Ahmed Kamel – Egypt Daily News
After months of relentless bombardment, tens of thousands of Palestinians have begun making the long journey north, back to the ruins of their homes in Gaza City and the surrounding neighborhoods, following the recent ceasefire that halted the fighting between Israel and Hamas.
For many, the return has been a devastating experience. What they once called home has vanished. Streets have been flattened, neighborhoods erased, and entire communities reduced to rubble. “It’s as if a nuclear bomb hit this place,” said one resident, echoing a sentiment shared by many who have begun to comprehend the full scale of the destruction.
According to sources, the northern coastal road has turned into a river of people, families walking with whatever belongings they managed to keep through multiple displacements. Most had been evacuated a month earlier as Israeli forces advanced into Gaza’s northern districts.
What awaited them now is a wasteland: vast stretches of land leveled to the ground, with only fragments of concrete and twisted metal marking where homes once stood. Families faced an agonizing choice, whether to stay amid the wreckage and try to salvage what little remains or return to crowded southern camps where food and water are still scarce. Uncertainty hangs over both paths, with many unsure how long the truce will hold or whether it might lead to lasting peace.
Life Among the Ruins
In Gaza City’s Sheikh Radwan neighborhood, some families have begun fashioning makeshift shelters from the ruins—stretching blankets and sheets between fractured concrete pillars, trying to create some semblance of privacy and stability.
Under the last remaining pillar of what was once her home, 50-year-old mother of seven Soheir Al-Absi sat in the afternoon sun, surrounded by the debris of her life.
“I was hoping to come back and find my house still standing,” she said quietly. “But what I found was the opposite. I couldn’t even recognize the neighborhood, everything is completely destroyed.”
The family had held out as long as possible while Israeli tanks approached in September. “We could see them from the window,” she recalled. Eventually, as the army advanced street by street, they fled south.
Before leaving, Al-Absi said she witnessed Israeli forces detonating homes one by one using remote-controlled armored vehicles loaded with explosives, machines she described as “robots of destruction.”
“When we returned, I couldn’t recognize anything,” she said. “All the houses had blended into one massive pile of debris. The destruction is beyond comprehension. When I saw what was left of my home, I just sat down and cried with my children. Everything we had forty years of memories, happy and sad was gone.”
Her house, she explained, cannot be rebuilt. “Not a single column is intact, not even the stones. It’s total annihilation.”
Still, she refuses to leave. “I will stay here,” she said. “A person only feels safe where they belong.” She plans to pitch a tent over the ruins, saying she has nowhere else to go and no family in the south. “Rebuilding this home would take a lifetime,” she added. “I might die before it’s ever complete. What matters now is how to survive and what kind of future my children will have. There is no clear future in Gaza. The whole place is just rubble.”
Memories Buried in the Debris
In the devastated Shujaiya neighborhood, 42-year-old Suzan Al-Shiyah faced a similar reality. “At first, I couldn’t even locate the house,” she said. “The streets were gone, the landmarks erased. The shock was overwhelming. I didn’t have the strength to dig through the rubble to find anything no keepsakes, no photos, nothing.”
Her family spent four days searching for a place to pitch their tent. “Right now, we just want rest,” she said. “We’re not thinking about the future it feels too uncertain. I still fear the war could return at any time. Israel always violates its agreements. I just pray for peace.”
“Born Here, and I’ll Die Here”
In Jabalia, in the north of Gaza, 60-year-old construction worker Hani Abdul Rabbo returned to check on his family’s four homes in the Al-Jurn district. None were left standing.
“I won’t lie, I suffered a stroke from the shock,” he said. “To see all four houses turned into piles of rubble, it’s unbelievable.”
Abdul Rabbo’s grief runs deeper than property loss. He lost his grandson in a shelter bombing, and his son disappeared after venturing out to find food for the family. “I searched every hospital, every morgue. I never found him.”
Now, with few options left, he plans to set up a tent over the ruins of one of the homes. Supplies are scarce, but his decision is firm. “I was born here. I grew up here. And I will die here in Jabalia.”
A City Erased
From north to south, Gaza bears the scars of one of the most destructive wars in its history. What was once a dense urban landscape has been flattened, leaving residents to navigate an endless expanse of ruins.
For many of those returning, there is a painful mixture of loss and attachment the comfort of returning home, even if home no longer exists.
In the words of Soheir Al-Absi: “We’ve come back to nothing, but it’s still our nothing.”
