Saleh al-Jafarawi. This is the name that inspired me to start this entire blog series.

Since late 2023, every single time I opened social media, I would see his name. Over and over again, it was either a video of him recording another live atrocity, a post about him being threatened by the occupation, or footage of him documenting the reality on the ground. He became a source everyone trusted. If Saleh said it, then without a doubt, it was true.

So on October 12^th, 2025, the videos of him celebrating among the people had not even become old news when everything shattered. That night, I opened the app and a video of a lifeless body appeared on my screen. My heart dropped instantly because I recognized that face. That face, to me, completely depicted resilience, bravery, and humanity. His name was everywhere again, but this time, it was with a video of his body in a press vest. I remember the absolute shock. I had never met this person, yet it felt like losing someone who had become family. That’s the connection he managed to form with his viewers.

He was shot while he was covering the clashes in Gaza that took place despite the supposed ceasefire. A ceasefire had been announced, but the killings never stopped.

Every single day since 2023, I logged in with a constant, quiet fear for the safety of these journalists. Day after day, there would be targeted assassinations, and I would grieve them one by one. I had hoped that a ceasefire would finally mean he was safe but it was nothing more than an illusion.

When the ceasefire was announced, people celebrated around him, carrying him on their shoulders as they paraded happily through the streets. To lose him only a few days after that feels like a cruel, twisted joke (a sickening realization that even a declaration of peace was a threat to them). It is the exact same, devastating scenario we saw with Anas Al-Sharif, his close friend who was targeted after celebrating one of the ceasefires and killed just days later.

Saleh was just a 27-year-old from Gaza who was documenting his reality. He studied at the Islamic University of Gaza, and he was also a Hafiz (someone who has completely memorized the Holy Quran). 

Saleh posted videos that were raw and unfiltered. Despite the fact that he only spoke in Arabic, the message he delivered transcended language. It was one that even the heart could understand. His presence in the media was not just simple documentation, he was actively choosing to use the power of his voice, and willingly bearing the responsibility and danger that comes with speaking the truth. Through all of his vlogs and videos filming life under the siege, he revealed that out of anyone in this world, Palestinians truly live each day as if there is no tomorrow. Because for them, tomorrow has never been guaranteed.

The connections he formed with those he filmed were undeniable. Saleh didn’t just point a lens at people, he made them feel heard, understood, and seen. Most of all, he was physically there to support them in whatever way they needed, whether it was clearing rubble or comforting a child.

He had always spoken out against the genocide, but his voice reached a bigger audience in late 2023. He captured the minute-by-minute changes that took place in Gaza during those dark days to show the raw reality of what the people around him were experiencing (their paralyzing fear, their unbreakable resilience, and their absolute determination to keep going among the chaos.)

Whatever he captured, he was living through himself. It was almost as if a camera was simply following him through this ongoing catastrophe. Wherever a voice was desperately needed, he went, making sure no one on earth could ever look away and say it didn’t happen. Each of his videos and posts serves as an indisputable witness statement.

He proved that telling the truth in an era where freedom of speech is costly is nothing short of revolutionary. If I begin to speak about the depth of his bravery, I fear I will not be able to end this blog. He was mocked, dehumanized, and threatened multiple times by the regime through terrifying phone calls, targeted smear campaigns on social media, and being placed on hit lists. Yet, he kept going, not because he was fearless, but because he knew the cost of silence was far too high. Saleh admitted in his will, writing:

“Honestly, I lived in fear for every second… I was living life second to second, not knowing what the next second would bring.”

He taught us that witnessing the overlooked, hidden, and dangerous truth means facing fear first hand, yet choosing to be brave enough to voice it anyway, even when you know the world’s most powerful entities will be against you.

His life has made me so much more intentional with my own writing. I now often have to ask myself: What am I willing to risk to tell the stories that matter? Through him, I realized that demanding the world to look closer, and making others see, is resistance. Boycotting is resistance. Educating is resistance. He taught that resist through whatever means you have, because silence is simply not an option.

