The Gaza Strip, already battered by years of siege and warfare, had once again become a battleground as Israel unleashed an 11-day military offensive. 

This was not the first time El Sayed had faced such peril; over the years, she had become an unwavering witness to the cycles of bloodshed that defined life in Gaza.

Two and a half years later, on 8 October last year, El Sayed found herself in a familiar situation. She reported in real time, live on air, as an Israeli missile targeted the tower behind her — a building symbolic of media freedom, home to numerous media institutions Al Jazeera colleague Wael Dahdouh— in retaliation for a Hamas attack the previous day.

As the tower crumbled, El Sayed was no longer just an observer of the destruction; she was a survivor, living through the very story she was reporting. 

This time, however, the scale of devastation was far greater. The death toll mounted, and with it, the weight of the stories she had to tell.

Among those stories was that of 11-year-old Ashfaaq, who emerged from an ambulance in Khan Younis, his face bruised. 

Clutching a blue backpack tightly against his chest, he approached El Sayed and said: “Do you know what I have here?” 

Inside the bloodstained bag was his little brother, Ahmed — a grim reminder of the human cost of war.

For El Sayed, these were not just stories, they were personal battles. 

As a mother of four young children, with her eldest just 13, she found herself in an agonising position. The struggle between her duty as a journalist and her instinct to protect her family weighed heavily on her, tugging at her with every live broadcast she delivered. 

The war wasn’t just something she reported on — it was something she and her family endured daily.

The trauma reached breaking point just four days after her Al Jazeera colleague Wael Dahdouh lost his family in an Israeli airstrike.  

El Sayed’s own home was targeted. Her husband received an anonymous phone call: “You’re speaking to the IDF (Israel Defence Forces). You need to take your family and leave your home right now. Otherwise, your life will be in danger.” 

The specificity of the call made it clear — they were targeting her family because of her work as a journalist.

“The moment I heard my 12-year-old scream at me, ‘We’re going to die because of you!’ I felt my world crumble,” she recalls, her voice thick with emotion. “To be in that position as a mother, when all you want to do is protect your children …”

After three months of relentless daily reporting, the situation became unbearable. 

El Sayed and her family were forced to flee Gaza, leaving behind everything they knew, in search of safety. 

They escaped under the cover of sniper bullets and shelling, with the journalist carrying the heavy burden of choosing between her profession and her responsibility as a mother.

In the months that followed, El Sayed found herself in Cairo, grappling with survivor guilt. 

“Why did I survive? Why was I able to come out?” she questioned. 

The only solace she found was in continuing to speak about Gaza from the outside. It was this drive that brought her to Johannesburg, where she addressed a gathering of journalists during her tour of Southern Africa.

Hosted by the humanitarian journalism portal Salaamedia, El Sayed’s message was clear — the media had failed the people of Gaza.

“We have reached a time when the global media has become very professional in exposing everything and anything that happens in any part of the world. Yet, the media’s integrity is compromised when it becomes politicised, when it follows agendas instead of standing as an authority for justice, for the people, regardless of all governments,” she said.

“In Gaza, this failure was palpable. The media failed us. They failed to amplify the voices of the people of Gaza, to connect them to other people in the world. 

“The popular support we see now among people in different areas of the world has come after many months of suffering, after many lives have been lost. 

“People are now searching for voices from inside Gaza — voices that can give evidence of the crimes against humanity being committed.”

For El Sayed, telling a story is no longer enough. 

“Your role as a journalist, as a voice, is to amplify,” she said. “It’s not just about speaking to decision-makers and government officials. 

“It’s about connecting people who endure daily sufferings with others around the world. If government officials don’t care, then the people of the world should support those who are suffering.”

Her journey from Gaza to Johannesburg is not just the story of a journalist but of a mother who bore the weight of her children’s lives on her shoulders while carrying the responsibility of telling the world about the atrocities in her homeland. 

“I had to make the choice between my profession, my career and my responsibility as a mother,” she reflected.

Now, as El Sayed advocates for her country from outside its borders, she remains steadfast in her belief that the role of journalists is not just to report but to bear witness, to give a voice to the voiceless and challenge the forces that seek to silence them.

Her advice to young journalists who fear for their future is simple yet profound: “Always remember that the people in the story are more important than any organisation or institution you work under.”

In a world where the lines between truth and propaganda are increasingly blurred, El Sayed stands as a testament to the courage and conviction it takes to tell the stories that matter, even when the cost is personal. 

Her journey is a powerful reminder of the moral and ethical role of journalists in times of genocide — when bearing witness is not just a profession, but a duty to humanity.