Gaza’s future can't be life in a tent

Seven weeks into Gaza’s fragile ceasefire, most of the bombing has abated, but the humanitarian crisis remains extreme. As executive director of MedGlobal, I spent time with our medical aid teams in Gaza this month witnessing the ongoing precarity for most Palestinians living in Gaza.

Two weeks ago, the United Nations Security Council passed a U.S.-drafted resolution on Gaza, signaling international consensus on sustaining the ceasefire, expanding humanitarian access and outlining a path toward recovery.

"Yes, we welcome it," my Palestinian colleague said, but without a hint of celebration in his voice. Few in Gaza would deny that the resolution is positive, but it's not their preoccupation. Most are struggling to survive after two years of killing, destruction and deprivation.

To make a difference, the U.N. resolution must rapidly translate into improved living conditions for Palestinians in Gaza, including Jasmine, a 2-week-old with chubby cheeks born in the MedGlobal-supported maternity ward of Al-Awda Hospital in central Gaza. Now she lives in a 10-by-16-foot tent with her mother, three aunts, an uncle and her grandparents. What Jasmine’s family has endured is emblematic of the catastrophic depth of Gaza’s crisis. If the security council's resolution leads to peace, it will be just the first, but necessary, step on the daunting journey toward recovery.

Jasmine’s family lost their home right after Israel's airstrikes started following the Oct. 7 Hamas attack. They fled to Rafah and rented a flat, and when Israeli forces struck Rafah, they fled again to a flat in Gaza. During the intense bombing in September and October, they lost that home too. Just outside Jasmine’s camp, I saw the evidence: mounds of broken concrete and twisted rebar that were once homes. Over 80% of my colleagues in Gaza said their homes are completely destroyed, too, and almost all of them, like Jasmine, are living in tents.

"Life in a tent is no life," Jasmine’s grandmother told me. The family depends on nongovernmental organizations to bring food to the camp, which doesn’t come every day. It's the same with drinking water. No one in Jasmine’s family earns an income. Her father was killed two months ago while seeking flour for his then-pregnant, malnourished wife. He was shot and killed by the Israeli Defense Forces after he strayed too close to the "yellow line" established in last month’s ceasefire. Jasmine never got to meet her father.

Since October 2023, the IDF has taken control of over 53% of Gaza’s territory. Not only is most of Gaza in ruins, but most of the region is no longer accessible to its residents. Tents seemingly occupy every possible space — soccer stadiums, along the beach, old agricultural land and in the unstable shells of bombed-out buildings.

Jasmine’s grandmother smiled as she told me how beautiful their old home was. Her 15-year-old son, Jasmine’s uncle, went back to the destroyed property in July to dig out some clothes from the rubble for his sister. The remains of the home are on the other side of the "yellow line" — the "red zone." When the IDF soldiers spotted the teenager, they killed him.

Almost everyone has lost relatives, friends or colleagues — mostly violently — since 2023. Thankfully, in spite of recent airstrikes, the ceasefire, for its most part, has meant the emergency and surgical wards in Gaza’s remaining functional hospitals — most medical facilities were destroyed or evacuated — have fewer trauma cases. Exhausted and overstretched staff can now attend to more "normal" care, including elective surgeries, even if access to antibiotics, antiseptics, gauze and other essentials is limited. Medical supplies — including two full transport trucks from my organization — are still blocked from entering.

Two months ago, MedGlobal reported famine-level malnutrition in Gaza. Now, cases of malnutrition are dropping, as bananas, tomatoes, apples and onions fill kiosks along the roads. The prices have dropped dramatically since the Oct. 10 ceasefire, but a small bag of fruit or vegetables is still $5-$10 — prohibitively expensive for many people, including Jasmine’s family. Fortunately, due to the increased food aid allowed into Gaza since the ceasefire, Jasmine’s 18-year-old mother has received enough food to recover from malnutrition, and she is nursing well.

Soon, there will be nine people living in Jasmine’s tent. Her aunt is nine months pregnant. Sadly, Jasmine's new cousin will also never know her father. He was killed when his carpenter’s shop was bombed by the Israelis in April.

The social, psychological and economic impact of the violence and blockade inflicted on Palestinians in Gaza since 2023 is impossible to fully grasp. The recently passed U.N. resolution kindles hope, but for most people I spoke with, an end to the bombing removes only one element of hardship in their lives. When I asked Jasmine’s grandmother what her hopes are for the future, she said: "I’m tired. There is nothing for us here. I just want to leave."

I'm hoping Jasmine and so many others in Gaza will eventually be able to move out of their tents and dream of so much more.

 Joseph Belliveau is the executive director of MedGlobal.