Gaza City – When Israel’s war began, families in Gaza faced a wrenching choice: stay in the north or head south to “safe areas.” Many women who moved south, sometimes alone with young children, were forced to leave their husbands behind, not knowing when their families would be reunited.
Since October, the Israeli army has set up checkpoints on Salah al-Din and al-Rasheed streets – the only main roads connecting northern and southern Gaza – preventing any movement between the areas.
The fate of tens of thousands of people displaced from the north to the south remains uncertain. Many of them yearn for a speedy return to their homes and loved ones they were forced to leave behind.
Here are three stories of women who were victims of forced separation:
“Will I ever see Abed again? I doubt it”: Raheel
At the start of the conflict, newlywed Raheel, 27, was heartbroken at the thought of leaving her husband Abdel Kareem, also known as Abed, in Gaza City. But Israeli forces promised her safe passage south, and her father insisted she leave.
“I am afraid of wars. My body shakes with every explosion,” Raheel confessed.
She had sought refuge with her aunt in Nasser, a neighborhood in western Gaza City. But on October 13, Israeli army leaflets urged civilians to evacuate the city, as it planned to “operate significantly” there in the coming days.
Trusting these orders, Raheel’s father insisted that she, her five sisters, two brothers and their mother move south, despite her intention to stay at his home in the Tuffah neighborhood. “You should be where your sisters are,” he told her.
Although the south was perceived as safe, Raheel was hesitant to leave the city. Due to communications disruptions, she was unable to notify her husband who was staying with his elderly parents. So they were unable to make the journey south.
Raheel eventually left without being able to say goodbye to Abdel Kareem. “I thought it was just a matter of time and that I would be going home very soon,” she said. “I didn’t know the war would last this long, with no sign of it ever ending,” she added. “I thought going south would protect me.”
Raheel’s journey south was fraught with uncertainty and hardship. From Gaza City to Khan Younis, then Rafah, then al-Mawasi, then back to Khan Younis, she faced the challenges of forced displacement and living in overcrowded shelters with few resources. With every step away from home, Raheel felt the immense weight of her separation from her husband and father. Worry for her loved ones who were suffering from severe food shortages and arbitrary Israeli raids and bombings further amplified this despair.
Married just a year before the war, Raheel had dreamed of starting a family. But she eventually found comfort in not having children amid the chaos. “I thank God every day that I don’t have to worry about a baby in these conditions. The fear would be unbearable,” she said.
In June, she learned that her brother-in-law had been killed in a military operation in Shujayea, Gaza City. “For the first time, I regretted not staying in Gaza to support my husband,” Raheel said. “I feel helpless being so far away. Will I ever see Abed again? I doubt it.”
Often, when communications are cut off, Raheel lies awake with tears in her eyes, her phone clutched in her hands, praying for a message from her husband or father. The sound of bombs in the distance is a constant reminder of the danger they face. “I can’t describe the pain of not knowing if they are safe or if I will ever see them again,” she says.
Despite the difficult circumstances, Raheel remains resilient and takes on the role of caregiver and protector for her mother and sisters, even as she is heartbroken. “I have to stay strong for them,” she said. “We have to believe that one day we will be reunited with our loved ones and rebuild our lives.”
“Not knowing your fate is the hardest part”: Walaa
Walaa, a mother of three, faced the same dilemma. Urged by her husband to seek safety for their young children, they all fled their home in Shati refugee camp, also known as Beach Camp, in western Gaza City, to a relative’s house in central Gaza. After enduring relentless shelling, the couple debated whether to stay together or separate for safety reasons. On November 14, Walaa took her children south while her husband Ahmed stayed behind to care for his injured father.
In southern Gaza, Walaa, 31, has faced challenges. She has had to become both a mother and a father while coping with the difficulties of life and the scarcity of resources in southern Gaza.
“No one can take care of my children as much as their parents,” she said. “Every night they would cry, wanting to see their father and make sure he was safe. I can’t help but try to calm them down.”
Communication breakdowns made maintaining contact almost impossible.
The children often ask about their father, their innocence piercing Walaa’s heart. She tries to comfort them, assuring them that they will be reunited soon, but she herself has doubts. “They tell me they miss their father, and I tell them I miss him too. But there is nothing we can do,” she says desperately.
Walaa often can’t sleep, worried about her husband. “I feel like a part of me is missing,” she says. “Not knowing his fate is the hardest part.”
After eight months of separation, the idea of reuniting with her husband has become a distant dream. “I have regrets. I regret the day we decided to leave the north,” Walaa laments.
“I saw them beat my husband and take him away with me”: Doaa
Unlike Walaa and Raheel, Doaa and her husband Abdullah decided to stay in northern Gaza, believing that nowhere was truly safe. They moved from their home near the Gaza port to Yarmouk Square in the Jalaa neighborhood.
Despite the advance of Israeli tanks, the couple believed that their civilian status would protect them, so they stayed put. “We had no ties to Hamas or any other party,” Doaa confirmed.
Their hopes were dashed when the Israeli army invaded the area, terrorizing women and children, torturing the elderly and kidnapping men. In the place where they were staying, Doaa saw Abdullah, his father-in-law and brother-in-law being tortured and taken away.
The memory of that day haunts her. “They burst in without warning,” she says, her voice breaking. “I saw them beat my husband and take him away by force. My father-in-law was also taken away. We were helpless.”
For nearly 60 days, Doaa had no contact with Abdullah, who was being transferred to Israeli prisons. Uncertainty and fear gnawed at her every day. “The nights were the hardest,” she says. “I couldn’t sleep, imagining all the horrors he might face.”
When he was finally released in the south, Doaa and her nearly 21-month-old daughter were still in the north. However, the Israeli military forbade anyone from traveling to northern Gaza. “Lolo was almost a year old when he was arrested. I doubt he would have recognized her if he had ever seen her,” Doaa said, tears welling in her eyes.
Adjusting to the harsh reality of life without him, Doaa became the sole caregiver and provider for her daughter. The responsibility of ensuring Lolo’s safety and well-being was overwhelming. “I had to be strong for her,” Doaa says. “There was no other choice.” She relies on her family, with whom she continues to move from place to place, fleeing death in northern Gaza.
As Doaa’s heart aches at the thought of seeing her husband again soon, she also mourns their beautiful home, destroyed by Israeli raids. Everything, she says, reminds her of her husband.
“We continue because we have to,” Doaa said. “For our children, for our families, we have no other choice.”