A graveyard of stones

Thousands of people walk along a beach

Hundreds of thousands of Palestinians return along the sea to their homes and neighbourhoods in northern Gaza. 

Ali Hamad APA images

On the roof of a cart piled high with children and luggage, Issam Abu Maher, 39, stared at the long road ahead of him.

Abu Maher was heading back to see his hometown of Khuzaa, east of Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, from where he had been forced to leave, along with all Khuzaa’s residents, in December 2023.

Everyone on board the vehicle on 20 January seemed happy that their displacement was over, and the road to Khuzaa was crowded.

But as soon as Abu Maher’s vehicle arrived in the town, joy turned into shock.

The devastation was beyond imagination. Streets had been bulldozed, homes had been completely destroyed, and piles of rubble were everywhere.

Abu Maher stood in the middle of the rubble that was once his home, picking up a handful of dirt between his fingers as if trying to restore the memory of the place.

“I thought we were returning to our homes, but we returned to a graveyard of stones. No walls or doors, just rubble and the memories buried beneath it,” Abu Maher told The Electronic Intifada.

Still, determined to stay in their hometown, Abu Maher, like other residents of the town, pitched his tent in front of the ruins of his old home.

“If I am destined to live in a tent, let it be on top of the rubble of my home, here in my neighborhood and among my neighbors.”

He is anxious, he said. He has no idea when reconstruction might begin or if it even will.

“I fear that the wait for reconstruction will be long, that we will remain under tents forever, that these ruins will become our new home.”

Between hope and terror

On 19 January, a ceasefire agreement between Hamas and Israel came into effect, after a 15-month Israeli genocidal war on the Gaza Strip.

The agreement, which was mediated by Qatar, Egypt and the United States, included provisions for a prisoner exchange as well as the withdrawal of Israeli troops from residential areas, allowing people to return to their neighborhoods after months, and in many cases more than a year, of forced displacement.

Dalia Abed Rabbo, 38, stood in front of her tent in a Deir al-Balah displacement camp watching her three children play for the first time in months without the sound of shelling interrupting their shouting.

The children had lost their father, Abed Rabbo’s husband, Basil, in May 2024, when an Israeli missile struck the house in which they had taken refuge in Deir al-Balah after being displaced from Gaza City in January.

“Death was chasing us every day,” Abed Rabbo told The Electronic Intifada, explaining her relief at watching her children play safely. “I would sleep next to my children, afraid to open my eyes and find one of them gone. Their father was gone, and I could not bear another loss.”

When the ceasefire was announced, she said, Abed Rabbo felt a sense of relief she had not experienced since the beginning of the genocide. But this feeling is mixed with deep anxiety. Statements from the Israeli government suggesting that Israel is prepared to launch its aggression again if the second phase of the exchange deal fails, have left her stuck somewhere between hope and terror.

“Why can’t this be the last calm? Why should we remain hostages to threats? If the bombing returns, where will we run? We have nothing left to lose but our lives,” said Abed Rabbo.

She looked at her children drawing shapes in the sand, imagining a safer future for them. But she knows that peace in Gaza is fragile.

“I just want to raise my children without worrying about them every day. I want to live, not wait for a postponed death.”

Starting over

In the al-Rimal neighborhood in the center of Gaza City, Omar al-Salmi, 34, stood on the roof of the building he had been displaced to, looking at a city whose features had completely changed.

Before the war, al-Salmi had put together a tech start-up with a team of ambitious young people. His life revolved around work meetings, coding and attempts to ensure the success of his business.

Today, nothing remains. A missile destroyed his company’s offices, and his team was scattered among the displaced. Some managed to leave the Gaza Strip completely. Others are just struggling to survive along with everyone else.

When al-Salmi heard the ceasefire announcement, he could not contain his joy. He went out into the street and felt that life had returned despite the destruction around him.

“The important thing is that death has stopped, that we sleep without saying goodbye to each other as if it were our last night.”

Al-Salmi is preparing to reclaim his life. One of his first instincts was to open the old WhatsApp group, he told The Electronic Intifada. He wrote to the team: “The war is over, it’s time to rebuild. Who’s with me?”

Minutes later, he was inundated with responses: “With you.” “We’re starting over.” “We won’t give up.”

Al-Salmi said he had smiled for the first time in months. Death is the only thing that can’t be fixed, he said. As for work, there’s always a way back.

Rasha Abou Jalal is a journalist in Gaza.

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