As war on Gaza lulls, the search for thousands of missing begins

In Nasser hospital’s courtyard in Khan Younis, southern Gaza, the smell of death persists as mothers cry under the October sun. Some sit on cold ground with faded photos; others watch a screen of the dead bodies Israel handed over after months in military refrigerators.

The scene is one of unbearable contradiction: relief and horror, hope and despair. For the mothers of Gaza’s missing, every image brings them closer to an answer, and yet further into the nightmare of knowing.

“I have not left my house since the war ended, but when I heard that Israel delivered another batch of bodies, I came here immediately,” Umm Alaa al-Masri, a 60-year-old woman from Khan Younis, told The New Arab.

Her voice trembles as she wipes away her tears. “Since my son Alaa disappeared in December 2023, I have not heard a word. They said he might be arrested, but none confirmed this, while others said he might be killed, but also none confirmed this.”

So, she says, “today, I came to see if he was among the dead. Imagine reaching a point where a mother prays to find her son’s body just to end the waiting.”

Nearby, Umm Ehab al-Ashi clutched a faded photo of her missing son, Ehab, and waited as screens displayed images of bodies Israel had returned.

When the trucks arrived carrying white bags, she whispered, “Oh God, don’t let me recognise him here.”

Then she saw a shirt like his, same colour, same thin stripes, and her heart froze. The face was burned, unrecognisable, but a silver ring engraved with the letter Ehab confirmed what she dreaded.

“It’s him,” she cried before collapsing, repeating his last words: “Don’t cry, mother, I’ll be back.” Later, she whispered, “I told myself he might be a prisoner or alive. But nothing prepares you for seeing your son burned and bound.”

A woman who lost three sons hugged her, “At least you found him.”

In Gaza, even finding the dead no longer brings peace, but rather a continuation of grief.

Endless nights

According to Gaza’s Government Media Office, more than 7,000 Palestinians have been missing since Israel began its genocidal war two years ago.

Many are believed to be buried under the rubble that still covers large parts of the Strip. Others, human rights groups say, may still be detained in Israeli prisons under secret conditions.

Among them are hundreds who were killed during arrest or military operations, then taken to Israel without documentation or acknowledgement.

“Israel treats the missing as a security issue, not humanitarian, using them as bargaining chips in negotiations with Hamas. Behind every statistic, a mother is waiting for news and a father refusing to believe his son has disappeared,” according to Khaled Hamdan, a Gaza-based human rights researcher.

“The tragedy is that families face two impossible realities—their son is either dead without a proper burial or alive and tortured in prison. Both are unbearable,” he told TNA.

Bodies without names

Since the ceasefire took effect on 10 October, Israel has handed over 150 bodies to Gaza, according to the Palestinian Ministry of Health. Most arrive handcuffed, blindfolded, and without identification.

“The bodies arrive frozen, sometimes charred or disfigured. We have no DNA testing equipment because of the blockade, so we depend on physical signs, clothes, scars, or jewellery,” Ahmed Dhair, director of forensic medicine at Nasser Medical Complex.

His team of just sixteen works under immense pressure. “Each body represents a waiting family. We try to restore dignity to the dead, even when they come to us in pieces,” he told TNA.

Due to decomposition and mutilation, only partial images can be displayed: a hand, a tattoo, a tooth. “Some show signs of close-range gunfire. Others bear the marks of torture. It’s difficult to describe, but these bodies tell stories of cruelty,” he added.

For many mothers, the return of bodies is not the end of their suffering, but another beginning.

“The war hasn’t ended. We’re living another war, a psychological one. The occupation wants us to remain suspended between hope and despair,” Umm Ramzi al-Qishawi, whose son was killed when their home in Khan Younis was bombed, told TNA.

“You raise your son, you dream of his future, and in the end, you search for him among white plastic bags. What kind of justice is this?” he said.

According to the al-Dameer Association for Human Rights, Israel provides no information about Palestinians arrested during ground operations or in border areas, a violation of international humanitarian law.

“Enforced disappearance has become systematic. Many young men were arrested in the field and vanished. Months later, bodies are returned without explanation — no record of when or how they died,” Alaa Eskafi, the association’s director.

He calls it an “official policy of deterrence.”

“The Israeli state uses death as a message. Even in death, Palestinians are denied dignity—their bodies withheld, their mothers deprived of the right to bury them properly.”

At Nasser Medical Complex, the task of identifying the dead falls to Mahmoud al-Araj, who oversees documentation. “The bodies arrive with numbers, not names,” he says. “We record everything—wounds, clothes, scars—to create a temporary identity until families can confirm.”

But the process is fragile. “The refrigerators are full, and decomposition starts within hours,” al-Araj explains. “We have to bury some temporarily in special cemeteries, hoping we can reopen the graves once identification is possible.”

Politics of death

Each time Israel transfers a new batch of bodies, a painful debate resurfaces in Gaza—what families call the ‘policy of prolonged humiliation.’

“We are not only looking for our children’s bodies. We are looking for the truth—how they died, when, and who is responsible. The occupation wants to bury that truth with them,” Eman Shatat, whose son went missing during an Israeli incursion, told TNA.

Legal experts echo her words. “Withholding bodies and preventing families from burying their loved ones is a violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention,” Gaza-based lawyer Saed Jabr, an expert in international law, told TNA.  

“It’s part of a wider strategy of control, from prison to grave. The body becomes a political weapon, and the mother becomes a hostage to waiting,” he said.

For Gaza’s families, that waiting never ends. Each new delivery of bodies reopens old wounds, and each unclaimed corpse is a reminder of the thousands who remain unaccounted for somewhere between Israeli captivity and Israeli-imposed death.