In Khan Younis, Gaza, 72-year-old Fati Abu Said, leaning on a wooden cane, navigates the rubble-strewn streets of the al-Katiba neighborhood. Since the Gaza ceasefire on January 19th, he has made this a daily routine, returning from displacement in the coastal al-Mawasi area. He carefully steps over the ruins left by 15 months of relentless Israeli bombardment, raising his cane to point at a destroyed house.
"Do you see that pile of useless rubble?" he asks. "It is more precious than America and everything America has."
His audience is a group of children, including some of his 50 children and grandchildren, who listen intently, unfazed by the forecast of heavy rain and strong winds. Other children join them – children from displaced families who have also returned, not to intact homes, but to the ruins of what once was. With nowhere else to go, they begin to rebuild their lives amidst the debris.
Every morning, Abu Said exchanges words of resilience with his neighbors. But today, recent remarks by US President Donald Trump regarding Gaza – his fantasy of clearing the Palestinian population to build a "Middle Eastern Riviera" – provide fresh fodder for his sarcasm and contempt. Abu Said scoffs: "Trump speaks as if he is a king distributing land. Perhaps he should move his Israeli friends somewhere other than Palestine and leave Gaza in peace."
Trump's remarks, which outlined a plan to relocate Palestinians from Gaza elsewhere while the US would "take over" and "own" the territory, have led to widespread condemnation. Standing beside Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who faces an International Criminal Court (ICC) arrest warrant for war crimes in Gaza, Trump claimed Palestinians deserve better than their supposed "bad luck."
US Secretary of State Marco Rubio attempted Wednesday to walk back Trump's claim that Palestinians would be "permanently" resettled, saying they would need to live elsewhere "temporarily" during the enclave's reconstruction. Over 60% of Gaza's infrastructure, including hospitals, universities, and schools, has been destroyed during 15 months of Israeli bombardment. Under previous US administrations, Washington has been Israel's biggest backer, providing $17.9 billion in military aid in the war's first year alone – the highest annual total ever.
"These are the words of a madman," Abu Said says. "As we Arabs say: 'If the speaker is crazy, let the listener be wise.' This man knows nothing of home, struggle, defiance, pride, or Palestine."
Abu Said dismissively rejects Trump's comments as absurd, shaking his head. "This is the most beautiful fantasy ever uttered by a world leader," he says, alternating between disbelief and laughter. "Any sane person who knows the Palestinians understands that leaving our homes is like death itself. Does Trump really think we would pack up and leave after all this?"
For Abu Said, the idea of mass displacement is deeply personal. His father was driven from Jaffa – now part of Israel – by Zionist militias during Israel's creation in 1948, and his mother's family was expelled from the nearby village of Sarafand. He grew up on stories of the first catastrophe – the Nakba – and is now living through another.
"We already know what it means to lose everything," he says, gesturing at the ruins. "But we also know what it means to hold on." The war has displaced 90% of Gaza's 2.3 million population. Many have returned, but not to intact homes, but to rubble – clearing debris, salvaging what they can, or erecting tents on the ruins.
"Even in the face of genocide, we have not left," Abu Said's voice is firm. "It's not just because we have nowhere to go – this is our home. Our land. Every brick here is more valuable to us than anything America can offer."
For a week, Trump has been pressuring Egypt and Jordan to absorb Gaza's population, touting his reconstruction plan as a job-creation project. But even his allies in Cairo, Riyadh, Abu Dhabi, and elsewhere have flatly rejected the idea.
"Trump must think we live in a hotel he can close down," Abu Said says with a laugh. "But Gaza is not a real estate project – it is our land." He taps the rubble with his cane. "This land is mixed with our sweat and our blood. No one here will leave – no matter the threats or the promises."
Sitting on a pile of rubble, surrounded by eager children, Abu Said turns to his 10-year-old grandson, Mohammed, and grins. "Trump says we should leave Gaza and move to Egypt or Jordan. What do you think?"
The boy bursts out laughing. "Is he crazy or just stupid? Why would we leave? Gaza is part of Palestine!" Other children chime in, their voices rising: "Who leaves their home? We will stay, rebuild, and fight for it."
Abu Said chuckles. "There's your answer, Trump. Even our children understand more than you do." Throughout the war, Israel's bombing, starvation tactics, and attacks on hospitals have killed more than 17,400 children, leaving thousands more orphaned.
"What is this logic?" Abu Said asks. "They starve us, bomb us, and then act surprised when we refuse to leave?"
He invokes the unbreakable bond between Palestinians and their land, adding: "You know what will never happen again? Us leaving." He believes Trump doesn't understand Palestinians or their struggle. "Israel was founded on the lie of 'a land without a people'," he says. "But we are here, and we will stay."
His eyes narrow. "For Trump, as for Netanyahu, the only solution is for the Palestinians to disappear." Abu Said straightens his back, despite his age, and says: "But we won't."