Gaza’s al-Mughraqa and Juhor ad-Dik residents return to nothing

The areas of Al-Mughraqa and Juhor ad-Dik in central Gaza were unrecognisable to its Palestinians residents who returned. Nearly 15 months after they were forced to flee due to Israeli attacks, they come back to see only rubble and dust. 

An eerie silence covers the land, broken only by the wind carrying whispers of laughter and love that once filled these streets.

In a sudden move, the Israeli army withdrew from the Netzarim axis on Sunday, allowing movement between northern and southern Gaza as part of the ceasefire agreement with armed Palestinian factions. 

The seven-kilometre-long corridor, once one of the most militarised Israeli positions, had divided Gaza, making travel between its two halves nearly impossible during the war.

As soon as the Israeli withdrawal from Netzarim was confirmed, hundreds of families walked on foot, their eyes brimming with tears as they searched through the ruins for fragments of their old lives. 

Many tried to maintain their optimism, hoping to align themselves with the landscape before them, only to realise that the streets, the houses, and the landmarks that once guided them home had been wiped away.

A landscape of destruction

The Israeli war’s devastation was evident everywhere. Along the Netzarim axis, all the neighbourhoods were reduced to rubble. Charred vehicles stood as haunting relics, and roads obliterated by relentless bombardment, leaving behind craters too deep to navigate.

The once-lush farmland surrounding the area had been transformed into barren wastelands. Burned trees stood like skeletal reminders of the destruction. 

For the residents, returning home meant confronting the brutal reality of nothing but piles of iron, molten concrete, and shattered dreams.

Gaafar Abu Said, a resident of Juhor ad-Dik, stood motionless, surveying the vast destruction.

“I am in shock. I cannot recognise anything from our old neighbourhood. The Israeli army destroyed everything here; the streets were erased. All that remains for us is rubble, disappointment, and an uncertain future,” the 50-year-old father of eight said to The New Arab. 

Like all those who returned to the area, Abu Said hoped to find even one intact room where he could live with his ten-member family instead of the fragile tent they now occupied. 

“It seems we will spend years and maybe decades as displaced people, living in nothingness,” Abu Said added.  

His youngest child clung to his leg, too young to comprehend the depth of their loss but old enough to sense his father’s heartbreak.

Memories in ruins

In Al-Mughraqa, the devastation was equally severe. Residents returning to their homes found themselves amid total obliteration. No house survived, and the entire area had been reduced to an unbroken expanse of wreckage.

Samih Abu Huwaishel, a Palestinian man from Juhor ad-Dik, stood before the remnants of his home, which he had built stone by stone. His tear-filled eyes scanned the debris and murmured, “This is not my house. Nothing is left. Everything has turned to ashes.”

His face, marked by deep wrinkles of hardship, was pale with grief. “Where do we go now? Where will my children and grandchildren live? I spent my whole life building this house, and now we have nothing,” he lamented. 

Nearby, Umm Mohammed clutched a dust-covered photograph, trying to hold onto memories of a life before the war. “Even after we returned, we found nothing but destruction, rubble, and the bodies of our loved ones buried in the dirt,” she told TNA, wiping away tears. 

“I am not just crying over walls, but over the years we lived here, surrounded by our family and friends. Because of the war, we are scattered, and many of us are gone forever,” the 65-year-old mother of six said. 

Ahmed Abu Kamil, 35, sifted through the rubble with his bare hands, hoping to salvage any trace of his family’s belongings. “We returned to find everything wiped out, like a hurricane had swept through and left us nothing. Even the trees my father planted are gone,” he said. 

His voice trembled, but defiance flickered in his eyes, he added, “Despite all this destruction, we will not leave. This is our land, and we will rebuild.”

The impossible task of rebuilding

Survival in Al-Mughraqa and Juhor ad-Dik seems nearly impossible. There is no running water, electricity, or infrastructure to shelter the displaced. Homes, schools, and hospitals have been levelled by Israel. The basic necessities of life are nonexistent.

Jabr Abu Hajir, the governor of Wadi Gaza, described the catastrophe in grim terms. “The Israeli occupation has turned this area into a disaster zone. Over 2,500 homes have been destroyed, along with more than 2,000 dunums of farmland. Infrastructure has been completely wiped out, leaving thousands homeless and without any means of survival,” Abu Hajir told TNA. 

Despite all odds, the Palestinian residents refuse to abandon their land. They gather whatever scraps they can and erect makeshift tents in the wreckage, determined to rebuild. Some families have begun marking plots where their homes once stood, hoping they will see walls rise again one day. Among the ruins, children play, and their innocence is forever altered by war. Their laughter, though faint, is a defiant act against the suffering they have endured.

Mahmoud Abu Asi, a 10-year-old boy, stood atop a pile of rubble where his home once stood. His voice, though small, carried the weight of generations. “This is our city. We will not leave it, even if it is destroyed.”

As night falls, campfires flicker among the ruins, illuminating the exhausted faces of those who have nowhere else to go. The sky above is endless and dark, mirroring an uncertain future for those below in Gaza.