By Anas Baba
Rafah, Gaza, Mar 12 (EFE).- As Ramadan unfolds in Gaza, the air is heavy with memories of past celebrations during the Muslim months of fasting, now shattered by the conflict.
In makeshift camps and amid the ruins of neighborhoods, the Gazans grapple with a somber reality devoid of tradition and festivity.
The residents of Gaza have resigned to enduring a fractured Ramadan with empty tables, absent gatherings of family and friends, and the haunting memories of losses inflicted by the Israeli Army.
They place their fate in the hands of Allah, feeling abandoned by humanity.
“From the first day of Ramadan, the streets used to be alive with holiday-like fervor,” remembers Ali Ahmad Asfur, amid the desolation of plastic tents in one of Rafah’s numerous camps where 1.4 million displaced people are crammed.
“There were daily visits, gatherings at neighbors’ homes. It was one of our most cherished traditions,” he recalls of the Ramadan traditions in Gaza.
Recalling a Gaza that exists no more, Asfur, 50, nostalgically describes how the Palestinian strip was once the epitome of Ramadan spirit, adorned with decorations, and abuzz with celebration throughout the month.
“We used to prepare special dishes for the ‘suhur’ and ‘iftar,’ the tables adorned with sweets and ‘kanafe,'” said Mohamed Barakat, another displaced person who fled Khan Yunis during the conflict.
No longer are these celebrations a reality.
“But those days are gone, traditions lost to the past. For the past 20 days, we’ve been drinking bitter tea as sugar is a luxury we can’t afford. A kilo costs $25,” said Barakat, who regrets being unable to afford shoes for his barefoot children this year.
As an ambulance siren wails in the distance and the ceaseless buzz of an Israeli drone fills the air, Barakat, clad in a torn blue sweater, recounts his futile search for shoes.
“This Ramadan is unlike any other. Death looms over us, casting a shadow over any semblance of festivity.”
Asfur gestures towards the surrounding tents, each bearing its own tale of loss. “That family has martyrs, that tent mourns a martyr, in the next, a wife is missing. I have lost 19 loved ones.”
Despite the despair, Amer, a 42-year-old seamstress, refuses to let go of the festive spirit. Around her tent, she has hung makeshift decorations, striving to recreate the ambiance of Ramadan for her children.
However, hope seems distant.
“The world is merciless. The war has shown that no one cares about the fate of Gazans. The world only cares about its own interests,” Barakat said.
Yet, Asfur clings to hope, believing the international community will intervene and end the war.
“Ramadan is shattered this year,” said Mahmud Zohro, 26, surrounded by the remnants of his past life now crammed in a plastic tent.
“In every household, there’s grief and destruction. My brother, his son, a friend, two uncles… all lost. It’s the most horrific war we’ve endured,” he says, clutching the key to his now-destroyed home in Khan Yunis. “It’s nothing but rubble now.” EFE
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