The Electronic Intifada 5 March 2025
Linda and Muhammad Jarour.
For the people of Jabaliya, the war was never over.
Even as Israel threatens to restart its genocidal aggression on Gaza, after breaching the ceasefire agreement that came into force on 19 January, those who have returned to northern Gaza while the guns were nearly silent, have not had much respite.
Here, people are still struggling to get a gallon or even a cup of water. They are desperate for shelter from strong winds and heavy rains. They barely have a light for the dark nights.
Rami al-Tabatibi, a father of seven, was displaced along with his family during the last of Israel’s ground assaults on Jabaliya refugee camp. On the first day of that invasion, which started on 5 October 2024, soldiers began firing at residents to force them out.
As the afternoon passed, Rami’s family hesitated to leave, fearing they would be without shelter by nightfall. That night, however, the gunfire came from all directions and never stopped. At dawn the next day, they reluctantly decided to leave, waving a white flag.
Among Rami’s 45 relatives forcibly displaced that day was his 80-year-old mother, Aysha, who at the time had breast cancer and could not walk. “I was afraid that her heart would stop out of terror when I placed her in a wheelchair and started pushing her through the rubble,” Rami told The Electronic Intifada.
One of Rami’s daughters, Sara, 22, insisted on walking despite a shrapnel injury to her leg. However, the journey proved too much. She collapsed, and they also had to put her in a wheelchair. Relatives took turns pushing her and Aysha.
They reached the local Al-Yemen Al-Saeed Hospital, which had become a displacement camp, and waited for the gunfire to subside. Eventually, they managed to reach Jabaliya Station – where people used to catch rides elsewhere, hence the name – where a relative took them in.
The house, no larger than 150 square meters, was already packed with displaced people and there were now nearly 80 individuals crammed inside. The men slept in one room, the women in another.
Crowding, tensions and struggle
One of the biggest struggles was securing water. Rami said they sourced some water supplies from a church near Jabaliya Station – a 45-minute walk from where they were – and then had to get it back on a small hand-pulled cart.
Back in the cramped conditions at the house, meanwhile, tensions flared between families over scarce food and water resources, adding to the hardship.
When the ceasefire came into effect on 19 January, the family returned to Jabaliya. They were shocked to see the entire neighborhood had been nearly erased, though given the scale of the explosions they had heard while fleeing, Rami had expected the destruction to be massive.
“I had barely gotten a chance to enjoy my apartment,” Rami told The Electronic Intifada. He had renovated his home just six months before 7 October at a cost of $22,000. Every penny he had earned as a construction worker in Israel went into the improvements.
Rami al-Tabatiti in front of his makeshift shelter.
As he stared at the ruins of a building that once housed eight families – each apartment over 170 square meters and surrounded by lush farmland, all of it flattened – he was overcome with emotion, he said. The land had been their “paradise,” he said, filled with orange, olive, almond and lemon trees – a source of both sustenance and income.
He is determined to begin again. But the makeshift shelters they have set up on the ruins of their former home barely withstand the wind and rain. Sleep is nearly impossible when the wind blows harshly, and every attempt to keep the water out has failed.
Yet, amidst the rubble, they salvaged what they could – charred blankets, remnants of clothes – anything to keep warm in the freezing winter.
They will never leave Gaza.
No other option
Linda Jarour, 45, was forced to flee south alone on 15 October 2023. The Israeli army had dropped leaflets and made phone calls ordering people to evacuate. She left her home in the Jabaliya refugee camp without taking anything with her. Only weeks later did her husband, Muhammad, follow, after she had repeatedly begged him.
In May 2024, Linda’s neighbors contacted her with devastating news: Her home had been bombed. She was deeply affected by the news.
Linda had first sought refuge in an UNRWA barracks in Rafah, where her husband eventually joined her. When the Israeli army invaded Rafah in May, last year, the barracks were bombed while she was inside. She survived but was left traumatized, she said. They then relocated to the Mawasi area of Khan Younis.
