The Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza stands as a stark testament to resilience amidst devastation. A young boy’s voice rises above the rubble, calling out, “Coffee, coffee!” as he navigates through the remnants of homes and buildings, balancing a tray of steaming drinks. His small act of enterprise is a beacon of hope in a landscape marred by destruction. Nearby, a makeshift kebab shop has been set up, and a teenager sits in a barber’s stall, getting a haircut. These scenes of daily life, however fragile, suggest that even in the face of overwhelming loss, there is an instinct to rebuild and carry on. Tables piled high with fresh vegetables dot the grey, rubble-strewn streets, offering a glimmer of normalcy. Yet, the backdrop of devastation is ever-present, a reminder of the war that has ravaged this region.
Amidst the ruins, life goes on, but the conditions are dire. Abu Samir, a man who lived in his home for 50 years, points to the rubble that once was his house. “I have so many blankets under that rubble,” he says, his voice heavy with loss. “I have a couch, the best mattresses, thick mattresses.” These material possessions, now buried under the debris, represent a life interrupted. Abu Samir’s struggles are not just about the loss of belongings but about the loss of dignity. He confesses, “I have not washed for 40 days. My body can’t cope in this weather. For someone my age, I shouldn’t be living like this. What about my dignity?” The harsh realities of displacement are stark, and the lack of basic necessities like clean water and shelter exacerbates the suffering.
People in Jabalia are doing their best to survive, but the challenges are immense. Fires burn among the ruins, providing both warmth and a means to cook food. Bulldozers work to clear rubble, attempting to create passable roads, though the recent rains have turned the ground muddy and treacherous. The nights are bitter, and for many, home is now a tent—flimsy protection against the cold and the elements. Ola Nasser, a 57-year-old woman, has constructed a makeshift roof under a sagging concrete slab. Though the structure looks precarious, she has made it her home, finding some degree of safety behind concrete walls. She can light a fire inside, a small comfort in a desperate situation. For Ola, this patch of land is more than just a place to live; it is a symbol of her roots. “We were born in Beit Hanoun, in Gaza,” she says. “There’s no way we will leave Gaza unless it’s on a stretcher. Martyrs and dead people.” Her defiance reflects a broader sentiment among Palestinians: this is their land, and they will not leave, even in the face of immense hardship.
Despite the resilience of the people, the situation in Gaza remains critical. Israel has increased the number of aid trucks passing through the Rafah crossing, allowing more food to reach the population. However, other essential supplies—shelter, fuel, and medical equipment—are still in short supply. Hamas has accused Israel of being slow to deliver these necessities, which has nearly derailed the ceasefire. The dire need for medical aid is particularly acute. At Al Shifa Hospital, one of the few functional healthcare facilities in Gaza, the situation is overwhelming. Dr. Mustafa Hanna, a physician at the hospital, describes the meager support they have received. “Very little aid has arrived since the ceasefire, relative to Gaza’s health sector’s needs,” he says. “We’re talking about a very small amount of medical aid meant to fulfill the enormous needs to treat the sick and wounded in the Gaza Strip, especially in the north.” The gap between the demand for care and the resources available is staggering.
The condition of other healthcare facilities is even more alarming. Kamal Adwan Hospital, located further north, lies in ruins. Scenes of devastation are stark: broken incubators in bombed-out maternity wards, shattered medical equipment, and debris-filled rooms. The Indonesian Hospital, where Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) operates, paints an equally grim picture. The organization reported being “utterly shocked” by the deliberate destruction of medical machines, which were smashed to pieces to prevent any further healthcare provision. These findings underscore the severity of the crisis and the deliberate targeting of infrastructure that sustains life. Gaza, as one observer put it, has become a “hellscape,” with every frame telling a story of destruction. Yet, amidst the ruins, there is a stubborn determination to survive and rebuild.
The people of Gaza embody a resilience that is both humbling and inspiring. Despite the unimaginable horrors they have endured, they continue to find ways to adapt and carry on. Ola Nasser’s resolve to stay on her land, Abu Samir’s determination to maintain his dignity, and the young coffee seller’s determination to make a living all highlight the strength of the human spirit. Gaza is more than just a war-torn region; it is home to generations of people who refuse to give up. As Ola puts it, “Our children will not forget. This is our land and the land of our grandparents. And our children will stay here whether they like it or not.” In the face of overwhelming odds, the people of Gaza remain steadfast, their resilience a testament to the enduring power of hope and the unyielding connection to their homeland.
