In an emotional and heart-piercing piece, The Guardian highlights the tragic story of Palestinian nine-year-old Karam al-Ghussain, who was trying to bring water home to his forcibly displaced family when an Israeli missile struck the distribution point. His 10-year-old sister, Lulu, ran to help him carry the heavy jugs. Both were killed instantly. The brutal Israeli strike also took the lives of six other children and four adults, injuring 19 more, most of them minors.

"سآخذه معي للمنزل"... فلسطيني يعاتب طفله الشهيد لذهابه لتعبئة الماء من نقطة توزيع في النصيرات قبل ارتكاب الاحتلال مجزرة فيها.#تفاعل ليصلك كل جديد pic.twitter.com/KleTo0bVuu

— TRT عربي (@TRTArabi) July 13, 2025

The explosion was so violent that their small bodies were torn apart. Their mother, Heba, was not allowed to see them. “They didn’t let me say goodbye or even look at them one last time,” she told The Guardian, recalling how her brother tried to shield her from the horrific sight. “After that, I don’t remember anything. I lost touch with reality.”

Lulu’s real name was Lana. Her nickname, meaning “pearl", captured her gentleness. “She had such a joyful personality, and a heart full of kindness,” Heba said. Karam, mature beyond his years, was affectionately called “Abu Sharik”, “my partner”, by his father, Ashraf. He once asked for a remote-controlled car, but Heba told him they couldn’t afford luxuries. “I wish I had spent everything I had to buy it for him so he could have played with it before he died.”

Both children were dreaming of food. Lulu craved musakhan, the Palestinian dish of roasted chicken with onions and sumac. Karam had been hoping for shawarma. “They had all kinds of food plans for me to prepare,” Heba told The Guardian.

After nearly two years of relentless Israeli strikes and a total siege imposed since March, even water in Gaza has become a scarce and deadly pursuit. Heba had believed sending the children to fetch water was safer than looking for food. The station was just a few streets away from the school where they were sheltering, their home already destroyed by earlier airstrikes.

8 شهداء بينهم 6 أطفال و 16 مصابًا بعد استهداف الاحتلال نقطة توزيع مياه شمال غرب مخيم النصيرات. pic.twitter.com/MIEu0QxLYA

— Ultra Palestine - الترا فلسطين (@palestineultra) July 13, 2025

“Karam would wait patiently for hours,” Heba said. “Sometimes he’d come back empty-handed. When he did bring water—20 liters—it was a burden too heavy for a boy his age. But he never complained. Karam was only nine, and braver than dozens of grown men.”

That day, the line at the water station was short. Karam reached the front. When Lulu joined him to help, the missile hit.

“It was as if the missile was waiting for her to arrive,” Heba said.

'Their faces were disfigured'

Witness Ali Abu Zaid, who rushed to the site, described a scene of horror. “Each child was holding a water bucket, lying dead in place, covered in their own blood. The shrapnel had torn through their small bodies. Their faces were disfigured. The smell of gunpowder filled the air.”

10 شهـ.ـداء بينهم 6 أطفال ارتقوا في استـهـداف تجمع للمواطنين عند نقطة توزيع مياه في مخيم النصيرات وسط قطاع غزّة، وهم:

١- فؤاد سلامة نصار
٢- أحمد سليم أبو سلمية
٣- محمد محمود مسلم قرمان
٤- الطفل عبد الله ياسر أحمد
٥- الطفل بدر الدين قرمان pic.twitter.com/w490IbUuW2

— ق.ض (@Qadeyah1) July 13, 2025

Donkey carts transported the dead and wounded as ambulances struggled to reach the site. Even when they arrived, it was too late. “There was no saving anyone,” said Abu Zaid. “These were lifeless bodies, completely shattered.”

Ashraf had sprinted toward the water station after the explosion. He found their containers, dented, bloodied, and then found their bodies at the hospital. “When I saw them like that, it felt like my heart was being stabbed with knives,” he said. “I’m still in shock. I’m afraid every day that I’ll lose the rest of my family. I feel like I’m going insane.”

Heba, too, searched in panic, hoping they had returned to the shelter. The siblings had survived two previous airstrikes, one that leveled their home, another nearby. “They survived twice,” she said, “but not the third time.”

No one at the school had the courage to tell her. “The news was already spreading, but no one told me. No one dared.”

She was eventually sent to Al-Awda Hospital, where she saw her husband, standing next to the bodies of their children.

The Israeli military later claimed the strike was a “malfunction” during an "operation targeting a militant." But Ashraf rejected the explanation. “They have the most advanced technology. They know exactly where their missiles fall. How could this be a mistake? A ‘mistake’ that killed both of my children?”

'We sleep hungry and wake up hungry and thirsty too'

With no money for cemetery plots, the family buried Karam and Lulu beside Heba’s father. Their youngest daughter, 18-month-old Ghina, now suffers from malnutrition, skin infections, and dehydration, like thousands of children in Gaza, where water, food, and medicine have all but disappeared.

“We sleep hungry and wake up hungry. And thirsty too,” Heba said. “The desalination stations barely operate. The entire world sees this, yet they shut their eyes.”

The deaths of Karam and Lulu mark a grim turning point. More than 800 Palestinians have been killed near food distribution points since late May, mostly by tank and naval fire.

UNICEF warned last month that children in Gaza risk dying from thirst, as water systems collapse after months of bombardment. Water, like bread, has become a front line.

In Gaza, survival itself is an act of resistance, and often, a fatal one.