When darkness envelops northern Gaza, the already bleak landscape of ruined buildings becomes an intimidating shadowy labyrinth. Living among the remnants of their former home, Rawia Tambora finds herself using flashlights and phone lights to soothe her children, who are scared without the comfort of electricity that long faded. Their fear is only kept at bay as long as they have enough battery life.
For over a year, Tambora and her family were displaced by the ongoing conflict. Now they have returned home, although their existence feels incomplete without essential utilities and the means to clear the lingering debris. Their living conditions remain harsh, lacking water, electricity, and basic services.
UN data shows almost 600,000 Palestinians returned to northern Gaza following a recent ceasefire. Initially, the return brought a sense of relief, but the bleak reality of life amidst destruction has settled in. The ceasefire, now nearing its six-week mark, presents uncertainty as its end approaches, introducing fear of potential renewed hostilities.
The task of reconstructing Gaza is monumental, with a World Bank, UN, and EU report estimating the need for a $53 billion investment. Entire neighborhoods have been reduced to ruins due to relentless assaults. Commencing this massive rebuilding effort lacks both resources and necessary funding.
The priority remains ensuring basic livability within the region. Earlier, Hamas resisted further hostage negotiations until more temporary housing was permitted entry, although advancements followed with Israel allowing mobile homes and machinery. Humanitarian organizations intensively work to supply food, water, and temporary shelter to hundreds of thousands suffering in Gaza.
Amidst these challenges, controversial suggestions arose, like one from President Donald Trump proposing the relocation of Gaza’s population to facilitate redevelopment managed by the U.S., an idea firmly rejected by Palestinians who seek tools to rebuild autonomously.
Gaza City’s municipality is attempting basic repairs, such as fixing water lines and clearing streets of debris, but is hindered by limited operational equipment. Current estimates depict an overwhelming 50 million tons of rubble, a removal task expected to take 15 years with full-capacity resources, according to the UN.
Residents like Tambora, whose home in Beit Lahiya was leveled by airstrikes, face the daily struggle of survival. She and her family, after staying in the Indonesian Hospital during conflict operations, now live in their damaged home’s only usable room, sharing limited resources. Her young son must laboriously collect water regularly.
Efforts to sustain basic needs include using firewood for cooking and depending on market aid for food, despite high prices. Meanwhile, Tambora endures a lengthy commute to her new work location, the now operational Kamal Adwan Hospital, which provides a rare opportunity to charge their phones.
Other families, like Asmaa Dwaima’s, unable to return to their demolished homes, resort to renting apartments. Revisiting sites of former residences becomes emotionally overwhelming, reminding them of lost warmth and stability.
The depth of destruction only amplifies their loss, shattering identities and shrinking the hope of rebuilding lives amidst severe shortages of construction materials and vital equipment.
The pervasive desperation observed by UNICEF representatives underscores significant human challenges and the grieving about their past lifestyles, complicating efforts to regain normalcy.
Even those in slightly improved circumstances, like Huda Skaik, a student now at her grandparents’ home, confront many obstacles. The family appreciates shelter from elements, moving from a tent camp scenario, but struggle with basic education due to fluctuating power and internet access, affecting Skaik’s online studies.
With massive destruction still surrounding them, maintaining an optimistic outlook is testing; yet, there’s a collective effort to find and rebuild hope in these trying times.
