Gaza City – When Israel’s war began, families in Gaza faced the agonising decision to remain in the north or head south to advertised “safe zones”. Many women who went south, sometimes on their own with small children, were forced to leave their husbands behind, not knowing when their families would be reunited.
Since October, the Israeli army has set up checkpoints on Salah al-Din Street and al-Rasheed Street – the only major routes connecting northern and southern Gaza – preventing movement between the areas.
The destiny of tens of thousands of people who were displaced from the north to the south remains shrouded in uncertainty. Many yearn for a swift return to their homes and loved ones whom they were compelled to leave behind.
Here are three women’s stories of forced separation:
‘Will I ever see Abed again? I doubt it’: Raheel
When the conflict first began, newlywed Raheel, 27, was heartbroken at the idea of leaving her husband Abdel Kareem, also known as “Abed”, behind in Gaza City. However Israeli forces promised safe movement to the south, and her father was insistent that she leave.
“I dread wars. My body trembles at every explosion,” Raheel confessed.
She had sought refuge at her aunt’s house in Nasser, a western neighbourhood of Gaza City. However, on October 13, Israeli army leaflets urged civilians to evacuate the city as it planned to “operate significantly” there in the coming days.
Trusting these orders, Raheel’s father insisted that she, her five sisters, two brothers and their mother move south, despite his intention to remain at home in the Tuffah neighbourhood. “You should be wherever your sisters are,” he told her.
Although the south was perceived as safe, Raheel was torn about leaving the city. Communication disruptions meant that she couldn’t notify her husband who was staying with his elderly parents – they were unable to make the journey south.
Raheel eventually left without being able to say goodbye to Abdel Kareem. “I thought it would be just a matter of time, and I will return to my home very soon,” she explained. “I didn’t know the war would last this long, with no indications that it would ever end,” adding that, “I thought heading south would protect me.”
Raheel’s journey south was fraught with fear and uncertainty. Moving from Gaza City to Khan Younis to Rafah to al-Mawasi and then back to Khan Younis again, she faced the hardships of forced displacement and living in overcrowded shelters with scarce resources. With each step away from home, Raheel felt the immense weight of her separation from her husband and father. Worrying about her loved ones suffering from severe food shortages and arbitrary Israeli raids and bombings further amplified that despair.
Married just a year before the war, Raheel had once dreamed of starting a family. But she grew to find solace in being childless amid such chaos. “I thank God every day that I don’t have a baby to worry about in these conditions. The fear would be unbearable,” she shared.
In June, she learned that her brother-in-law was killed during a military operation in Shujayea in Gaza City. “For the first time, I wished I had stayed in Gaza City to support my husband,” Raheel said. “I feel helpless being so far away. Will I ever see Abed? I doubt it.”
Many nights, when there are communication outages, Raheel lies awake, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her phone and prays for a message from her husband or father. The sound of bombs in the distance is a constant reminder of the peril they face. “I can’t describe the pain of not knowing if they are safe or if I will ever see them again,” she said.
Despite the dire circumstances, Raheel remains resilient, taking on the role of caregiver and protector for her mother and sisters — even as her own heart breaks. “I have to stay strong for them,” she said. “We have to believe that one day, we will be reunited with our loved ones and rebuild our lives.”
‘Not knowing his fate is the hardest part’: Walaa
Walaa, a mother of three, faced a similar dilemma. Urged by her husband to seek safety for their young children, they all fled their home in Shati refugee camp, also known as Beach Camp, in western Gaza City for a relative’s house in central Gaza. After enduring relentless bombings, the couple agonised over whether to stay together or separate for safety. On November 14, Walaa took their children south while her husband Ahmed stayed to care for his injured father.
In southern Gaza, 31-year-old Walaa struggled. She had to become both a mother and a father while navigating the hardships of life and scarce resources in southern Gaza.
“No one can care for my children like their parents,” she said. “Every night, they cried, wanting to see their father and ensure his safety. I cannot help but try to calm them down.”
Communication blackouts have made staying in touch nearly impossible.
The children often ask about their father, their innocence piercing Walaa’s heart. She tries to comfort them, assuring them that they will be reunited soon, but she herself harbours doubts. “They tell me they miss their father, and I tell them I miss him too. But there is nothing we can do,” she said in a desperate tone.
Often, Walaa finds herself unable to sleep, consumed with worry for her husband. “I feel like a part of me is missing,” she confessed. “Not knowing his fate is the hardest part.”
After eight months of separation, the idea of reuniting with her husband has become a distant dream. “I feel regret. I regret the day we decided to leave the north,” Walaa lamented.
‘I saw them beat my husband and drag him away’: Doaa
Unlike Walaa and Raheel, Doaa and her husband Abdullah decided to stay in northern Gaza, believing nowhere was truly safe. They moved from their house near the Port of Gaza to the area near Yarmouk Square in the Jalaa neighbourhood.
Despite the advancing Israeli tanks, the couple believed their civilian status would protect them, so they remained in place. “We had no relationship to Hamas or any other party,” Doaa confirmed.
Their hope was shattered when the Israeli army invaded the area, terrorising women and children, torturing the elderly and kidnapping the men. In the place they were staying, Doaa witnessed Abdullah, her father-in-law and brother-in-law being tortured and taken away.
The memory of that day haunts her. “They stormed in without warning,” she recounted, her voice breaking. “I saw them beat my husband and drag him away. My father-in-law was also taken. We were helpless.”
For almost 60 days, Doaa had no contact with Abdullah, who was transferred to Israeli prisons. Uncertainty and fear gnawed at her every day. “The nights were the hardest,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep, imagining all the horrors he might be facing.”
When he was finally released in the south, Doaa and her almost 21-month-old daughter were still in the north. However, the Israeli army was not permitting anyone to travel to northern Gaza. “Lolo was almost one when he was arrested. I doubt he would recognise her if he ever saw her,” Doaa said, tears welling up in her eyes.
Adapting to the harsh reality of life without him, Doaa became the sole caregiver and provider for their daughter. The responsibility of ensuring Lolo’s safety and wellbeing was overwhelming. “I had to be strong for her,” Doaa explained. “There was no other choice.” She relies on her family, with whom she continues to move from one place to another, escaping death in the north of Gaza.
As Doaa’s heart aches to see her husband soon, she also mourns their beautiful home, lost to Israeli raids. Everything, she said, reminds her of her husband.
“We carry on because we have to,” Doaa said. “For our children, for our families, we have no other choice.”
