When the Israel-Hamas war broke out, Mansour Shouman found himself in the unique position of documenting what was happening to Palestinians on the ground.HO/The Canadian Press
On Oct. 7, 2023, Canadian-Palestinian Mansour Shouman – who holds an engineering degree from Queen’s University and an MBA from the University of Calgary – was working as a supply-chain management consultant in Gaza.
When the Israel-Hamas war broke out, Mr. Shouman found himself in the unique position of documenting what was happening to Palestinians on the ground. As a citizen journalist, his social-media posts have reached millions of English-speakers around the world. He has also aided humanitarian efforts in the region.
He went missing twice during the conflict. In March, he joined his wife and children in Doha, Qatar.
Mr. Shouman spoke to The Globe and Mail about what his life has been like amid the humanitarian crisis –and why he left.
First of all, where were you on Oct. 7 and what were you doing?
I was in Gaza. It was a seemingly normal day. My wife and I were preparing the children for school.
We had to evacuate our house within the first week. We went to Al-Shifa Hospital and then to Nasser Hospital. My family went to stay with relatives, and I decided to stay in Nasser Hospital to become a citizen journalist and speak to different media outlets in English about what was happening.
You began to share your videos online for people who wouldn’t otherwise have access to that information – especially the English-speaking world. Why was it important to you to get the Palestinian perspective out to the world, especially at the risk of your own safety?
It was crucial because not many people were taking on that role. They didn’t have the right connections, the technology, or the English-speaking skills and ability to talk to TV stations and other media outlets. Many also didn’t know how to use social-media properly. I just felt from a religious and humanitarian perspective it was extremely important that I do this job.
Last December, there was a missile attack during which you had to stop filming so that you could help remove people from the rubble. Several people were killed in that strike. Your personal feelings must get involved.
We get used to it, unfortunately. You see bombings, corpses and people under the rubble – you don’t have time to be sad or angry. You just have to mobilize to help in any way you can.
It’s come to the point where this is normal day-to-day life: You lose loved ones; you lose people you met not long before. You see children crying, those who have lost limbs, and elderly people who have no one left to care for them. People just go about their lives trying to survive.
There were two instances in which you were reported missing.
The first time we were setting up a civilian tent city on the western side of Khan Younis. At that time, the city didn’t have any Israeli forces. That particular morning in January, they made a 180-degree turn from the south part of the offensive. We didn’t have time to go back to Nasser Hospital safely so we had to make our way inside the city to the Khan Younis refugee camp where we remained for two weeks. We were not able to get access to technology or social media to connect with the outside world.
During that time, there were many close calls with missiles that were fired. There were a lot of special forces, drones and quadcopters – it was very frightening. Two weeks later, we were able to safely make our way back to the hospital.
The second time was in February when they attacked the Nasser Hospital directly. We didn’t expect that because we thought it was a safe zone. So we had to leave everything behind and go back into Khan Younis, and again, stay away for a couple of weeks.
That second time, your Canadian social-media team reported that witnesses said they saw you being taken into custody by the Israel Defence Forces.
I was surprised to learn that because it’s not true. I think they were worried because people saw pictures of someone who looked like me and they acted based on that. I wasn’t taken by the IDF.
Last November, you decided to stay in the Gaza Strip despite having sent your family to the United Arab Emirates. At that time, you felt it necessary to continue to document what was happening. What compelled you to leave Gaza in March?
I had lost my means of communicating with the outside world. When I returned to Nasser Hospital after it had been attacked, I saw that they had taken everything: my laptop, my clothes, my university certificate. The only thing I had on me was my wallet and my passport. I felt helpless. I felt that if I left Gaza, I would be able to get back on my feet and help people on the inside by restoring communication and connecting with the outside world through different media and the humanitarian work that we’re doing right now.
According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, more than 120 Palestinian journalists have been killed in Gaza since the conflict.
I knew the son of well-known Al Jazeera journalist Wael Dahdouh. The son was killed, along with other family members. We were neighbours in Nasser Hospital. I believe that Palestinian journalists and their families were targeted.
Also, journalists could only operate in small areas where we thought it was safe, but there was almost no access to the internet. We had to go on rooftops – and were exposed to snipers, quadcopters and drones –just to get a signal.
Why is it that Western reporters are unable to get inside the region right now?
Right now, the Israeli forces have taken over the Rafah border and I don’t think they’re allowing any reporters, even humanitarian aid workers, to come in from the south. I also believe that the north is a war zone so people aren’t allowed to come in.
I don’t know why they aren’t allowing Western reporters to go in, but the stories on the ground do need to be covered – especially neutral voices to get the voices out of the civilian population that is suffering.
Now, as you advocate for social justice in Gaza from Doha, even though you’re safe and with your family, do you wish you were still there to document first-hand what is happening?
I tell my family I wish I had stayed in Gaza. Even though I am trying to help from the outside, I have survivor’s guilt. I feel like, “Why did I leave?” I should be there with everyone. Now, I’m living a privileged life: I eat whatever I want. I have air conditioning. I feel a lot of guilt, honestly. If I had the chance to go back to Gaza, I would take it 110 per cent.
How has this past year changed you?
It’s made me realize how fragile life is. We’re talking about hundreds of thousands of people who had lives and stories; who had careers and weddings planned. Everything was taken away from them. It shows how quickly lives can change.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
Special to The Globe and Mail