In Gaza, Israel-Hamas war has left behind trauma, ruin

“On October 7, we woke up to the sound of rockets. The sound was terrible, the situation was terrible, and we started watching the news and learned what happened,” Warda Younis told DW via text message from northern Gaza.
“From that day on, the deepest fear began and never left.” 
Since last year’s Hamas attacks on southern Israel, nothing has been the same for residents of the Gaza Strip. Until then, Israel and Egypt had tightly controlled the enclave’s borders. But in the early hours of October 7, Hamas-led militants launched a barrage of rockets and breached the border fences, rampaging through communities and military bases in southern Israel.
Around 1,200 people died in the attack, and militants took 250 hostages to Gaza. The Israeli military retaliated the same day, firing heavy air and artillery strikes across the entire Palestinian enclave.
“I lost my best friend on the third day of the war. Her house was completely bombed out, and I remember being so shocked. It was mentally exhausting,” said Younis, who lived on the seventh floor of an apartment building in Sheikh Radwan, a neighborhood in northern Gaza City.
Gaza is familiar with conflict — Israel and Hamas have fought four previous wars since 2007, when Hamas seized power from the Palestinian Authority. Still, many did not expect the war to last so long or be so devastating.
According to Gaza’s Health Ministry, which doesn’t distinguish between civilians and combatants, more than 41,400 people have been killed in the enclave in the last year. Another 96,000 have been injured, and at least 10,000 are reported missing.
Supplies in the enclave quickly ran out in the first weeks of the war as Israel instituted a complete siege. For months, the United Nations said aid agencies warned of looming famine in northern Gaza, a claim Israeli authorities have denied.
Younis said she couldn’t find any flour or bread during that time. “We reached the stage where we ate tree leaves and grass. We never imagined in our lives that this could be eaten,” she said.
When the first aid convoys reached the north, she witnessed violence and death as people scrambled for food and help. For a time, international aid agencies restored airdrops as international pressure failed to convince Israel to open more crossings for aid deliveries.
“I used to go to where aid was dropped from balloons every day,” said Younis. “I would run to get something and, in the end, didn’t get anything because there were thugs controlling everything.”
She said food availability has since improved, but her fear and daily exposure to death remain.
In the past 12 months, Younis and her three teenage children have been displaced nine times. She, like many others in Gaza, has lost track of time while constantly searching for refuge.
In mid-October 2023, Israel’s military ordered people in northern Gaza to flee to the south. However, Younis decided to stay put despite having family members to accommodate her and her children in Khan Younis, a city about 8 kilometers (5 miles) from Gaza’s border with Egypt.
Northern Gaza has now become almost completely cut off from the Netzarim corridor, a road with Israeli-manned military checkpoints. Most of the enclave’s 2.2 million people are now displaced, crammed into southern Gaza, and many depend on aid and charities, aid agencies have said.
Amjad Shawa has always worked in the humanitarian sector as the head of PNGO, an umbrella group representing Palestinian NGOs. After being displaced, he set up a new office in Deir al-Balah, a town in central Gaza, as a hub for aid agencies to meet, use the internet and a roof under which to work. Like many other Palestinians in Gaza, he didn’t want to leave his home and office in Gaza City when evacuation orders from the Israeli military came on October 13.
“I hesitated to leave, but we left under the pressure of my family,” Shawa told DW. “I was telling them it’s only for a few hours, and we’ll be back. I didn’t take anything from the house, believing we would be back soon. These few hours, few days became a year now.”
He estimates that around 1 million people are sheltering in Deir al-Balah, many living in tents or makeshift shelters made of tarpaulins and plastic. Others have found apartments or are staying with relatives.
“I can see it in their faces,” said Shawa. “Most people are deeply traumatized. They have lost everything. Many have lost loved ones. Most have lost their income, their homes.”
He said many want to return to northern Gaza, even if their homes are gone, but that depends on a cease-fire agreement between Israel and Hamas.
Being an aid worker in Gaza is risky, said Shawa. Many have died trying to help others, or lost loved ones like many around them.
“We cannot ‘cope’ with this. And in the absence of any horizon, sometimes you have to create some hope for those around you,” he said.
For him, the Gaza where he was born and raised is gone. More than 60% of Gaza’s homes, already damaged in previous wars, have been reported damaged in the current conflict. Schools, hospitals and businesses also lie in ruins. The United Nations estimates that Israeli airstrikes and ground fighting have produced 40 million tons of rubble across Gaza.
While Gaza can be rebuilt and “the day after is very important,” Shawa said, what’s most crucial is the present and “to keep ourselves alive.”
The aid worker added that many have lost faith in help from the international community. “What we are witnessing is also because of the failure of the international community to end this war or, at least, protect civilians.”
Rita Abu Sido and her family did not have this protection. The first months of the war remain a blur for the 27-year-old. Now, she’s in Egypt with her sister, Farah, where they are both receiving medical treatment for complex injuries they sustained in Gaza. They are the only survivors of their immediate family.
“The bombing happened at midnight on October 31. I was awake and told my sister Farah that we might die. She remembers everything. I only dream about it,” Rita told DW by phone from Cairo.
Abu Sido’s mother, her two younger sisters, aged 16 and 15, and her little brother, 13, were killed that night in Rimal, a neighborhood in the center of Gaza City. She and her sister, a trainee flight attendant who was visiting Gaza when the war broke out, were taken to Gaza’s main Shifa hospital without identification.
Abu Sido said she suffered a pulmonary convulsion and third-degree burns, and her sister suffered a broken pelvis and injuries to her spine. As the fighting approached, and because of the severity of their injuries, both were transferred to the European Hospital in Khan Younis.
“My psychological state was bad after I learned about the loss of my entire family. It took time to understand my surroundings and situation. I was aggressive and nervous,” she said.
With the help of family friends, the sisters were able to leave Gaza through the Rafah crossing in February for medical treatment and rehabilitation in Egypt. Abu Sido is regaining her voice, which she lost for some time, and her sister is undergoing physical therapy. However, she said the trauma of losing her family will haunt her for the rest of her life.
While they are safe in Egypt, their situation is precarious. Most Gazans who have been able to leave for Egypt don’t have legal status and rely on the support of relatives or charities.
Whether Abu Sido will ever be able to return to Gaza remains unclear, a political decision she cannot control. “Returning to Gaza seems like a challenge. It will take time,” she said. “The next generation, our generation, must have the will to rebuild.”
Edited by: Davis VanOpdorp