The Electronic Intifada 1 April 2025
Sanaa Saeed Abu Shaiba displays wedding dresses on 9 March as she reopens her bridal shop which was badly damaged in Israel’s attacks on the Jabaliya refugee camp.
APA imagesWhen I returned north in January after 470 days of Israeli military aggression, I was shocked by what I saw.
My return came about because of the fragile ceasefire that came into effect on 19 January and which Israel ended on 18 March.
That brief respite from Israel’s genocidal violence allowed tens of thousands of displaced people to return to their devastated neighborhoods in Gaza City.
Most of those returning to what remains of their former homes did so, as I did, on foot. Transport fees have skyrocketed with the scarcity of fuel, and people can pay hundreds of dollars for a short journey.
For many, the return has been bittersweet. Gaza City, once a bustling metropolis, is now in ruins, with more than 92 percent of its housing either damaged or destroyed.
Walking through the streets feels like being in a horror movie. This is not the city where I spent most of my life.
During the 15-month Israeli attack, many shop owners and traders relocated to the south, setting up new businesses in Deir al-Balah and Rafah to sustain their livelihoods.
I was one of them. And like many others, the ceasefire enticed us to return to what was once the economic heart of the Gaza Strip, determined to rebuild.
Yet, our struggles have only just begun. The high costs of transport, the destruction and soaring rents complicate efforts by traders, shopkeepers and others to get back on their feet.
And this is before Israel resumed its genocide.
A devastated market
I found my cosmetics store heavily damaged and completely empty. All my inventory had been stolen or destroyed.
Still, I decided to clean up and repair what I could to resume business in any way possible. But I instantly faced a major problem. My landlord doubled the rent when I returned on 28 January, demanding an amount I could never afford. I used to pay $4,000 yearly, and now he was asking for $8,000.
“There are no other available spaces,” he told me. “Either pay or vacate.”
He gave me a month to decide, knowing full well that there were people desperate enough to pay that high price.
I couldn’t afford it.
Muhammad Sharif, a clothing importer, was among the few business owners I saw whose warehouses survived the bombings. But they were located in Rafah, an area still under Israeli military control and now facing a looming ground operation.
Sharif had no way of accessing his warehouses or knowing whether they would even remain standing by the time the Israeli army withdrew.
Instead of waiting helplessly, Sharif scouted for a new place to open a store. Knowing that the market was starved for goods, he purchased every roll of fabric he could find in Gaza and struck a deal with a local sewing factory to produce clothing.
Within days, his operation was in full swing, making pajamas for women and underwear for children, trying to meet desperate demand and selling at higher prices due to the extreme shortages.
“I couldn’t afford to sit and wait while my business disappeared,” Sharif told The Electronic Intifada on 1 February. “In Gaza, you either adapt or you vanish. I had no access to my warehouses, but that didn’t mean I had to lose everything. People needed clothes, and I found a way to provide them. The war may have taken my store, but I refused to let it take my livelihood.”
Acting fast
Sharif’s plan wasn’t just about short-term survival. By securing his place in the market early, he hoped that his brand wouldn’t fade into obscurity while he waited for access to his original stockpile.
He demonstrated the pragmatism needed to stay afloat in a war-ravaged economy, one in which waiting for help often means losing everything.
Abdullah is a well-known importer of accessories and high-end clothing in Gaza, with multiple luxury stores in Jabaliya and the Shujaiya markets.
He did not want his full name published.
Airstrikes had flattened his stores, leaving behind only rubble and twisted metal. Unlike others who relocated to the south during the war, Abdullah chose to stay in northern Gaza, convinced that his stores were too important to abandon.
Rather than wait for international aid or the promise of reconstruction to be fulfilled, Abdullah himself cleared the wreckage where his shops once stood. He collected any salvageable material, including corrugated zinc panels, wooden planks and plastic sheets and built a makeshift storefront in the middle of the destruction.
“I don’t have the luxury of waiting,” he told The Electronic Intifada in early February. “People in Gaza still need clothes, and I still need to provide for my family. If I don’t reopen now, someone else will.”
His philosophy was simple: act fast.
He understood that the moment the ceasefire allowed more goods to enter Gaza, prices would drop and competition would increase. By reestablishing himself early, even in a half-destroyed shop, he believed his business wouldn’t be erased from Gaza’s economic map.
Starting anew again
Chef Wareef Hamido had moved to Gaza from Syria years ago, escaping the war that had engulfed his homeland.
With no legal documentation, leaving Gaza was not an option. So he built a life here, opening a successful restaurant in the al-Rimal neighborhood of Gaza City, specializing in Syrian cuisine with a version of chicken and beef shawarma that became very popular.
When the Israeli attacks on Gaza began, he fled south like many others, settling temporarily in Rafah. Hoping to sustain himself, he reestablished his restaurant in the middle of Gaza in a smaller iteration, serving whatever food was available.
But his new venture was doomed from the start. The Israeli blockade prevented the entry of poultry, beef and many essential ingredients, forcing him to shut down again.
Now back in Gaza City, he walked through what remains of his old restaurant Chef Wareef, running his fingers along the cracked tiles and shattered glass. The cost of repairs is staggering, he said, but he refuses to give up. With borrowed money and personal savings, he has begun the painstaking process of rebuilding.
“War has already taken everything from me twice – once in Syria, and now here,” he told The Electronic Intifada. “I won’t let it take my future too. I will do my best to rebuild and start from scratch again. I do love my job, Gaza and its people.”
With no way to leave and no aid in sight, Wareef said he has no choice but to gamble on his own resilience, hoping that by reopening his restaurant, he can reclaim at least some sense of stability.
Shojaa al-Safadi is a Palestinian writer and poet, a member of the Palestinian Writers Union, and a founder and director of the Friendship Cultural Forum from 2004 to 2014.
