NYN | News
Time stood still at a tragic, unforgettable moment in the city of Khan Younis, in southern Gaza.
The heart of a baby named Yahya Al-Najjar stopped beating—he hadn’t yet reached his third month of life.
He didn’t die because a bomb fell on his crib, nor because a bullet pierced his chest.
He died because his fragile little body had nothing to nourish it, as a result of the tight Israeli blockade on Gaza.
He died of hunger.
When Milk Becomes a Distant Wish
His mother held him in her arms, trying to soothe his cries—cries that did not sound like those of an ordinary baby.
It was a faint, broken sound… then it went silent forever.
There was no formula milk in Yahya’s home. No medicine. No doctor.
There was no electricity to power an incubator, no clean water to prepare a bottle, and no suitable food for a mother who had lost the ability to breastfeed due to the blockade that has spread malnutrition among both children and adults.
In Gaza today, children do not die only in airstrikes—they die in their mothers’ arms, in deadly silence, under a siege that grows more brutal by the hour.
A Crime Without Sirens
There were no warning sirens before Yahya’s death.
His name was never listed as a military target.
He didn’t fight, didn’t chant, knew nothing of politics or occupation.
He never saw war—he was simply born in a scorched land, at the wrong time, under a sky that never ceases to roar with Israeli warplanes… and in a world that has abandoned its own principles.
With Yahya’s death, the masks fell. Principles were crushed.
Where is international law?
Where are the conventions on children’s rights?
Where is the “global conscience” that fills podiums with hollow humanitarian speeches?
Gaza Reveals the Age of Decline
The tragedy of Gaza today is not summed up in the scale of destruction or the number of martyrs.
It lies in the internal collapse of humanity itself.
Every day, another Yahya dies in a different way: from hunger, thirst, cold, terror, or confusion while standing at his father’s grave.
It seems international law and the United Nations Charter were buried in Gaza—on their shared grave it should be written:
“Justice died when Yahya died.”
The Hypocritical World
The same world that waves the flags of human rights and dignity is the one that funds Israeli bombings, justifies them, or turns a blind eye.
They say, “We regret the loss of life…”
But Yahya didn’t need regret.
He needed a single drop of milk.
Is there any explanation for the world’s silence in the face of such a crime?
What meaning does “human rights” hold if it cannot prevent the death of a starving infant?
And is there any justice for a killer who uses weapons, siege, and starvation—right before the eyes of the world?
Yahya Al-Najjar… a tiny name in a fragile body, but one that exposed the shame of the world.
