Nasreen Naeem Al-Hilu, who is now raising her grandchildren after her sons were killed in Israeli attacks on Gaza.
For Palestinians now displaced to southern Gaza, memories of their homes in the north feel increasingly distant. They serve as a painful reminder of their ancestors’ homes and villages in historic Palestine, which they were forced to leave after the creation of Israel in 1948. Back then, Palestinians—including my grandparents-- thought that they would be able to go back to their homes within a week. Today, 76 years later, these Palestinians are not only refugees, but they have been displaced again—this time from their refugee camps due to Israel’s ongoing genocide in Gaza. All they hold on to today are the memories of what used to be their homes, which they can’t return to.
On Oct. 13, 2023, the Israeli military ordered Palestinians in the north of Gaza and Gaza City to head south of the Gaza Valley. Since then, about a million Palestinians from the north of Gaza have been displaced to the south. Unable to return to their homes, they hold tight to the memories of their lives that existed before Oct. 13. They recall the “good old days,” dreaming of returning home, even if it may be destroyed today.
As Israel refuses to allow a sufficient amount of aid trucks into the Gaza Strip, especially in the north causing widespread starvation, it is important to center the narrative on displaced Palestinians. It is important to document the lives and imaginations of Palestinians who once lived in northern Gaza until 2023. In this article, you will read about how Palestinians from the north of Gaza remember their lives, neighborhoods, and homes. I spoke to a number of Palestinians from the north of Gaza, who are now displaced in the south, and recorded their testimonies in an attempt to document their stories.
Ibrahim Ghunaim, 35, an UNRWA teacher from Jabaliya, now displaced in Deir Al-Balah, recalls his daily routine of teaching his students and going around his neighborhood. He posted a photo of Jabaliya on Facebook and wrote, “Peace be upon our refugee camp.” He told me that “Jabaliya resides at our heart. I miss walking on the beach with my friends, eating ice-cream with my wife and my morning routine of going to the UNRWA school. Now, we live in a tent that lacks the warmth of our family home. Life has lost its meaning after a year of displacement. Despite this, we cling to hope. The hope that we will return to our home, the hope I will be back to my school and students and the hope that this nightmare will end,” said Ibrahim as he tried to comfort his daughter in his new home tent.
Jad and Wesam Abusada, 8 and 7, are now displaced in Khan Younis from Jabaliya with their mother and grandmother. The children recall memories from their lives before displacement. Their father, Mohammed, 35, is studying in Norway, and was unable to evacuate them before the Rafah crossing was shut down. “I recall the soccer field near our home, I could not believe my eyes when I saw photos of its destruction,” says Jad. I miss my walk to the school, the crowded streets of our refugee camp, and the many shops and children on the street.
Wesam, 7, recalls the night before the Muslim Feast. “The streets would be full of lights. We would go to nearby shops to buy toys. We would feel safe amidst the crowds,” he adds from his family’s tent in southern Gaza.
Gaza was known for its ice cream, but the once iconic Kazim Ice Cream shop in the heart of the Omar Al-Mokhtar Street is now amidst the rubble. Hana Adil, an MA student in the UK who left Gaza in February 2024, recalls how she could not find the same taste of ice cream anywhere she has been to. “I left Gaza through Egypt, then I traveled to Qatar and from there I came to the U.K. No ice cream matches that of Gaza. It is true that Gaza was under siege, but it had the manpower and the skills for a thriving economy.”
“In the past, wars would end quickly, but this time, well-known business owners and smart people were lost, or had to be evacuated, and some of them started businesses elsewhere. This means that Gaza is suffering from brain drain, loss of history and landmarks, buildings and people,” concludes Hana.
Starvation in Gaza started in the north yet quickly spread to the south. Palestinians in the north started giving their families in the south advice as to how to deal with hunger, noting that the first three days are the toughest.
As for Reem Mohammad, 31, a social worker who continues to live in Gaza city, her relationship with the city is different. Despite the calls to evacuate, Reem stayed in what Israel describes as North Gaza along with her family, refusing to become a refugee for the second time in her life. Reem notes that “Years before the war, Gaza City took a quantum leap in terms of civilization in its commercial, investment, religious and architectural spaces. Gaza’s mosques were built at a high cost according to specifications that mimic the most beautiful mosques in the world, such as the Khalil al-Wazir, Khalidi, and Hasayneh mosques. There were luxurious restaurants, shops and malls, despite the siege. But since October 7, Gaza has not been the same. It is not empty of its inhabitants, but most of its houses have been emptied,” said Reem.
Reem added, “When we get back to our homes after Israeli forces leave, we would find everything upside down. No place is the same. Even the streets are dusty, and the standing buildings have lost their landmarks.
We can't even recognize our own houses.
Israel’s war machine has destroyed Gaza to the extent that families can no longer recognize their neighborhoods and homes. “As for places that we used to visit in the past, we go looking for them as if we were walking in a desert covered with huge stones. No paved roads are suitable for walking. No signs of landmarks.
We used to be able to find the way from a mosque, a famous shop or a restaurant, but all of them have been completely destroyed, so we check the rubble to find out what used to be, and sometimes we can’t recognize the place. What used to take us five minutes on foot, takes 30 to 40 minutes to recognize,” continues Reem.
For people like Reem, her dream is to feel the rubble of her home, which she has not seen for the past 14 months. Israel prohibits the residents of her area from returning, and she will not take the risk to journey there.
“I am eagerly waiting for the ceasefire to be able go back and feel the rubble of my house in Tel al-Hawa. I haven't seen it in 14 months. I found aerial photos posted online. I could not identify the location of my house due to the amount of rubble in the area. I sat down to examine the photo and calculate the distance of my house from the sea, which remained unchanged by what happened to our city.
I found features of the blue dome of the mosque next to my house. In what used to be my house, there are seasonal plants and herbs growing. This gives me hope we will rise again, just like our plants and trees,” says Reem.
