{"id":3381,"date":"2025-10-19T11:38:46","date_gmt":"2025-10-19T11:38:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/2025\/10\/19\/in-gaza-palestinians-reclaim-small-moments-of-dignity-amid-the-ceasefire\/"},"modified":"2025-10-19T11:38:46","modified_gmt":"2025-10-19T11:38:46","slug":"in-gaza-palestinians-reclaim-small-moments-of-dignity-amid-the-ceasefire","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/2025\/10\/19\/in-gaza-palestinians-reclaim-small-moments-of-dignity-amid-the-ceasefire\/","title":{"rendered":"In Gaza, Palestinians reclaim small moments of dignity amid the ceasefire"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Deir el-Balah, Gaza<\/strong> \u2014 Late on October 8, 2025, while everyone else in the house was asleep, I lay awake scrolling through my phone and journalist chat groups for updates. There were conflicting accounts from the ceasefire talks \u2014 of progress, setbacks, hope and doubt.<\/p>\n

As my phone battery dwindled, I finally drifted off to sleep, stirred occasionally by distant shelling that told me what my phone couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

When I awoke just before dawn on October 9, my wi-fi was dead. I rushed to the roof, searching for an eSIM signal. The sun was rising as updates loaded onto my phone, and there it was: \u201cAnnouncement of a ceasefire agreement in Gaza \u2014 to take effect within hours.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the houses and tents where everyone still slept, saddened that we were the last to know. Then joy hit me. \u201cWake up, the war is over,\u201d I shouted.<\/p>\n

\u201cSwear it?\u201d my husband said. It was around 6:45am, and he was only half awake. I showed him the headlines, and gradually, the rest of the house, including my father, sisters, and my brother and his family, awoke to the news. They had all been staying with me since being displaced from the north. Everyone was in disbelief, but my daughter Banias, nine, beamed.<\/p>\n

\u201cReally? Are you serious?\u201d she asked, before she jumped with happiness, tears rolling down her cheeks.<\/p>\n

A little girl crying from joy.<\/p>\n

\"Maram
Maram Humaid, right, with her daughter Banias, left, at home in Deir el-Balah, Gaza, just after the ceasefire was announced [Courtesy of Maram Humaid]<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Islam\u2019s wedding blessing<\/h2>\n

Banias\u2019s happiness suddenly reminded me that it was also my friend Islam\u2019s wedding day. Just two days earlier, Islam had visited me at home with her sister-in-law to discuss the wedding. She had been engaged during the first truce in February 2025, but the wedding had been postponed five times.<\/p>\n

Just a week earlier, she had lost all of her belongings when her family fled south from the Shati refugee camp in western Gaza City amid air raids. Her fiance\u2019s family was also displaced. It was at that point that the couple decided to get married on October 9, with the families agreeing to hold a small, quiet ceremony to move forward with their lives.<\/p>\n

But when I saw Islam on October 7, she was worried. She couldn\u2019t find a dress. \u201cThe dresses are worn out \u2026 covered in dust and fading white,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Her sister-in-law, Manar, promised they\u2019d find one, but Islam sighed, saying, \u201cI don\u2019t feel like a bride. I feel like I\u2019m caught in a whirlpool.\u201d When her fiance called that day to say he still hadn\u2019t found a place to pitch their tent, she looked defeated.<\/p>\n

Still, she wanted her small celebration. \u201cThat\u2019s all I want,\u201d Islam told me. \u201cMy wedding feels like a day of mourning, not happiness.\u201d<\/p>\n

But she had been wrong.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe ceasefire came on your wedding day, my friend. What a rare blessing,\u201d I thought.<\/p>\n

\"Journalists
(L) Journalists and families gather in the courtyard of the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir el-Balah to celebrate the announcement of the ceasefire. (R) People gather at al-Nuwairi Hill, west of the Nuseirat refugee camp in central Gaza, located along al-Rashid Street, the main coastal road connecting the south and north [Abdelhakim Abu Riash\/Al Jazeera]<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u2018The last hours of the war\u2019<\/h2>\n

