Gaza one year after the ceasefire: Shurouq's story amid rubble and humanitarian emergency

One year after the ceasefire, the war continues to weigh on daily life in Gaza. Nearly two million Palestinians are crammed into about a third of the territory, travel remains limited, essential goods are difficult to find and reconstruction has not yet begun. Shurouq, 32 years old, a Save the Children worker in Gaza, tells what it means to live in the Strip today. Shurouq - a fictional name to defend her identity - lost her husband in the first weeks of the war, and together with her four-year-old daughter, Karmel, was forced to evacuate several times.

"A year ago they told us that the war was over when the ceasefire was declared. But for us, it doesn't feel like the war is over at all." His story includes the families still living in tents, the scarcity of electricity and the difficulties in accessing care. For thousands of patients, he explains, leaving Gaza remains a question of life and death, while building materials are lacking and there are no quick solutions.

"Along the road to work there are makeshift tents that have stood for over two years. The families who live there have endured extreme heat, heavy rain, strong winds, bombings."

The war also left profound marks on children: "Over 98% of schools were destroyed and many of those that remained became shelters." In the child-friendly spaces, says Shurouq, the little ones can go back to playing, but even that normality has a different form today: "The children's happiness was overwhelming: they seemed to have discovered a world of wonders! But that world of wonders was a tent." Then there is his normality, that of Shurouq and his daughter. With the little girl she continues to live in fear and reacts to noises that remind her of the war. And it is in his personal experience that he summarizes the balance of this year: "A year has passed since the ceasefire. But my daughter is still without a father. My house is still a pile of rubble. The city where I have spent my whole life has become a place that I struggle to recognize."