Gaza Faces Another Year of Struggles Amid Ongoing Conflict

Gaza: A City Scarred by War

The city of Gaza – For the past two years, we have stopped counting the seasons, days, and the passage of time. Days no longer feel like days; the life we knew before the outbreak of Israel's genocidal war is gone. Instead, the days blend together, feeling every shade of suffering and tasting every bitter cup, with the exception of one that could bring our lives back. We look at the world writing about the end of 2025, celebrating achievements and opening a blank page to welcome the coming year. But a new year in Gaza means entering the third year of war and its repercussions. It seems that Gaza has its own calendar since the onset of genocide.

Tears and Disbelief

Those who have survived this year are alive only in body, but their souls have been eroded – you can see that on the faces of any woman or man who has been displaced for two years. At the beginning of 2025, we were hopeful when we returned, carrying tears and disbelief, to northern Gaza, to our destroyed homes where we spent our entire lives. During that ceasefire in January 2025, we believed that the war had ended and that we could start anew. But we were mistaken. Just six weeks later, when people were still trying to grasp life in post-war northern Gaza, the war returned, even more brutal. In mid-March, we were awakened by the sound of bombs – a sound that has never left us.

Hunger: An Unexpected Weapon

By this date, Israel had added the weapon of hunger, blocking the entry of everything, including humanitarian aid. And so it continued: War, bombings, blood, hunger, and a constant race to obtain a single meal. The seasons of abundance have passed us by, and the tables remained bare. No festive cake, no coffee, no chocolate. Nothing. People offered water, while some stopped receiving visitors, hiding their poverty. This year, the supermarket shelves had been empty for months.

A Year Filled with Bitterness

I resolved not to visit my family for Eid and returned home. I arrived exhausted, while the children followed me. I had enough money to buy them new clothes, but all the money could not buy a cake. I collapsed on the couch, wondering about the wrath that seemed to descend upon us in Gaza, while the rest of the planet continued to celebrate. As the days passed, I lost my desire to write or listen to people's stories. What was the point in hearing the tales of the hungry when the world had become accustomed to their protruding bones? Hunger was a weapon we never expected to encounter in Gaza.

An Ironic Year-End

A few days before the year's end, I joked with my father and brothers, who took shelter with us, trying to imitate the social media trends of achievements. When it was my turn, I stated that my greatest achievement this year was managing to maintain my mental health. We all laughed, but behind the laughter, we understood the weight of our reality. We no longer speak of strength, but of survival under conditions that consume our souls.