When Israeli bombardment and ground incursions intensified in late June, the Badr family was forced to flee their three-storey home in Jabalia, northern Gaza, seeking refuge with relatives in the Al-Zarqa neighbourhood east of Gaza City. They left behind an undamaged house filled with belongings accumulated over many years, like hundreds of other families who fled under the roar of shelling, gunfire and the detonation of explosive-laden robots.
Malek Badr, 43, a father of six, told Al Majalla that he fled with his family, his brother’s family, and the family of a third brother who had been living abroad since before the war of extermination began. “We locked our doors and left when the threat of death came too close,” he said. “We hoped to return and find the house still standing. But everything was destroyed. All that remained was a crumbling fragment of the ground floor.”
In the early days of their displacement, the family moved from one area of Gaza City to another, eventually settling in the town of Al-Zawaida in central Gaza. They remained there for over a month, until the Israeli army announced its withdrawal following a ceasefire and prisoner exchange agreement between Hamas and Israel, brokered in the first half of October. With that, the family decided to return to Jabalia, only to find a landscape of near-total devastation. Homes, apartment blocks and even the infrastructure had been reduced to rubble.
“The moment we returned and entered the neighbourhood, all we could see was destruction,” Malek recalled. “Houses had collapsed into the streets, their debris tangled together. After hours of walking over the wreckage, we finally located what used to be our home.”
Malek, his brother, and their children searched for a nearby spot to pitch their tents, but the area was buried in debris. They began clearing the remnants of their home, salvaging what they could and sealing off the surviving portion with tarpaulins and scraps of fabric they had once used to build tents during their previous displacement.
Perilous gamble
The family took a perilous gamble, choosing to shelter beneath a fractured ceiling bearing the weight of two collapsed floors. The walls were eroded, and the surrounding buildings had been obliterated. But with no means to rent another home or secure a plot of land for a tent, they had no choice. The seasons were shifting, and the arrival of autumn and winter brought fierce winds and rain, threatening to seep through the rubble and trigger further collapses that could bury them alive.
“I spend all my time trying to seal the cracks and holes,” Malek explained. “We’re terrified that the rain will flood us or that the rest of the house will collapse. My wife and I talk constantly about our fears, but we have no alternative. Every time the wind picks up, stones and dust fall on us. I rush to reinforce the weak spots, but the danger is always there.” He added, “We’re like cats, moving our children from one corner to another.”
Umayma Badr, 36, the wife of Malek’s brother, lives with her children in a nearby room beneath the same ruins. She faces the same peril. With no alternative shelter and no access to tents or tarpaulins, she told Al Majalla, “We’re living on faith alone. There’s nothing we can do. People think the war is over and the danger has passed, but we’re still fighting a war every day—against ourselves and the reality forced upon us. At any moment, this place could collapse on our heads.”
