Part of the Series
Struggle and Solidarity: Writing Toward Palestinian Liberation
The Israeli army has declared a temporary pause in its military operation “Gideon’s Chariots 2,” which had primarily focused on occupying Gaza City. This decision came after the Israeli political leadership recommended scaling down offensive operations and restricting them to defensive measures in an attempt to create a suitable atmosphere for negotiations — particularly following Hamas’s positive response to U.S. President Donald Trump’s proposal regarding Gaza.
In the past days, Israeli forces had expanded military operations in the city, encircling it completely from all sides and seizing control of entire neighborhoods in the heart of Gaza City, such as Sheikh Radwan, Sabra, and Tal al-Hawa. They relied on a scorched-earth policy, using intensive artillery, aerial, and naval bombardments, in addition to deploying old armored personnel carriers loaded with tons of explosives used to demolish entire residential neighborhoods and clear the way for ground forces.
The Israeli military operation displaced more than 600,000 of the city’s residents and carried out systematic destruction that Gaza City had not witnessed since October 2023.
Before the war began, Gaza City had always been the most vibrant and prosperous area in the Gaza Strip. Known as the beating heart of the Strip and an inseparable part of it, the city had long been celebrated for its picturesque streets, green gardens, and remarkable historical landmarks, as well as for hosting several universities and distinguished educational institutions.
The destruction of Gaza City and displacement of its residents once again is deliberate and highly calculated. Israel fully understands how precious Gaza City is to the Palestinian people and how much they have already suffered living without it during 16 months of forced displacement in the south.
Most of Gaza City’s residents are refugees who were forced to abandon their lands under the threat of massacres carried out by Zionist militias in 1948. Among them were my grandparents, displaced from the small village of Beit Daras, only 32 kilometers from Gaza City. For my grandparents and thousands of other refugees, Gaza City became the nearest refuge from the horrors they had experienced at the hands of the Zionist forces that attacked their villages. They thought they would remain in the city only for a short time and then be allowed to return to their homelands. However, days turned into years, and that glimmer of hope began to vanish. This pushed them to rebuild their lives in Gaza City, which they came to consider their second home.
Our grandparents’ love and attachment to Gaza City were passed down through generations to us. We loved it as if it were our original homeland — the place that holds our memories and everything we hold dear in life. We believed we would live happily in Gaza City forever, never imagining that the Israelis would displace us from it, just as they did to our grandparents in 1948.
Leaving the city for the second time and heading south — the area that Israeli forces claim to be “safe” — was an agonizing decision for Gazans. We knew all too well that remaining in the city was impossible, as Israeli forces were carrying out a systematic plan of gradual occupation and “cleansing” of Gaza City’s neighborhoods, killing anyone who refused to leave. At the same time, we also knew that life in tents — stripped of the most basic necessities and overshadowed by the uncertainty of whether we would ever return home — was simply another form of death.
Most Gazans believe that this displacement is the worst thing that has happened to them since the beginning of the war, as Israeli forces have used new and more aggressive methods to expel us — such as detonating explosives-laden robots in residential neighborhoods and using quadcopters to plant landmines on the roofs of homes to demolish them. Added to this are the heavy financial burdens we have never faced in any of our previous displacements: a single tent costs $1,000; renting a piece of land to set it up costs $200; hiring a truck to transport belongings can reach $1,000 due to soaring fuel prices and vehicle maintenance costs; and building a makeshift bathroom can cost $300.
The idea of paying such staggering amounts to leave your beloved home and live in a tent in exile reflects the depth of the oppression and pain we endure — as if our lives are meaningless, as if we are no longer seen as human beings with the right to live with dignity.
The despair we are living through keeps us clinging to the news, scanning for any headlines containing the word “ceasefire.” Trump’s plan to end the war in Gaza and the Hamas-Israel agreement have become the only things that help us endure the hell of life in tents in the south. We hope that this time the war will truly end forever, that our stay in the south will not last too long like the last time, and that we will be able to return to our homes and live normally — free from bombardment, starvation, and daily killing — like anyone else in the world deserves.
Solaf Saim, 44, who was forced to leave her home in Gaza City and now lives in a tent in Deir al-Balah, said, “Leaving my home was like taking my soul away from my body. I never imagined such a horrible scenario.” Saim mentioned that she and her children are eagerly waiting for the announcement of a possible ceasefire so they can return to Gaza City, even though their home may be destroyed. “Just end the war and return me to my neighborhood. If my home is destroyed, I will set up a tent over its rubble, and I will be happy just because I am in the place I belong, surrounded by neighbors. I cannot live in the south. I do not know anyone there. The area is overcrowded, my tent is full of flies and insects, and I cannot stay inside it because of the heat of the sun. I am dying slowly here.”
Shorok Akilah, 30, said she had been determined not to leave the city, unwilling to relive the horrific experience of spending 16 months in a small tent in Al-Mawasi, Khan Younis. However, she changed her mind: “The bombardment in my neighborhood intensified, and quadcopters began dropping bombs randomly near my home. Most of my neighbors had already fled south. My children were terrified and constantly crying. I could no longer endure it. I was forced to leave to protect my children — I couldn’t let them die.”
She continued, “Gaza City is part of my heart. I cannot imagine living without it. My only wish is to return and never leave again. I hope Trump’s plan will truly end the war because we are exhausted. This war has destroyed us in every way and taken us back to the days of the Nakba. Enough is enough.”
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