Life inside a refugee tent in northern Gaza

 

Life Inside a Refugee Tent in Northern Gaza: A Day in the Shadows of Survival

In the heart of Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza, life unfolds in fragments — moments of exhaustion, glimmers of hope, and an ongoing battle for survival. What was once a vibrant community has transformed into a landscape of tattered tarpaulins, crumbling walls, and scattered belongings that tell tales of lost homes and interrupted dreams.

A World Shrunken to a Tent

For 29-year-old Esraa, life used to revolve around art, work, and digital connections. She sold beautifully painted glass ceramics online and juggled small digital marketing projects from her cozy apartment in Gaza City. Now, her entire existence is crammed into a three-by-four-meter tent, shared with her two children, mother, and a cousin.

The thin plastic sheets flap in the wind, providing scant protection from the chilly nights or the sweltering midday sun. Rain seeps in through makeshift patches of old clothes. Yet, this fragile structure remains her family’s only sanctuary from the violence that looms outside.

> “We used to dream about our future,” Esraa reflects softly. “Now, our conversations revolve around where to find bread or clean water.”

The Struggle for Basics

Life in the camp is a daily routine of scarcity. Water trickles from shared taps only every few days. Electricity is a rare treat — a fleeting flicker of light when a small generator hums for an hour or two. Food distribution trucks make sporadic visits, often met with chaos and long lines that can stretch for half a day.

Children play with sticks and stones among the rubble, their laughter a haunting echo of innocence amidst the destruction. “They still manage to find reasons to smile,” says Mahmoud, a teacher who now volunteers to lead informal classes in the camp. “Maybe they’re the ones teaching us about resilience.”

The Invisible Battle

Beyond the obvious struggles of hunger and displacement, there’s a hidden adversary — trauma. Psychologists collaborating with humanitarian organizations report a troubling prevalence of post-traumatic stress symptoms, particularly among children. Nightmares, a fear of loud noises, and anxiety over separation have woven themselves into the fabric of everyday life.

Mothers like Esraa are doing their best to keep their families emotionally afloat. “When the bombs stop, the silence is even more haunting,” she shares. “In that silence, you’re reminded of everything you’ve lost.”

Humanity Amid Rubble

Even amidst the chaos, small acts of kindness shine like little beacons in the dark. Neighbors come together to share meals, volunteers set up makeshift kitchens, and teenagers gather scraps to create stoves. Faith and community have become as essential for survival as food and water.

> “We are broken, but not defeated,” says an elderly man who has called Jabalia home since he was a child. “We rebuild, even if it’s just a tent.”

A Cry Beyond Borders

The plight of Gaza’s tents transcends local tragedy — it reflects a global issue. Each tent stands as a symbol of displacement, calling for attention, empathy, and accountability. Behind every statistic is a story like Esraa’s — ordinary lives ensnared in extraordinary suffering.

As night blankets the camp, the soft glow of candlelight flickers in the darkness. Inside the tents, families murmur prayers — for peace, for a return, for a dawn that will finally bring safety.