Gazans receive the announcement of a cessation of war with a mixture of joy and tears

Among the ruins of destroyed homes and displacement tents extending on the outskirts of the cities of the Gaza Strip, the Palestinians received the announcement of a cessation of war with a mixture of joy and tears, in a moment that many described as “survival after a long nightmare” that lasted for two continuous years of bombing, destruction, displacement and suffering.

In almost empty streets and camps crowded with displaced people, residents emerged from their tents and looked at the sky, which for the first time in months seemed relatively empty of planes. Children ran barefoot across the sand, and women peeked out from between the demolished walls, while some young men raised Palestinian flags in a rare scene since the outbreak of war.

However, this joy remained tinged with the bitterness of loss, as everyone realizes that calm does not erase what the Gazans lost, nor bring back those who left.

Muhammad Abu Odeh (45 years old) was a carpenter in the town of Beit Hanoun in the northern Gaza Strip before the war, and today he lives in a tent in Deir al-Balah in the center of the Strip after losing his home and source of livelihood.

He says as he contemplates the gray horizon: “My first reaction was crying. It was crying mixed with joy and sadness. I felt that I had survived a real holocaust, but at the same time I remembered the faces of my loved ones who did not survive. We had no house or tree left, and all we dream of now is to return to see what is left of our land.”

Muhammad, who completely lost his work and tools, adds: “I used to plant lemon trees around my house, and I will plant the first new tree when I return, as a sign that life is able to rise from under the rubble.”


Ali Al-Sayed (39 years old), the taxi driver, sat on the Gaza beach, contemplating the sea that he had been deprived of seeing for two full years.
He says in an emotional voice, “This moment that every Palestinian was waiting for is the moment when the killing stopped and the guns fell silent. Two years of blood, tears, and hunger have finally ended. The sea itself was tired of hearing the sounds of explosions, and today when I returned to it, I cried for a long time.”

Ali dreams of buying a new car to return to work, and he confirms that the first thing he will do is visit his mother in the Rimal neighborhood to hug her after a long separation. But he admits his fear that the calm will be temporary: “We want real peace, not a short break before the next war,” he says.

In a small tent near Khan Yunis, sat Fatima Helmi, 33 years old, an Arabic language teacher who lost her paramedic husband during the war, and his body has not yet been found. She says, holding her little girl’s hand, “I want to return to my home in Sheikh Radwan, even if there is nothing left of it. Today, many feelings are mixed in my heart, joy, sadness, hope, and despair. I hope that this agreement will be a new beginning, not just a temporary truce. I just want my children to live days without fear.”

Despite her suffering, Fatima has been trying for months to teach the camp children to read and write inside her tent, in an attempt to revive the spirit of the school that was destroyed by the war. She adds with a tired smile, “Perhaps education is the only thing that war could not destroy.”

In the Al-Sabra neighborhood in Gaza City, Ibrahim Al-Deiri (52 years old), a former employee in the Gaza municipality, sat in front of the ruins of his partially demolished house, contemplating the place that had witnessed his entire life. He lost two relatives in the bombing, but he continued his volunteer work distributing aid.

Al-Diri says calmly, “The war is ending and peace is returning little by little to our wounded land. But before we raise our voices of joy, we must listen to the silence of the mothers who gave the most precious thing they had. Yes, let us rejoice, but with a dignity befitting the greatness of the sacrifices.”

Today, Ibrahim works with a group of young men to remove rubble from the neighborhood streets. “Every stone we remove is a small step towards life again,” he says, holding the remains of a collapsed wall.

Despite the scene of joy that spread across the sector, a general feeling of caution and suspicion prevails. Many Gazans do not believe that the war is actually over. The sounds of planes are still sometimes heard in the sky, arousing in people an accumulated instinctive fear. However, the cessation of the bombing, even if temporarily, restored the city to some of its first pulse: the voices of children, the calls of vendors, and people’s laughter despite the pain.
In every corner of the Strip, one sentence is on everyone’s lips: “We want to live.”

Last night, US President Donald Trump announced that an agreement had been reached to stop the war in Gaza, stipulating a comprehensive ceasefire, the withdrawal of Israeli forces from the Strip, allowing the entry of humanitarian aid, and the start of a prisoner exchange process.

The Palestinian factions welcomed the agreement and considered it a victory for the steadfastness of the people, while analysts warned of its fragility in the absence of political understandings about the future of the Strip. However, hope remains that this truce will constitute a starting point towards lasting peace, as Muhammad Abu Odeh says: “After the war, it must be a new beginning, not a repetition of hell.”