As the first light of dawn breaks over the war-ravaged coastal enclave, it reveals a haunting scene: entire neighbourhoods reduced to rubble, streets eerily silent, and families mourning their dead instead of celebrating Eid al-Fitr.
While Muslims around the world mark the holiday with joy, in Gaza, there is no celebration. Israeli drones hover overhead, a constant reminder that even on this sacred day, the war continues. Since 7 October 2023, Gaza has endured months of relentless bombardment, displacement, and devastation.
Even the traditional exchange of Eid greetings has changed. Social media, once filled with photos of families in festive clothes, now overflows with condolence messages and black-and-white portraits of victims.
“Only two years ago, our area was one of the happiest places,” Hanan Abu Shaaban, a 29-year-old mother of four living in Gaza, told The New Arab. “We used to celebrate Eid with joy and laughter. Now, war has replaced everything.”
Sunday marked the second Eid since the war began, and for families like Hanan’s, it is one defined by loss.
“The smell of Eid sweets no longer drifts through the air,” she said. “Instead, the smell of destruction lingers. We don’t even know if we’ll survive.”
For children, the change is particularly jarring. Hanan’s eldest son, Youssef, 10, clutches a tattered Eid outfit from last year – now too small.
“Mama, will we ever celebrate Eid like before?” he asked her. She had no answer, only a tight embrace.
In Khan Younis, displaced mother Hadeel al-Sousi, 42, faced heartbreaking questions from her own children, who asked for new Eid clothes.
“How can I explain that I have nothing-not even for life, let alone for Eid?” she told The New Arab. “I tried to tell them Gaza will have its Eid after the war, but then our neighbour’s children showed up in new clothes.”
Before the war, Hadeel would spend weeks preparing for Eid, carefully choosing outfits for her children. Now, survival takes precedence.
Across Gaza, more than 1.7 million people are displaced, many sheltering in overcrowded UNRWA facilities, makeshift tents, or under open skies. In Deir al-Balah, Manar al-Sawalhi watches her children outside their temporary shelter, their clothes stiff with dust.
“I used to sew their Eid clothes myself, embroidering them with love,” she said. “Now my sewing machine is buried under our destroyed home. I can barely mend what little they have left.”
Her youngest daughter, Jana, tugs at her sleeve.
“Mama, will we get new clothes after the war?” The question hangs in the air, unanswered.
More than 13,000 Palestinian children have been killed since the war began, according to the Palestinian Ministry of Health. Those who survive carry deep psychological and physical scars.
In multiple statements, UNICEF has warned of unprecedented trauma among Gaza’s children, many of whom have no access to education, healthcare, or even basic necessities.
