“I just want this war to end so we can go back to our lives and to our homes.” These were the first words 73-year-old Ridha shared as she began recounting her displacement ordeal that began more than a year ago.
Shortly after 7 October 2023, heavy strikes forced Ridha to flee from her home east of Gaza City, seeking refuge with her son in the Tel al-Hawa neighbourhood, west of Gaza City.
“I left behind all my clothes and personal belongings. I couldn’t bring anything with me. I didn’t even have time to put on my shoes,” she says.
Ridha has been forced to move more than 15 times in the past 12 months. “Some days, we moved twice from one house to another because of the intense shelling. We walked for hours, searching for safety,” she recalls.
Each time she had to abandon what felt like refuge, her heart broke a little more. “But this is war,” she adds. “There is no safe place in Gaza. Even the places that escape the bombs are eventually hit by ground invasions, hunger, and the suffocating siege.”
Home, reduced to rubble
Her family home, which has been bombed and bulldozed, was a symbol of her life. “My house, the family home, was three stories tall. In my eyes, it was the most beautiful house I have ever seen. It was built in the 1920’s—stone by stone. I lived there for 50 years.“
During a brief truce, Ridha managed to return, hoping to see her home. What she found was heart-wrenching. “It was completely destroyed—not a single stone was left. The house was leveled, along with all the memories.” She adds, her voice trembling, “I didn’t even recognise the street. Every landmark in the area had changed.”
The weight of grief and loss
“I weep for the women whose husbands were killed in their prime, for the young widows, and for the children who were orphaned for no reason. My heart breaks for my homeland, for the prisoners, and for the men who’ve lost their limbs. I’m grieving for everything in this war.”
Like so many others in Gaza, Ridha’s family has been deeply affected by the war. She has lost loved ones, others have been wounded, and some have been detained. She has endured all sorts of suffering. “This year has been the worst of my life,” she says.
With a heavy heart, she places her hand on her chest and whispers, “I lost my grandson, Adam. I loved him more than all my children. My heart burns for him—he was in the prime of his life. I cry for him every day.”
A plea for peace and dignity
Ridha’s wish is simple. “I hope the world will see us as human beings who deserve to live with dignity and peace. Enough of wars, enough of displacement and despair. We want to return to our homes, to our memories, to the safety we once knew.”
“We have endured a year of unimaginable loss. We’ve lost our homes, our loved ones, and our sense of normalcy. We want this suffering to end. We want to rebuild our lives, far from the destruction and fear. We dream of stability, of the simple life that was taken from us.”
