A 70-year-old blew herself up in a Hamas attack. She may be just the first of many elderly recruits

In the centre of Beit Hanoun, there is nothing left of the 800-year-old mosque but the minaret. It looks like a lighthouse stranded in a sea of rubble. People whose homes were demolished during the latest Israeli army incursion sit on plastic chairs around bonfires. At night they bunk down with the neighbours. One of them is Watfa Kafarna.

'I saw the Israeli soldiers eye-to-eye,' she said. 'They took my four-year-old grandson, Mahadi, who has Down's syndrome. They shook him and yelled: "Where are the guns?" Now he is traumatised and wets the bed every night.'

Not his own bed - the Kafarna family is homeless, living off the charity of friends. Tears run from Watfa's eyes as she looks at her son, daughter-in-law and grandchild huddled around a brazier. Her husband, Diab, shuffles across the ruins towards his wife. 'Bossa!' he says, 'A kiss!' In a highly unconventional move, Diab kisses his wife on the mouth. 'She is my heart, my eyes, my light. We have lost our house but not each other.'

During the incursion, Israeli soldiers detained all men aged 16-40, including Watfa and Diab's sons and grandsons. The army targeted the mosque, attempting to arrest militants hiding there.

The women put up their own resistance, gathering as human shields around the mosque to help the militants escape. 'I am 72, says Watfa, 'but by doing this I felt 20, young and useful and ready to act.' She pulls off her long veil and holds it high in her right hand. 'I waved my hijab as a white flag and prayed with the other women in front of the holy mosque. But the Israelis continued to destroy it.'

Two women were killed by the Israeli Defence Force that day. Watfa was bruised, as was 70-year-old Fatma Najar, hit by a bulldozer. Three weeks later, Najar blew herself up near Israeli soldiers, wounding two. In Gaza she is seen as a heroine. 'If the Israelis came to my house to gun down my children and I had a belt, I would do the same,' says Watfa. 'The woman is the biggest loser here,' says Khola, a neighbour, standing on the remains of a kitchen where flour is mixed with pulverised masonry. Two hundred homes were destroyed in Beit Hanoun. 'Fatma Najar, an old woman, did what many people don't have the guts to do. If you go back and research Fatma,' says Khola, 'you will see her home was destroyed on top of her head, her sons jailed, her grandson killed.'

'We want to believe in peace, but how can we when the warplanes still fly over our heads every night,' asks Watfa, 'making our grandchildren cry and wet themselves? When there are still tank movements on the border? I can't believe there will be peace.'

Najar's family heard of her attack on the radio. 'We thought it must be another Fatma Najar,' said her son, Jihad, 35. 'It never occurred to us it could have been my mother. Then the crowds started to arrive and we knew it was true. We had mixed feelings, sadness at her irreplaceable loss. But pride too.'

There is a huge shaheed - 'martyr' - poster of Najar on her house. It is shocking to see an old woman carrying an M16. Some of her 70 grandchildren and great-grandchildren play beneath the picture. Israa, six, wears a pink top with 'Happy Childhood' embroidered on it. 'My grandmother's gone to heaven. Because she shot the Israelis,' she says.

The funeral tent is empty now, the three days of official mourning over. On the first evening, men from the Qassam Brigades, the military wing of Hamas, arrived. Her son Inam said: 'They told us: "Your mother has been asking to do this for two years. We said no. Finally she said, if you don't give me a belt I will go anyway and get killed and my blood will be on your hands. We gave in".'

Other old women now want to become suicide bombers. The family talks of why she did it. Perhaps it was her grandson's death. 'My son, Adil, was 18 when he was killed,' says Fathiya, 52, Najar's eldest daughter. 'He was throwing stones at the Israelis.' Then there was Fathiya's other son, Sha'aban. He attacked an Israeli soldier with a knife. He was shot 72 times, lost a leg and is paralysed. The family show a photo of Fatma, a sweet-faced woman in a white cotton scarf. Neighbours crowd in with stories of her generosity, how she gave sweets to local children, told stories, played.

Najar was a religious woman, involved with mosque committees and close to memorising the Koran. It was only after her death, her family discovered she had been working for Hamas: 'They told us she had carried food, water, ammunition to the resistance at the front line. We had no idea.'

The night before her suicide operation, Najar went to visit all of her children and grandchildren. She brought clothes and sweets. 'But she was always so good to us,' says Inam. 'As she left me for the last time, she looked back in a way that made me wonder, but then she was gone.'

'On the day she acted like it was a normal day. She baked the bread in the clay oven. She took a shower, put on a new dress and went out,' said Jihad.

'I think the final straw was the Beit Hanoun massacre [a family of 17 killed at dawn when Israeli shells hit their house]. Mother went to the family's home and asked the women: "Why leave it to your sons to die? If Allah allows, I will become a martyr." They said: "You think they will take an old lady like you?"'

A fortnight later she was a suicide bomber, injuring two Israelis, decapitating herself. This weekend Hamas held a ceremony in Beit Hanoun, in memory of the 140 Palestinians killed in November. Thousands attended, waving Hamas flags. The mayor, Dr Nazek el-Kafarna, made a speech in honour of Najar: 'This old lady looked at the houses destroyed and the trees uprooted. She looked at how our people had been humiliated. She took her soul in her hand and rushed to her martyrdom.'

Huda Haim, a Hamas PLC member, believes Najar's act begins a new culture. 'We know behind the Israeli leaders there are decision-makers studying the behaviour of the Palestinians. Fatma told them they can't end the Palestinian issue with violence.'

The audience was thronged with women, many elderly, many clinging to photographs of their dead. 'We all want to be like Fatma,' they shouted.

'I am happy about the ceasefire,' says Zaifa. 'But if the Israelis come back, they will see what we will do, we will be like Fatma Najar.'

'I know at least 20 of us who want to put on the belt,' said Fatma Naouk, 65. 'Now is the time of the women. Now the old women have found a use for themselves.'