Gazans face tough choices as their future is debated on global stage

Looking down on Jabalia from the air, the scene is shocking. The once-thriving refugee camp has now become a vast, Hiroshima-like wasteland. Twisted and deformed building remains are scattered across the churned-up land, some at unbelievable angles.

Huge piles of rubble accumulate like waves, making it almost impossible to recognize the geography of this once-crowded refugee camp. However, as the drone camera sweeps across these ruins, blue and white tent camps can be seen appearing in open spaces.

People climb over broken buildings, walk along muddy streets, and makeshift food markets gradually emerge under tin roofs and canvas awnings. Children even use collapsed roofs as slides to play on. Six weeks after a fragile ceasefire agreement took effect in Gaza, Jabalia is slowly coming back to life.

In the al-Qasasib neighborhood, Nabil returned to his four-story building, which miraculously still stands, although it lacks windows, doors, and even walls in some places. He and his relatives built simple balconies with wooden pallets and used tarpaulins to shield themselves from the wind and rain.

"Look at this destruction," he said, standing at a huge gap in the floor, overlooking the sea of ruins in Jabalia. "Do they want us to leave without rebuilding? How can we leave? We must at least rebuild our homes for our children." To cook, Nabil lit a fire on the bare stairs, carefully using shredded cardboard to start the flame.

On another floor, Laila Ahmed Okasha washed herself in a sink, but the faucet had been without water for months. "There is no water, electricity, or sewage treatment," she said. "If we need water, we have to go far away to fetch it." She said she cried when she returned home and found it destroyed. She blamed Israel and Hamas for destroying the world she once knew. "Both sides are responsible," she said. "We used to live a decent and comfortable life."

Shortly after the war began in October 2023, Israel told Palestinians in the northern Gaza Strip, including Jabalia, to move south for their safety. Hundreds of thousands heeded the warning, but many chose to stay, determined to weather the war. Laila and her husband, Marwan, held out until last November, when Israeli forces invaded Jabalia again, claiming that Hamas had rebuilt combat units within the camp's narrow streets. After seeking refuge in the nearby Shati camp for two months, Laila and Marwan returned to find Jabalia almost unrecognizable. "When we came back and saw it destroyed like this, I didn't want to stay here anymore," Marwan said. "I used to live well, but now it's like being in hell. If I had the chance to leave, I would go, I wouldn't want to stay for another minute."

To stay or to leave? The future of Gaza's civilians is now the subject of international debate. This February, Donald Trump suggested that the United States should take over Gaza and that the nearly two million Palestinian residents should leave, possibly forever. Faced with strong protests from the international community and strong opposition from Arab leaders, Trump subsequently appeared to abandon the plan, saying he was only making a suggestion but would not force anyone. Meanwhile, Egypt is leading Arab countries in an effort to propose a viable alternative, which will be presented at an emergency Arab summit in Cairo on Tuesday. Crucially, it believes that the Palestinian people should stay in Gaza while the region is rebuilt.

Donald Trump's intervention stirred up the notoriously stubborn side of Gazans. "If Trump wants us to leave, I will stay in Gaza," Laila said. "I want to travel according to my own will. I won't leave because of him."

Across the street, a nine-story yellow apartment building is so badly damaged that it is unbelievable that it has not collapsed. The top floor has completely collapsed, threatening the rest of the building. Over time, it will certainly be demolished, but for now it remains home to more families. Sheets hang in the windows, and clothes are drying in the winter sun. Most incongruously, outside a makeshift plastic doorway in the corner of the ground floor, next to piles of rubble and garbage, stands a headless mannequin wearing a wedding dress. That is Sana Abu Ishbak's clothing store.

The 45-year-old seamstress, a mother of 11 children, opened the store two years before the outbreak of the war, but had to abandon it when she fled south in November 2023. She returned immediately after the ceasefire agreement was announced. She and her husband and daughters have been busy clearing the debris from the store, hanging clothes on hangers, and preparing to open for business. "I love Jabalia camp," she said, "I will not leave it until I die."

Sana and Laila seem equally determined to stay as much as possible. However, their tone is different when they talk about young people. "She doesn't even know how to write her own name," Laila said of her granddaughter. "There is no education in Gaza." The little girl's mother was killed in the war. Laila said she still talks to her at night. "She is my soul, she left her daughter in my hands. If I have the chance to travel, I will do it for my granddaughter."