The Soul of Gaza: Animals Amid War
by Diana Hulet
Photography by Mahmoud Abu Hamda
In a place where survival itself is nearly impossible, the bond between humans and animals reveals a deeper kind of resilience.
A story in collaboration with We Animals, whose global investigations and stories expose our complex relationships with animals, create ethical and cultural shifts in society, and empower human capacity for compassion and change.
A Brief Respite
Rouh races across the sand and seashells while her human companion stands nearby, both soaking in moments of serenity offered by the Mediterranean Sea.
Once a tiny, flea-infested puppy found wandering through a refugee camp, Rouh is now older, stronger, more vibrant—running freely near Sa’ed, the son of Sulala Animal Rescue’s founder, Saeed Al Err. Rouh and Sa’ed’s bond is unmistakable: a quiet love emerging through the tragedy of war.
Rouh means “soul” in Arabic, and soul is the one thing Palestinians still hold onto. She represents more than a single rescued dog; she embodies the spirit of survival, care, and companionship. In Gaza, the soul—rouh—lives not only in its people, but in the animals they refuse to abandon.
While individuals and governments debate what to call the war on Gaza, animals are dying. While we turn away from the horror—overwhelmed, our nervous systems unequipped to hold such devastation—animals, people, and entire ecosystems perish under Israel’s relentless assault.
But on this day, Sa’ed is simply watching Rouh run down the beach. For a moment, there is levity. There is hope.
Centering the Animals
The suffering of animals deepens the grief of the people in Gaza. They cannot look away—and yet, they cannot always help. The war on Gaza is not only a war on its people; it is a war on every living being who once knew a different Palestine. A war on dogs and donkeys, cats and camels, birds, trees, soil, air—on life itself.
What would it mean to center the animals? To account for their illnesses, their injuries, the loads they carry, their thirst and hunger, their fear?
One of the most moving aspects of Sulala’s work is that, while others may consider some animals more important than others, there is no hierarchy at Sulala’s clinics and medical points. A donkey is not more or less important than a dog. An injured puppy and an overworked horse are equally deserving of compassion and care. That simple ethos—an animal in need is an animal in need—is a testament to Sulala’s commitment to helping as many animals as possible.
During the 42-day ceasefire that began January 19th, 2025, one aid truck from Animals Australia—held at the border for months—finally made it through. It was a cause for celebration. The Sulala team, who had been feeding animals with beans and other canned items, were able to provide people’s companion and working animals with more nutritious food. To the staff and volunteers, it felt like a miracle.
But when the ceasefire ended, the toll—both physical and psychological—on people and animals grew heavier. Conditions worsened: food prices skyrocketed, and the needs of both animals and humans became more dire. Sulala gives whatever they can—education for children, veterinary and medical care, food, clean water. While the infrastructure of Gaza collapses, they create refuge. They have become sanctuary.
Saeed Al-Err, founder of Sulala Animal Rescue, speaks to the psychological toll of war on animals:
“When it comes to the animals, they are scared when they hear an airplane. Whenever a plane flies over, they run and try to hide. When there are bombs, they are even more frightened—even those with us in the house. The cats in the shelter—the chalet—when outside and hearing a plane, run inside. Both cats and dogs… Not all like being inside; some prefer to play and run outside. But when there’s a plane, they run to the doors or windows, and we let them in.”
Saeed continues, “Many animals are injured—often lightly. You can tell they were exposed to bombing but didn’t sustain wounds or fractures. Sometimes you see signs of explosions on their skin and fur, like ashes.”
A Widening Circle of Compassion
Compassion often begins in the places closest to our hearts—sometimes with animals, sometimes with people. For Gazan photojournalist Mahmoud Abu Hamda, it begins with the people, their suffering, and the monumental losses and challenges they face every day. However, it is possible for our circle of compassion to widen, even in a place of total devastation.
Through photographing the animals at Sulala’s clinic and interviewing two refugees with their beloved donkey, Mahmoud’s eyes and heart opened to include the animals and how they, too, face unbearable suffering, and sometimes, death. His work reveals the interconnectedness of all life.
Perhaps this is the essence of compassion itself – to accompany one another in despair and difficulty, no matter where, or who, they are.
