“Nothing replaces the loss of a son, not even another son.” Those are the haunting words of Safia Abo Zour, a Palestinian woman whose four-year-old died in a 2011 airstrike in Gaza. In a portrait by photojournalist Eman Mohammed (Watch her TED Talk: The courage to tell a hidden story), Zour has one hand wrapped around her five-month-old; in her other hand, she holds the sweater that her older son wore the last time he went to kindergarten.
“Pain has no nation. That should be enough to stop future manmade disasters. It’s not nature. It’s not global warming. It’s us.”
Mohammed’s current work focuses on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. It’s never especially chipper, but her newest project, iWar, is particularly grim. The collection, Mohammed’s first set of portraits, forces you to confront the Gaza wars through the eyes of the survivors, away from the carnage, in deliberate black-and-white interiors, stark and quiet. Each photo features a person who lost someone in the wars, posed with an abandoned relic to show their absence. In a way, the domesticity of everyday life is more unnerving than the violence.
iWar is a work in progress, to be completed in summer 2015. Mohammed, a TED Fellow, will next turn her focus to survivors of the September 11th attack in New York, and then to Holocaust survivors. Though these may be unexpected subjects for a Palestinian Muslim, says Mohammed, she believes pain makes for the strongest connection between people. She says, “Pain has no nation. The violence keeps going in a circle. That should be enough to stop future manmade disasters. It’s not nature. It’s not global warming. It’s us.”
“‘I saw blood on the floor but I could only hear a big whistling sound. I saw my daughter-in-law and couldn’t recognize her face. She died while I was looking into her eyes trying to know who she was…’
Shahd Abo Zour, three, and her younger brother Mohammed Abo Zour, one and a half, sitting with their grandmother, Um Haitham, next to their mother’s favorite blouse. Sahar Abo Zour, 20, was killed during the second war in Gaza in 2011, when an airstrike targeted her family’s house in the Al Zaitoun neighborhood. Mohammed was three months old when his mother was killed. She was bleeding heavily after getting injured from a previous airstrike in the same neighborhood and lost her life in the second strike while she was holding her newborn baby.” — Eman Mohammed
“‘Nothing replaces the loss of a son, not even another son.’
Safia Abo Zour, 25, holds her five-month-old baby, Mohammed, with one hand and holds with the other the sweater her older son, also named Mohammed, wore the last time he went to kindergarten. Mohammed had just turned four years old when he was killed during the second war in Gaza in 2011 after an airstrike on his family’s house in the Al Zaitoun neigborhood. Safia named her new baby after his brother.” — Eman Mohammed
“‘Samar went to the kitchen to make us tea. She never came back. I’m still waiting for her.’
Saadi Abo Zour, 28, with his son Ehab and daughter Rawan with their mother’s abaya in the background. Saadi’s wife, Samar, 20, was killed in an air strike on her house in the Al Zaitoun neighborhood. Samar suffered a severe head injury before a second air strike hit the family’s house again. Her body was found on the doorstep of the neighbors.” — Eman Mohammed
“‘Amputating both of my legs only made my way to achieve my dreams harder and full of obstacles, but it didn’t end it. Amputating my heart would, not my legs.’
Faiz Moemen, a Palestinian photographer and visual artist sitting next to a wheelchair with his two cameras by him. Moemen lost both of his legs on Eid Al Adha evening, during an airstrike on his neighborhood. Moemen went to Saudi Arabia to seek treatment in the hopes of getting artificial limbs, but the critical condition of the amputation didn’t qualify him at the time. He continues to work as a photojournalist in his wheelchair.” — Eman Mohammed
“Islam Qreqe, 14 months old, sitting on a burnt motorcycle, where three of her family members were killed by a rocket fired from an Israeli aircraft drone. Islam’s father, Moataz Qreqe, was riding the motorcycle with his two-year-old son and his brother Munther when it was hit by an Israeli rocket during an airstrike at Jamal Abdul Nassesr Street in Gaza City. The bodies were completely scorched. Four months later, Islam was born and named after her two-year-old brother.” — Eman Mohammed
“‘When you lose your child, you are no longer a mother. You become a broken-hearted woman till infinity. Nothing more, much less.’
Entesar Hamouda, 43, sitting next to her son’s photo and the jacket he last wore before getting killed at the age of two during the first war on Gaza in January 2009. For 20 years Entesar’s attempts to have a baby failed. After she had her third miscarriage, she decided it was time to give up and let go of her dream of motherhood. Two months later she found out she was pregnant with a baby boy. Feras was born in 2006 and killed 25 days after his second birthday.” — Eman Mohammed
