carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว
carmine zuigiber
1.4K posts

carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

Understand that Israel assassinated @AnasAlSharif0 after approving the plan to invade Gaza City.
They knew he would not leave the city and would cover the assault and killed him ahead of it. Let’s just be very clear here.
Younis Tirawi | يونس@ytirawi
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carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

ATTENTION: We have launched a $6,000 match campaign through @Workshops4Gaza @openpoetrybooks with the goal of sending $12,000 to @sameerproject, which is now operating in emergency mode. Donate now and your money goes twice as far. …n-books-a-poem-emporium.myshopify.com/collections/wo…
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carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

I’m still here. 620 days ago. When kids were being slaughtered, losing limbs, growing hungry and they begged us, in English, to let them live. I never moved on; I’m still here.
Prem Thakker@prem_thakker
Kids in Gaza hosting a press conference, in English, to beg the world for life. “We come now to shout and invite you to protect us; we want to live, we want peace…we want to live as the other children live.” Over 4200 kids, like these, have been killed.
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carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว
carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

Ambulance sirens are sounding simultaneously across the #Gaza Strip in a coordinated distress signal, highlighting the escalating famine and the collapse of the healthcare system.
(Source: IG: mohammed_fayq)
The world is about to witness the mass death of thousands due to an Israeli-induced famine. This catastrophe could be stopped immediately by the @UNRWA. The Israeli occupation has turned food into a lethal weapon against indigenous Palestinians.
#GazaGenocide
#GazaFamine
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carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว
carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

If you haven't seen this documentary yet please do so & share it with others. Not just Anas but several other journalists are also parents. Think about what it takes to see dismembered babies & beheaded children for over 14 months & still report putting your own babies at risk.

Amplifying Palestinian Voices@AMPVOC
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carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

We live in a culture where "now I realize I was wrong" gets you a platform, but being right the whole time gets you labeled as a radical and excluded from the conversation.
Christiane Amanpour@amanpour
In a new op-ed for @nytimes, professor of Holocaust and genocide studies @bartov_omer explains why he believes "Israel is committing genocide against the Palestinian people," something Israel denies: nytimes.com/2025/07/15/opi… Back in December, I spoke with Professor Bartov about how he reached this conclusion.
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carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

A ceasefire is not enough. The Israeli military’s weaponisation of aid and starvation to displace and destroy Palestinian society will not stop as long as Israel controls aid distribution. Our new analysis shows how Israel has imposed a deadly aid system through GHF ration stations, while dismantling a proven civilian-led model, in order to concentrate Palestinians in Rafah and push Gazan society toward collapse.
The genocide can continue even under a ceasefire.
View our full analysis: frames.forensic-architecture.org/gaza/aid

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carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว
carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว
carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว
carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

@TimothyS Definitely not a victory for the small businesses and workers whose financial welfare depends on customers and foot traffic.
Instead of failing backwards, they should focus on succeeding forward. Increase the damn supply of housing for locals, and keep welcoming tourists.
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carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว
carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว
carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

