Stay or go? Ghazans have to face difficult choices because their future is debated on a global stage

The wind is breathtaking.

A Hiroshima -like barren land extends to where the eye can see. The churning bodies of the buildings doted the churning-up landscape, bending to some crazy angles.

Great unspecified waves of debris create all this, but it is impossible to exclude the geography of the tightly packed refugee camp.

And yet, as a drone camera blows on the debris, it removes blue and white splashes where small tent camps are installed in an open field patch.

And the figures, climbing on broken buildings, walking along the streets of dirt, where the food markets are spring under the tin roof and canvas avaning. Children using a collapsed roof as a slide.

After more than six weeks of Gaza’s delicate ceasefire, Jabia is slowly coming back to life.

In the neighborhood of Al -Kasasib, Nabil has returned to a four -floor house, which is still standing, even if it is lacking windows, doors and some places – lack of walls.

He and his relatives have created raw balconies with wooden palettes and tung-up tarplin to keep the elements out.

“Look at the destruction,” he states that he surveys the ocean of ruins of Khandia from an upper floor.

“They want we leave it without reconstruction? How can we leave. At least we can rebuild it for our children.”

To cook food, Nabil set fire to the bare ladder, stocked it carefully with pieces of torn cardboard.

On another floor, Laila Ahmed Okasha washed in a sink, where the tap was dry months ago.

“There is no water, electricity or sewage,” she says. “If we need water, we have to go to a distance to fill the buckets.”

She says she cries when she returned home and ruined her.

She blames Israel and Hamas for destroying the world she once knew.

“They are both responsible,” she says. “We had a decent, comfortable life.”

Soon after the war began in October 2023, Israel told Palestinians in the northern part of the Gaza Strip – when including Jaballia – to move south for its safety.

Hundreds of thousands of people focused on the warning, but many people were firm to ride war.

Laila and her husband Marwan until October last year, when the Israeli army resumed Jabalia, said that Hamas had reorganized the units of the fight inside the narrow roads of the camp.

After two months of refuge at the nearby Shati camp, Leela and Marwan returned to find Jabalia almost unfamiliar.

“When we came back and saw how it was destroyed, I no longer wanted to live here,” says Marwan.

“I had a wonderful life, but now it’s a hell. If I have a chance to leave, I will go. I will not stay another minute.”

Stay or go? The future of Gaza’s civilian population is now a matter of international debate.

In February, Donald Trump suggested that America should capture Gaza and leave about two million Palestinian residents, possibly for good.

With international resentment and fierce opposition to Arab leaders, Trump later asked to withdraw from the plan, saying he recommended it but would not force it to anyone.

Meanwhile, Egypt on Tuesday led Arab attempts to come up with a viable option to be presented at an emergency Arab Summit in Cairo.

Seriously, it states that the Palestinian population should remain inside the Gaza while the area is rebuilt.

Donald Trump’s intervention has brought out the famous stubborn side of Gaza.

“If Trump wants to give us a holiday, I will be in Gaza,” Laila says. “I want to travel on my freedom. I will not leave because of that.”

The way the nine-storey of the flats sits in a yellow block, so it is brilliantly damaged, it is difficult to assume that it has not collapsed.

The upper floors have completely threatened, threatening the rest. In time, it must definitely have to be demolished, but now it is still home for more families. The windows have sheets and there is a hanging washing to dry in late winter sun.

Most inconsistently, at one corner of the ground, outside a corner of a temporary plastic door on one corner, next to a corner of the ground, stands a headless effigy, wearing a wedding gown.

This is Sana Abu Ishabak’s dress shop.

The mother of 45 -year -old Seamstress, 11, established a business two years before the war, but had to leave it when she fled the south in November 2023.

She returned as soon as she announced the ceasefire. Along with her husband and daughters, she is busy cleaning the debris from the shop, arranging clothes on the hangar and getting ready for business.

“I love the Jabia camp,” she says, “and I will not leave it until I die.”

Sana and Laila are equally firm to stay equally if they can. But both women speak differently when they talk about the youth.

“She doesn’t even know how to write her name,” Laila says about her granddaughter.

“There is no education in Gaza.”

The mother of the little girl died during the war. Laila says that she still talks to her at night.

“He was the soul of my soul and left his daughter in my hands. If I have a chance to travel, I will do this for my granddaughter.”