Tehran – Ramadan has arrived in Gaza as the devastation from the Israeli attack remains overwhelming.
Despite the destruction, the Palestinians are determined to observe the Holy Moon.
After almost 16 months of relentless fire, much of Gaza is in abandoned. The family, once gathered around a dinner table, is quickly breaking down in a cold place surrounded by the wreckage of the house.
A simple meal of lentils and bread is cooked over a makeshift fire at the crushed Jabarilla refugee camp.
The entire neighborhood was reduced to tile rubs and hospitals were barely supplied, making it hardly functional and essential infrastructure collapsed.
The UN reports that almost the entire population of Gaza is being forced to evacuate. Many now live in overcrowded shelters, tents, or temporary homes built from rescued debris.
But amidst these difficulties, the spirit of Ramadan endures. The family gathers for Iftar (breaks the fast), the children find moments to play in the ruins, and the faithful continue to pray even in the destroyed mosque.
In Gaza city, men placed prayer rugs on cracked pavements and recited poems from the Quran as dust and smoke filled the air.
“We lost a lot,” says Ahmed, the father of four whose homes were destroyed in the airstrike. “But our faith and resilience will never be taken from us.”
In addition to their struggle, Gaza is currently dealing with serious floods. Heavy rain turns the tent city into a muddy swamp, and the drainage system is too damaged to handle water.
In some areas, people have overcome deep-loose floods and try to save a bit of what they left behind.
Mahmoud Abu Sitta, 67, lost his home in the bombing, now sleeps in a tent slowly filled with rainwater.
“The first bomb, now the flood,” he says. “I feel like the pain won’t end.”
But even in these dire circumstances, the people of Gaza embrace their traditions.
The communal spirit of Ramadan remains strong. Those who don’t have much yet still share it with their neighbors. Volunteers distribute food and supplies despite their struggles.
In a small bakery that has survived the airstrikes, young men tirelessly try to bake flatbread and feed a family with nothing left.
“This is what Ramadan teaches us,” says Yousef, one of the bakers. “To give each other care even when we are suffering.”
Evening prayers, once held at the magnificent mosque, are now held in makeshift spaces, in tents, in street corners, or in the shadows of collapsed buildings.
Each prayer is a plea to the end of the suffering that has defined salvation, justice, and life in Gaza for too long.
Humanitarian aid has arrived late, border crossings are tightly controlled by Israeli occupation regimes, and political negotiations are hardly certain.
The fragile ceasefire has resulted in temporary calm, but on Sunday Israeli authorities pressed them to halt humanitarian aid cargo and to pressure Hamas to agree to the administration’s terms of extension of the truce.
Hamas urged mediators to ensure that the occupation regime would comply with the ceasefire agreement, including a second phase negotiations to see Israeli forces withdraw from Gaza.
Despite everything, the people of Gaza are stuck. They are fast, they pray, they want. They rebuild their lives, even when the world appears to have abandoned them.
When the call to prayer echoes through the devastated land, it has the unwavering resilience of those who refuse to break down, even if everything around them falls apart.