MECA’s Amal Abu Moaliqe writes about going back to Rafah during the temporary ceasefire to see what people need and how MECA can help. After her visit, we began sending clean water by truck to the areas she visited where families are sheltering in their destroyed homes or tents.
When we were forced to evacuate Rafah in May last year, it was the most densely populated area in the Gaza Strip. Originally home to around 170,000 residents, it had become a temporary, immensely crowded sanctuary for approximately 1.3 million displaced people from all areas of Gaza. Despite the severe overcrowding and scarcities, Rafah was alive with the dreams of those hoping to return to their homes, clinging to the hope that they had finally found a refuge from Israeli bombs, tanks, and snipers.
Efforts by international organizations to provide services for such a massive number of people had been woefully inadequate. The water crisis was at its peak, and the lack of space made it nearly impossible to find room for tents. Many other challenges emerged, such as the outbreak of diseases during the winter and the later infestation of strange insects, resulting from the sewage system’s inability to handle the excessive strain. You could see kids in the streets and passersby whose entire bodies were covered with these awful creatures.
The eyes of the world were on this beleaguered city. Despite people around the world opposing the evacuation and any form of invasion, the Israeli occupying forces were resolute in their mission to destroy. The brutal and inhumane assaults began in early March, and for two more agonizing months, the people of Rafah lived in constant fear of an impending ground invasion, gradually losing faith in the global community’s power to halt Israel’s oppression.
Families shelter in their mostly destroyed homes
Then, the inevitable occurred and the entire city was bombarded, forcing the people into yet another wave of displacement. Many sought refuge in Mawasi Khan Younis, despite the area lacking even the most basic infrastructure for its original residents. Others moved toward the western parts of Deir El-Balah and Khan Younis, searching for any semblance of safety.
Now, with the announcement of a temporary ceasefire, my colleagues and I from MECA returned to Rafah to assess the situation in a city that holds a profound place in our hearts. Rafah was a defining chapter in the displacement journey of nearly every Palestinian in the Gaza Strip—a place where we clung to hope, believing that Israel did not hold absolute power over this world. I, personally, spent nearly three months there, walking its streets and alleys until I knew them like the back of my hand. I can still remember every corner, every sound. I wept tears of joy in those streets every time hope filled my heart that we might return home. And I cried even harder in its alleys when the heartbreaking news reached me that Israel had destroyed my home in the north.
What’s left of MECA’s warehouse in Rafah
But when we returned last week, I literally couldn’t find Rafah. It had lost more than 90% of its buildings, including nearly 52,000 housing units, nine health centers, and all of the MECA warehouses. The main hospitals were fully out of service; others, like Emirati hospital, were damaged or, like Abu Yusuf Al-Najjar Hospital, completely destroyed. All the electricity networks in the city were demolished, along with the main wells, desalination plants, sewage pumps, schools, and mosques. Eighty percent of agricultural land was ruined, and Al Balad, located in the center of Rafah and once the most vibrant part of the city, was completely wiped out.
Despite the overwhelming destruction, Rafah still amazes me with its unwavering spirit. In the first 10 days of the ceasefire, Rafah’s Municipality worked tirelessly to reopen all the main and secondary roads into the city and allocated land to set up camps for the people coming back. And the people themselves just do not give up. When we arrived in the Tel al-Sultan area, 95% of it had been destroyed, yet the people there had set up tents around what was left of their homes and were doing what they could to repair them. Life is undeniably hard—almost impossible, actually—and it will remain so for a long time. But the only thing that is truly impossible is to uproot us from our land, to turn it into playgrounds and resorts for a corrupt world that sees Gaza as a goldmine to increase its wealth. For who has the power to decide what to do with Gaza? We—and no one else.
Still, the people need support to reinforce their resilience. Every individual and international organization dedicated to human rights and fighting injustice must step up to help provide the basics of life for people trying to rebuild: livable shelter, clean drinking water, hot meals and so much more. There is always hope for the revival of Rafah—and all of Gaza.