I quickly got dressed for my walk to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir el-Balah, where journalists gather to cover the latest developments.<\/p>\n

The streets were buzzing with news about the ceasefire. Some people had doubts, others smiled with cautious hope. I kept thinking, \u201cCould these really be the last hours of the war?\u201d<\/p>\n

At the hospital, journalists and cameras lined the courtyard.<\/p>\n

My colleague Nour smiled. \u201cFinally,\u201d she sighed. Nour hadn\u2019t seen her children \u2014 Alia, 14, and Jamal, 11 \u2014 for a year and a half, having sent them to safety in Egypt while she stayed to cover the war. A ceasefire carried the hope that she might soon be reunited with them.<\/p>\n

Displaced people and residents started to gather around us, asking if the news was true.<\/p>\n

A 30-something woman I\u2019d seen during my visits to Al Jazeera\u2019s tent at Al-Aqsa Hospital during the first half of the war greeted me. She was there to visit a sister who had been injured in a bombing.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey say there\u2019s a ceasefire and the war is over? Is this true?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

Other displaced women overheard and wanted their own assurances. \u201cSo it\u2019s certain?\u201d they asked.<\/p>\n

The sounds of jets overhead made everyone anxious, but by midday, Israel\u2019s cabinet had ratified the agreement, and it started to feel real.<\/p>\n

A displaced woman from Beit Hanoon told me, \u201cWe\u2019re relieved the bombing stopped, but we don\u2019t feel joy. What joy is there when we\u2019ve lost everything? Our homes are gone. Our city is destroyed.\u201d<\/p>\n

After two years of relentless bombardment, people were exhausted.<\/p>\n

In the afternoon, I headed towards al-Nuwairi Hill near the Nuseirat refugee camp in central Gaza. Thousands had gathered there on the sandy hill with their belongings, waiting to be allowed to travel north to their neighbourhoods in Gaza City.<\/p>\n

One woman with three children sat on her bundles and said she\u2019d wait all night for permission to return. She didn\u2019t know if her house still stood, but for her and many others, the ceasefire meant one thing: a chance to return.<\/p>\n

Every house now had one of two fates: standing or destroyed. \u201cStanding\u201d brought tears of joy, even if bombed or hollowed out. \u201cDestroyed\u201d meant heartbreak.<\/p>\n

\"Maram
Maram Humaid poses with the newlyweds, Islam and Mohammad [Courtesy of Maram Humaid]<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Celebrations in an empty shop<\/h2>\n

After a day of interviews, I still had time to attend Islam\u2019s wedding, which was held in an empty shop in the Nuseirat camp. One of Islam\u2019s relatives had rented the shop to shelter his newly displaced family just days earlier.<\/p>\n

When I entered, a small group of women sat on plastic chairs arranged neatly along the unfinished walls. In the centre stood a simple \u201ckousha\u201d, an old brown couch where Islam sat with her new husband, Mohammad.<\/p>\n

The cheerful beat of wedding music filled the room.<\/p>\n

It was a small, humble celebration, and Islam glowed with joy. The shop buzzed with ululations and laughter.<\/p>\n

I hugged Islam and said, \u201cSee, the war ended on your wedding day, the day you called unlucky. It\u2019s a blessed day now, my friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

I greeted her groom, joking, \u201cI just came from al-Nuwairi Hill. People are already there. Are you planning to go back north?\u201d<\/p>\n

He laughed, \u201cIf that\u2019s true, I\u2019ll take my bride and head north right now!\u201d<\/p>\n

I took a shared taxi on the way back home and listened as my fellow passengers debated the ceasefire. Many feared it wouldn\u2019t hold, and everyone saw the first phase \u2014 the exchange of captives and prisoners \u2014 as a test.<\/p>\n

