BBC News, Jerusalem
Jabalia, from the air, takes his breath.
The desolation like Hiroshima extends how much the eye can see. The coated corpses of the buildings encourage the extinguished landscape, some lean to crazy angles.
The large wavy waves of the ruins make up everything that is impossible to discern the geography of this once hectic, firmly packed refugee camp.
Yet, while the unmanned camera flies over the wreck, it chooses spraying blue and white, where small tent camps in open soil patchpieas are installed.
And the figures, which climb over broken buildings, move the streets of dirt, where food markets emerge under tin roofs and canvas awnings. Children who use a demolished roof as a slider.
After more than six weeks fragile breaking gauze, Jabalia is slowly revived.
In the neighborhood of Al -qasasiba, Nabil returned to a four -storey building that somehow still stands, even if she lacked windows, doors and – in some places – walls.
He and his relatives made raw balconies made of wooden pallets and tensed Carpauline to prevent elements.
“Look at the destruction,” he says as Jabalian’s ocean ruins from the upper floor examined.
“They want to go without renovation? How can we leave. The least we can do is renew for our children.”
To cook the meal, the nabil burned a fire on a bare staircase, carefully piercing it with pieces of torn cardboard.
On the second floor, Laila Ahmed Okash is washed in a sink where the faucet is a few months ago.
“No water, electricity or sewage,” she says. “If we need water, we have to go to a far place to fill the buckets.”
She says she cried when she returned to the house and discovered that she had been destroyed.
She blames Israel and Hamas for the destruction of the world she once knew.
“They’re both responsible,” she says. “We had a decent, pleasant life.”
Shortly after the war began in October 2023, Israel told the Palestinians in the northern part of Gaza’s belt – including Jabali – to move south for their own safety.
Hundreds of thousands of people were careful about the warning, but many remained, determined to rip from the war.
Laila and her husband Marwan clung to October last year, when the Israeli army of Reinvades Jabali, saying that Hamas renewed combat units within the narrow streets of the camp.
After two months of shelters at a nearby Shati camp, Leila and Marwan returned to discover Jabali almost unrecognizable.
“When we came back and saw how it was destroyed, I no longer wanted to stay here,” Marwan says.
“I had a wonderful life, but now it’s hell. If I have the opportunity to leave, I’m going. I’m not going to stay for a minute.”
Stay or go? The future of the civilian population Gaza is now the subject of an international discussion.
In February, Donald Trump suggested that they should now take over Gaza and that almost two million Palestinian residents should leave, maybe for good.
Faced with international anger and fierce opposition to Arab leaders, Trump then stepped down from the plan, saying that he recommended him, but that he would not force him to anyone.
In the meantime, Egypt cited the Arab efforts to come up with a sustainable alternative to be presented on Tuesday at the Arab summit in Cairo.
What is crucial, he says that the Palestinian population should remain within Gaza while the area is reconstructed.
Donald Trump’s intervention brought Gaza a well -known stubborn side.
“If Trump wants to make us leave, I’ll stay in Gaza,” Lail says. “I want to travel with my own free will. I will not go because of him.”
Across the street is a nine -story yellow block of apartment so spectacularly damaged that it is hard to believe that he has not collapsed.
The upper floors were completely switched, threatening the rest. Over time, this will surely have to collapse, but for now, the home is even more families. The windows contain the leaves and the washing is hanging to dry in the late winter sun.
Most of all, outside the improvised plastic door on the ground floor, next to the crowd of ruins and garbage, stands without a head, carrying a wedding dress.
It is Sanaa’s clothing Abu Ishbak.
A 45-year-old tailor, mother for 11 years, founded a job two years before the war, but had to leave him when she fled south in November 2023.
She returned as soon as the fire was announced. With her husband and daughters, she was busy cleaning the debris from the store, editing dresses on hangers and preparing for work.
“I love Jabalia Camp,” he says, “and I won’t leave him until I die.”
Sanaa and Laila look equally determined to stay if they can. But both women speak differently when talking about young people.
“He doesn’t even know how to write his name,” Laila says about her granddaughter.
“There is no education in Gaza.”
The girl’s mother was killed during the war. Laila says she is still talking to her at night.
“She was the soul of my soul and left my daughter in my hands. If I have the opportunity to travel, I will do it for my grandchildren.”