Saleh Al-Jafarawi was the voice we lost. We might not hear from him anymore, but he has left behind enough words and truth for decades to witness. Every now and then, despite Instagram removing his account, I still come across a video of him beautifully reciting a verse from the Holy Quran, and I instantly feel an overwhelming mixture of grief, comfort, and a renewed fire to speak up. (His words and videos are still available everywhere, you can’t erase a voice that impactful)

Please pause and read and absorb his final words.

🕊️The Last Will and Testament of Journalist Saleh Al-Jafarawi

“In the Name of God, the Most Compassionate, the Most Merciful.Praise be to God, Lord of all creation, who says: “Do not think of those who are killed in the way of God as dead. No, they are alive, receiving provision from their Lord.”

I am Saleh.

I leave this testament not as a farewell, but as a continuation of the path I chose with utter conviction.

God is my witness that I have poured all my strength and effort into being a support and a voice for my people. I have lived through pain and oppression in every detail, tasted agony, and mourned the loss of loved ones again and again. Yet, not for a day did I hesitate to convey the truth as it is. This truth will stand as a testament against every person who faltered or remained silent, and as an honor to every person who gave their support and stood with the most dignified, cherished, and noble of all people—the people of Gaza.

If I am martyred, know that I am not gone. I am in Paradise now, with my comrades who went before me; with Anas, Ismail, and all the beloved souls who were true to the covenant they made with God.

I charge you to remember me in your prayers and to continue the journey after me. Remember me through acts of enduring charity. Remember me each time you hear the call to prayer, or each time you see the light piercing the night sky of Gaza.

I entrust to you the resistance, the path we have walked and the principle in which we believed. We knew no other way for ourselves, and we found no meaning in life except in holding fast to it.

I entrust to you my father, the love of my heart and my role model. I saw myself in him, and he saw himself in me. You who stood by me through the war and all it brought—I pray to God that we meet in the Gardens of Paradise, with you being pleased with me, O crown upon my head.

I entrust to you my brother, my teacher, and my companion, Naji. O Naji… I have reached God before you were released from prison. Know that this was a destiny God has written, and that a deep longing for you fills me. I wished I could see you, hold you, and meet you again. But God’s promise is true, and our reunion in Paradise is nearer than you imagine.

I entrust to you my mother. O mother, life without you is a void. You were the constant prayer, the wish that never died. I prayed that God would heal you and give you strength, and I dreamed of seeing you travel for treatment and return with a smile.

I entrust to you my brothers and sisters. My goal was the pleasure of God, and then your own. I ask God to grant you joy and to make your lives as beautiful as your tender hearts, for which I always tried to be a source of happiness.

I always used to say: Do not let the word fall, and do not let the image fall. The word is a sacred trust, and the image is a message. Carry them to the world, just as we did.

Do not think my martyrdom is the end. It is, rather, the beginning of a long journey toward freedom. I am the bearer of a message I wanted to reach the world—a world with its eyes shut, a world silent in the face of truth. If you hear the news of my passing, do not weep for me. I have longed for this moment and asked God to grant it to me. Praise be to God, who chose me for what I loved.

And to all who have wronged me in my life with insults, lies, or slander, I say to you: I am now departing to God as a martyr, God willing, and it is before God that all adversaries will be brought together.

I entrust Palestine to you… and the Al-Aqsa Mosque. My greatest wish was to reach its courtyard, to pray within it, to touch its soil. If I could not reach it in this life, then I ask God to gather us all there in the Gardens of Eternity.

O God, accept me among the martyrs. Forgive my past and future sins, and make my blood a light that illuminates the path to freedom for my people and my family. Forgive me for any shortcomings, and pray for mercy and forgiveness for me. I have held fast to the covenant; I have not changed, nor have I wavered. Peace be upon you, and God’s mercy and blessings.

Your brother, martyr by God’s will,

Saleh Amer Fouad Al-Jafrawi

12/10/2025”

Penned By:

Rtr. Rana Rilwan

Editor 25.26