Life in the south was extremely difficult. She initially had no shelter and, with no children of her own, struggled for food as most aid was distributed to large families. During displacement, she also developed high blood pressure due to immense stress and anxiety. Finding medicine was, and remains, a constant struggle.
“I was eager to return to the soil of the north,” Linda told The Electronic Intifada, sitting in front of an open fire near her makeshift tent that they built near the rubble of their former home in Jabaliya.
For Linda, the news of a ceasefire felt like a revival. Even though she knew she would return to nothing but rubble, she never had any doubt that she would go back.
She hesitates to think about how to even begin rebuilding.
“The Israelis did not allow tents to get in, are they to allow concrete?” Linda shrugged.
Meanwhile, the situation is difficult. Water seeps into the tent the women of the neighborhood are sharing and there is little protection from the wind and cold.
On 5 February, around 1 am, a strong gust of wind caused a sheet of asbestos to collapse on the tent causing an anxious night.
Since returning, the Jarours have received no aid and have had to fetch water from Jabaliya camp, about 500 meters away.
For now, Linda and Muhammad will continue living with their neighbors until they can clean their own space and acquire a tent. They have lost all sources of income, and they are surviving on the charity of others.
Still, she said: “Even if another war broke out, even if reconstruction takes years, we would never leave. No matter how many options were available.”
Unshakeable
Wael Shalha, 45, a father of six, lost his home, a five-floor building, where he lived on the third floor.
Since returning north after a long displacement, he has managed to create a shelter for himself and his family near the ruins, using stones, mud, wood and whatever available materials he could lay his hands on.
Wael Shalha in front of the ruins of his former home.
During the second invasion of Jabaliya, in May last year, the family was displaced to a shelter near Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza City.
Before they left Jabaliya, however, Wael’s father, Atta, began to complain of health issues.
Previously in good health – before Israel’s genocidal aggression, he would regularly play football with the children of the neighborhood – Atta suffered a series of strokes for which doctors at the beleaguered Kamal Adwan Hospital could offer no support.
“The staff at the hospital told us that they could not help him,” Wael told The Electronic Intifada.
The family had no choice but to care for him themselves as his condition deteriorated. Atta died on 25 May. He was 75. He died in a tent, displaced to Gaza City.
Wael and his family had moved back north when the Israeli military once again invaded Jabaliya in October. The army entered Wael’s neighborhood first. His building was still standing at that time. More than 60 family members gathered in the stairwell at night, waiting for day to break so they could leave.
The gunfire was relentless, he said, but he and his relatives managed to reach Sheikh Radwan neighborhood of Gaza City, where they found refuge in a school. That displacement lasted for three months, and was marked by immense hardship, with barely any water and food available, let alone money to pay expenses.
When the ceasefire came into effect, Wael did not know yet that his home had been destroyed. His shock was not just for the loss of his building, but for the complete devastation of Jabaliya and the northern region.
“How can I find a shelter to live in now?” Wael asked.
He has no tent and had to gather wood and stones from the rubble of his home to construct a makeshift shelter. The structure provides little protection against the heavy rain.
And with Israel shutting crossings into Gaza again in an attempt to extend the first phase of a ceasefire agreement that should have entered its second phase on 2 March, Wael, and tens of thousands like him who have returned north, are unlikely to find anything more secure for the time being.
Yet, he remains determined to reinforce his shelter, making it as sturdy as possible so he can stay in Jabaliya.
Wael and his eight brothers, once all in one building, have now been scattered. Some live nearby, in tents, and some remain in shelters in schools in Jabaliya or Sheikh Radwan.
All refuse to leave.
“Nothing is worse than what they have already endured. Nothing can shake their resolve,” Wael told The Electronic Intifada.
Hamza Salha is a journalist based in Gaza. He writes for We Are Not Numbers.
