Fahim Zaydan, who was twelve years old at the time, recalled how he saw his family murdered in front of his eyes: They took us out one after the other; shot an old man and when one of his daughters cried, she was shot too. Then they called my brother Muhammad, and shot him in front us, and when my mother yelled, bending over him – carrying my little sister Hudra in her hands, still breastfeeding her – they shot her too.