Chocolate and cooking gas<\/h2>\n

For most Palestinians in Gaza, the past week has been a mix of relief, fear, and anticipation.<\/p>\n

On that first calm Thursday, people began returning north, often to ruins. At my house, we debated whether to stay or return. On Saturday, calls confirmed that our family home, my husband\u2019s, and my brother\u2019s were all destroyed. We weren\u2019t surprised \u2014 it was the same story for thousands.<\/p>\n

I had already lived through that loss. Our home was destroyed a year and a half ago, and I\u2019d already started anew in rented accommodation, which saved us from the uncertainty and heartbreak that so many others now felt.<\/p>\n

By Sunday, discussions about returning continued. My father was eager to go back, but we decided to wait, especially as the prisoner exchanges began.<\/p>\n

Life in Gaza remains nearly impossible \u2014 no water, services, communication, or power. A neighbour who went north warned us to stay put, telling us he had to walk a long way just to fetch water.<\/p>\n

Then came devastating news: the assassination of Saleh Aljafarawi<\/a>, a journalist and activist who had covered the war. He was murdered by local Israeli-backed militia amid clashes with Hamas.<\/p>\n

Saleh\u2019s death terrified us. Many fear it signalled Gaza\u2019s next looming tragedy \u2014 that internal violence could finish what the Israeli army began.<\/p>\n

On Monday, attention turned to the prisoner exchanges. Families rejoiced and wept. One mother danced when both her sons, thought dead, were released. Another man broke down after learning his wife and children had been killed. And in a bitter irony, Saleh\u2019s brother Naji was released from prison the same day Saleh was buried.<\/p>\n

By Tuesday, food prices began to drop. My daughter ran home, excited: \u201cMama, the chocolate that used to cost 18 shekels [$5.4] now costs six!\u201d Then, true joy arrived \u2014 cooking gas. My husband read a message from the gas station, telling me, \u201cGet the stove ready, you\u2019ll cook on gas today for the first time in nine months!\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Maram's
Maram\u2019s family enjoys cooking with gas again after going nine months without [Courtesy of Maram Humaid]<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u2018A small piece of dignity\u2019<\/h2>\n

We pulled out the old stove, thick with grease and dust, and scrubbed it clean. When the first blue flame lit, we clapped and laughed, recording the moment on our phones like fireworks. Our first coffee brewed on a clean flame \u2014 rather than on firewood with black soot \u2014 felt miraculous. My father smiled over his cup.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re reclaiming a small piece of dignity,\u201d I thought.<\/p>\n

By Wednesday, calm returned. I cooked pasta in 20 minutes instead of two hours. It tasted like \u201cnormal life\u201d. But on Thursday, my father again raised the issue of returning. He spoke of building a small shelter among our ruins. I told him we should wait a bit longer. There were already accounts of Palestinians being killed by Israeli forces as they tried to return to their homes.<\/p>\n

He nodded slowly, agreeing. \u201cI can live with ruins,\u201d he said, \u201cbut not without safety.\u201d<\/p>\n

As I listened to him, I thought about stories yet to tell \u2014 the people returning to rubble, trying to build new lives. I had to wait for the solar panels to charge before writing, since that\u2019s our only source of power. \u201cUnplug everything!\u201d my husband often shouts. My new wish, alongside the return of gas, is for real electricity \u2014 an end to this daily war of energy and exhaustion.<\/p>\n

When I finally began to write again, a quiet thought struck me. People may read these words, but do they know the conditions in which they\u2019re written? Do they know the deep, unending struggle behind every word?<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Deir el-Balah, Gaza \u2014 Late on October 8, 2025, while everyone else in the house was asleep, I lay awake scrolling through my phone and journalist chat groups for updates. There were conflicting accounts from the ceasefire talks \u2014 of progress, setbacks, hope and doubt. As my phone battery dwindled, I finally drifted off to … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3382,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3381","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-travel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3381","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3381"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3381\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3382"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3381"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3381"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pronews.in\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3381"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}