnerable.
He says, known to people as a man of principle before a man of law: “Whenever a case of an oppressed person reached me, and I confirmed their suffering, I wouldn’t take any fee until a verdict in their favor was achieved. Justice comes first, everything else follows.”
But war doesn’t knock politely—it breaks in. In an instant, everything collapsed. Al-Attar faced the destruction of his home, forced to leave his birthplace under bombardment and death, beginning a journey of displacement between Gaza, Deir al-Balah, and Rafah, finally settling in Khan Younis, carrying a suitcase of memories and unbearable grief.
Reflecting on the bitterness of displacement, he recounts: Immigration is extremely painful for a free person. I felt it as Prophet Muhammad did when he migrated from Mecca to Yathrib. Just as the Prophet was forced to leave under the harm of the disbelievers, I and many of my people were forced to migrate under the oppression and crimes of the occupation.”
Yet the displacement was not his deepest shock. On 25 May 2024, he received news that broke his heart: the death of his daughter and six grandchildren in an airstrike on displaced families’ tents in the al-Baraks area north of Rafah. Speaking of that moment, he says: “I thought I had lost everything, but nothing compares to losing my daughter and grandchildren.”
Famine That Stripped Status
After the resumption of war in March 2025, Gaza was ravaged not only by destruction but by systematic famine imposed by the Israeli occupation to an unprecedented degree.
He cites international law: “Article 55 of the Fourth Geneva Convention and Article 57 require the occupying power to provide protection, water, food, and medicine to civilians. But the occupation recognizes only the law of force.”
These were not mere legal articles to him but his cry to a silent world, listing the occupation’s violations: targeting unarmed civilians, destroying health and scientific infrastructure, bombing wells and desalination plants, cutting water lines, closing crossings, uprooting crops, and other crimes amounting to genocide.
All this brought a profound change to his life, stripping him of social stature and forcing him to meet basic needs in ways unbefitting his position: “I went from being a lawyer to running after a sip of water. I barely recognized myself.”
Running After Life
A week ago, a video captured Al-Attar running after a water truck. He hadn’t noticed it was being recorded and realized only a day after it was published. His reaction was not embarrassment but pride: “After what I was before the war, my main concern now is waiting for a water truck, running after it along with many others. But my goal wasn’t just to get a gallon for six families I care for—it was to fulfill my duty in educating people and organizing the community.”
Al-Attar volunteers to hold the water hose, organize the line, and guide people to respect each other: “My run in the video wasn’t just toward water—it was toward values I believe in. I was running for order, dignity, for what remains of our humanity.”
The Legacy of Water and the Memory of the Well
In a reflective moment, Al-Attar recalls a well his father dug decades ago to provide water to neighbors without charge: “The war destroyed the well, and my situation changed from providing water to dozens of families to running for a sip myself. I’ve gone from status to a condition I never knew.”
Despite this personal upheaval, his efforts to promote solidarity and preserve the social fabric have been met with respect and encouragement, especially from colleagues who admire his resilience: “My colleagues message me, expressing pride, urging me to continue. They say I haven’t changed—I’ve risen.”
In times of chaos, even the simple act of organizing a water line has become both a noble deed and a legal and humanitarian stance.
Al-Attar emphasizes that famine spared neither the educated nor the ignorant, neither rich nor poor, but affected all segments of society. Despite the collapse of health and education sectors, Palestinian resolve remains unbroken, concluding:
“We will rebuild everything. We will rebuild the people before the buildings, and we will reach a free and prosperous homeland, no matter how long the road.”