For Mahmoud, witnessing these animals profoundly shifted his view:
“My perspective has changed significantly, especially toward animals. I’ve come to see that animals—particularly those used for transportation, like horses and donkeys—hold great importance. They are not merely means of transportation; they are souls who deserve care and attention.”
In Gaza, the suffering of animals is often invisible—overshadowed by the sheer scale of human loss and destruction. Yet animals endure the same horrors: bombing, displacement, hunger, and disease.
Two Brothers and A Donkey
Younis Al-Tallaa and his brother, Mahmoud, were forced to flee their home in Al-Maghazi refugee camp after an Israeli airstrike destroyed the house next door—leveling theirs in the process. Amid the rubble and uncertainty, they took what they could carry. But they did not leave behind their most loyal companion, whom the brothers named, The Donkey.
“My pet is the donkey,” Younis said. “I share a strong bond with it — it is more than just an animal. I fear for its safety during the war due to bombings and sudden explosions, as well as the lack of available food, harsh weather conditions, and the rough roads it must travel on, which may affect its health and endurance.”
Their donkey has been both a lifeline and a companion.
Younis continues, “During one of our displacements, when we loaded our belongings onto the donkey’s cart and embarked on a long journey, fleeing from the threat of death, I looked into my brother’s eyes and said, ‘If the donkey were not with us, our situation would have been much worse.’ Its presence alongside us was like that of a true friend in the midst of crisis and severe hardship, bearing a heavy burden on our behalf. In the days leading up to that moment, I was constantly gripped by fear and a lack of safety for several reasons: first, the war itself, and secondly, my deep concern for the donkey, who means a great deal to me.”
With fuel unavailable and roads turned to rubble, donkeys have become essential. “People rely on them now, more than ever,” photojournalist Mahmoud Abu Hamda explained.
The brothers’ entire family agrees on the donkey’s value–not just for their labor, but for their life. “All the members of my family agreed on the importance of taking extreme care of the donkey for several reasons. First, because it is a living creature that carries a spirit like any other being, and secondly, because it is one of the vital means of survival during displacement; we rely on it to carry our belongings and necessities when moving from one place to another.”
Younis recounted a moment that deepened his sense of responsibility:
“Once, during a bombing in one of the camps that resulted in the deaths of many people, I came across a dead donkey lying by the roadside. At that moment, I felt an extraordinary shock and wondered if the same fate could befall my donkey. This incident only strengthened my determination to protect it at all costs, as it represents a spirit and an integral part of who I am—a symbol of resilience and defiance against the harsh reality.”
But survival has not come easily. “I recall many occasions when I had to buy only a small amount of food for myself to save money, so that I could also afford food for the donkey, enabling us all to survive and remain healthy,” Younis said.
Photojournalist Mahmoud Abu Hamda stresses the indispensable role of working animals in Gaza:
“Caring for donkeys, in particular, is extremely important, as they’ve played a crucial and challenging role under harsh conditions, assisting people to safely evacuate and move during war and chaos. Therefore, we must appreciate these animals by providing them with the necessary food, water, medical care, and protection from abuse, honoring what they’ve offered us in the hardest times.”
With the lack of food, water, and medical support, life in Gaza has become nearly intolerable. Yet, amidst devastation, Mahmoud holds hope—that the bombing and killing will stop, that safety will return, and that people and animals alike will have the chance to live with dignity again.
What the Future Holds
Not every story echoes the same level of compassion we witness with Younis, his brother and their donkey.
Reports of animal abuse are widespread. While hard to hear, in areas overwhelmed by destruction and violence, the effects of trauma and psychological distress can lead both children and adults to harm animals. The stress of families always on the move with their belongings directly affects donkeys, who are already overworked, carrying and pulling very heavy loads.
Still, Sulala and the people of Gaza do what they can. A small chalet shelters displaced cats. Puppies with parvovirus begin to recover. A dog struck by an ambulance is healing from their injuries. The cases that Sulala’s team sees at the medical points echo the effects of war on bodies: wounds from drone attacks, burns from bombings, and gastrointestinal issues from malnutrition and stress.
Donations continue to come in through PayPal and a newly created Chuffed account. They help tremendously, both financially and mentally for Sulala’s team on the ground. Yet the physical and emotional costs of war close in from all sides — on people and animals alike.
Still, some things endure: the bond between them, the instinct to protect each other, and the will to survive another day in Gaza.