This morning, on my way to the clinic, though even calling it that feels absurd now, it is more graveyard than refuge; I saw a girl. She was sixteen, no older. She was thin, with the kind of tiredness around her eyes that children should never know. In her hands, she carried a pot, a blackened metal container, steaming faintly. Inside was a thin, soupy liquid. It was mostly water, with a few pale white beans floating like little wrecks in an ocean of absence.
Behind her, her father moved through the crowd with a soldier’s gaze. It was not the gaze of one trained for war, but of one forced to survive it. He was scanning faces, perhaps for danger, perhaps for hope, or perhaps for something in between.
The girl looked back once, then again. When she saw him turn away, she seized that brief moment of freedom. She dipped her fingers into the pot, scooped a few beans, and stuffed them into her mouth with the speed of guilt. Her eyes darted around as she chewed, terrified that he might see her, that he might scold her. Not because he was cruel, but because that pitiful soup was meant to feed not one child, but an entire family. Perhaps five. Perhaps ten. We no longer count mouths. Only spoons.
There was a kitchen once, a charity. They cooked for over a thousand families every day. They did it not for profit, and not for recognition, but because their souls could not do otherwise. That kitchen shut down three days ago. Not because people stopped being hungry, but because the shelves became empty. The rice, the oil, the flour — everything ran out.
And now the people go to the American aid centers.
Yes, of course. "Humanitarian corridors." What a beautiful phrase. How clean, how sterile, how bureaucratically elegant. It sounds like "collateral damage" or "operation." The Americans built them. The Israelis secured them. And forty people die at their gates every day.
Crushed. Shot. Starved. They come seeking bread and leave as corpses.
Everyone knows this. Absolutely everyone. And yet they still go.
Hunger will drive a man to walk toward his own execution if there is even a shadow of rice behind the gun.
Yesterday, my friend Al-Aloul went. He is not a fighter. He is a software engineer, a quiet man.
He came back stabbed, in the neck.
Six stitches. Blood soaked through his shirt.
But he smiled.
"I got the box," he said. "They did not take it."
What kind of world is this? What kind of man smiles through blood because he has a box of flour?
This is not the war of tanks and planes. Those have become irrelevant. This is the war of hunger, the war of slow death.
Mothers fast for days, not in spiritual devotion, but because their sons must eat first.
Children stand in line for aid, not knowing if they will return alive.
Girls eat in secret, and fathers carry shame heavier than bread.
This is genocide by exhaustion, by silence, by paperwork, and by averted eyes.
Do you want to know what the modern age has made of evil?
It has made it bureaucratic.
Digitised.
Professionalised.
A genocide in which the world debates definitions while children chew air.
The child who ate those beans is more real than your opinions.
My friend who smiled through blood has more dignity than your excuses.
Gaza is not a headline. It is a mirror.
And when you look at it, what you see is the measure of your own humanity.
You want God to speak?
Perhaps he already has.
He speaks through the silence of that girl.
Through the blood on that box.
Through the words I now write with shaking hands.
Gaza is not dying.
It is being crucified.
And we are the crowd at Golgotha.
Watching.
#GazaGenocide
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carmine zuigiber รีทวีตแล้ว

Inna Lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un
Our worst nightmare became a reality yesterday. Our dear, beloved Mosab was martyred. He was taken from us by the sick, evil occupier.
Mosab WAS The Sameer Project. He was our camp manager, ran all our South initiatives, a coordinator who would get the best prices, find goods, organize the biggest distributions, solved problems. Out of necessity to treat his injured son he founded TechMed, a technology driven mental and physical rehabilitation organization. He was a team leader. But this is only a fraction of who Mosab was to us….
He was our friend, our family. Mosab was the most honorable, honest, caring, fierce but gentle, strong but soft, intelligent, respectable man we have known. He absolutely adored his wife and his three children. He was their protector - he made us all feel safe. Mosab made working in a genocide feel doable, feel impactful, despite his own pain and struggles.
And he did this because he loved Gaza. Mosab loved his people, he would do anything at all to help. And help he did. Mosab saved lives. Every single day. When our camp was shot at last summer he carried children and the elderly to safety. He evacuated an entire camp within hours when it was under threat. He would source food and serve thousands that were hungry. He rushed the sick to the hospital. His tenderness and words of advice made all problems go away. And he saved us - Palestinians in the diaspora that didn’t know where to put our rage and sadness and desire to help. He was everything that we all aspire to be.
Mosab was too good for this cruel world. He was loved so much, he gave so much love, he was the best of us. Our team is devastated, there is a hole in our hearts.
But Mosab made it very clear to us, always, what his priority was - to support our people. We are hurt beyond belief and all we can do now is pray for his family and be there for them. But we will not stop. We can’t. We won’t and we will continue to serve Gaza, for Mosab, for all those who are suffering.
May Allah have mercy on him and grant his family strength.


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