Gaza, February 16, 2026 (WAFA) – Safaa Al-Brim
As the holy month of Ramadan approaches, tens of thousands of displaced people in the Gaza Strip are living in a state of anxiety and loss, where the question has become who will sit at the table instead of what we will cook.
Ramadan, which used to be filled with decorations and family gatherings, has become for many a month of deep loss, and a daily test of patience under flimsy tents that do not protect from the summer heat or the winter cold.
The displaced people are waiting for the day when their lives will return to a home that brings them together around the warmth of family, far from a tent that restricts everything and imposes its limits on every moment of their lives .
In one of the tents in Mawasi Khan Yunis, Umm Muhammad Al-Arja (46 years old), displaced from the city of Rafah, sits and says in a faint voice : “ I no longer think about the Ramadan shopping list, nor about the lantern decorations that used to fill the balcony of my spacious house before the war, which was destroyed by the Israeli occupation two years ago . ”
She adds sadly: “What hurts me the most today is the absence… the absence of my husband Ibrahim (50 years old), who was killed by the occupation at the beginning of the war, and my son Muhammad (20 years old), who is still missing, and the absence of the house that used to bring us together around one table, which was destroyed by the occupation’s missiles . ”
Umm Muhammad pauses briefly, then continues her story : “I used to prepare the decorations with my three sons, Muhammad (20 years old), Abdullah (18 years old), and Ammar (14 years old), competing to hang the crescent and the lantern… But today I only have pictures of my husband and my son, as the sadness has left no room for celebration . ”
Umm Muhammad raises her hands in supplication, and whispers in a low voice :
“We want a Ramadan filled with safety… nothing more.”
According to medical sources in the Gaza Strip, the death toll in the Gaza Strip has risen to 72,061 martyrs since October 7, 2023, and 171,715 wounded.
More than a year ago, it was estimated that more than 1.93 million Palestinians, or about 85% of the population of the Gaza Strip, were forced to flee within or outside the Strip multiple times due to the aggression.
Alaa Salah (35 years old), displaced from eastern Khan Younis to Al-Mawasi, is preparing to welcome her third Ramadan since the beginning of the Israeli war on Gaza in October 2023, in exceptional circumstances .
She says: “Ramadan, which used to be a month of togetherness and warmth, has become a month of facing loss… At sunset, memories overflow before the few plates overflow with whatever food is available.”
Alaa continues: “We have been displaced three times since the beginning of the war. The first Ramadan in 2024 we spent as displaced persons in the city of Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip, and in the second Ramadan in 2025 we returned to our partially destroyed home in the town of Khuza’a, east of Khan Yunis, and lived among the cracked walls, before the Israeli bombing forced us to be displaced a third time to the Khan Yunis outskirts, where we will spend Ramadan this year.”
Alaa adds: “The biggest fear is that we don’t feel safe anywhere… and that we might wake up to a new displacement or a new escalation during Ramadan . “
It is worth noting that the occupation’s bombing of the Gaza Strip has been renewed from time to time since the ceasefire agreement was announced last October, leaving more martyrs, wounded and missing .
As for Mrs. Hanan Abdul Rahman (30 years old), a mother of three orphans, she sits in front of her tent watching her children collect empty boxes to make small lanterns, trying to bring some Ramadan joy into their difficult lives.
Abdul Rahman says: “Our house used to be spacious, we used to spread out the large rug to pray together, but now we pray on wet sand.”
She points to the ground in her tent, where a small area has been set aside for cooking, above which is a primitive stone stove, topped with pots blackened by smoke. Next to the stove is a carefully stacked pile of firewood, considered the most precious thing in the tent because it is the source of fire, warmth, and cooking, while the smell of smoke mixes with the scent of damp fabric to fill the entire space .
She continues: “The occupation killed my husband last June, and since then I have become the sole provider for my family . ” She adds sadly: “I used to rely on him to provide for the household’s needs… but today I am trying to be both mother and father . “
But what breaks her heart most is her youngest child Yazan’s question: “Will my father fast with us in Paradise? ” She simply hugs him, unable to find an answer to comfort him. This single question encapsulates the pain of a generation that grew up too soon; a generation that once awaited Eid gifts but now waits for news of a missing person or a moment of peace that never comes .
Mr. Abu Omar Za’nouna (55 years old), who was displaced from Gaza City to Mawasi Khan Younis, says :
“The concerns in the tents are not one, but rather a series of accumulated worries… There is the anxiety about not being able to provide breakfast and suhoor meals in light of the exorbitant prices and high costs.”
The Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics indicated that consumer prices in the Gaza Strip rose by 1.42% during January 2026 compared to December 2025. Before
the war, the annual increase was limited to about 3%, but after the war, prices rose very dramatically, by a rate exceeding 230%, as a result of the cessation of supplies and the shortage of basic goods due to the closure of crossings and the prevention of aid from entering .
Abu Omar Zanouna expresses his deep pain, saying: “The month of Ramadan will come and we are still in a tent that does not protect us from the heat or the cold . “
He adds sadly: “We miss the family gathering in Ramadan, which will not be complete, after losing my son Omar (25 years old) during the occupation’s bombing of the displaced people’s tents several months ago . “
At the end of each day, their question is repeated: Will the next Ramadan come and we are still here? Or will we return to our homes that we left behind in the rubble?
However, the conversations of displaced people during Ramadan are not without simple wishes: that the displacement will stop, that the war will end, that the fate of the missing will be revealed, and that the next Ramadan will arrive without tents .
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S.K.
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