Gazans face hard elections, because their future is discussed on the global phase star-news.press/wp

Jabalia, looking out of the air, is beautiful.

Hiroshima – like a passenger extends as much as the eye can see. Buildings Buildings The joints tilted the landscape, some leaning into crazy corners.

The great corrugated waves of the ruins make everything, but it is impossible to present the geography of this once a hectic, firm crowded refugee camp.

Still, as a drone camera flies over the wreck, draws a splash of blue and white in which small tent camps are placed in open soil patches.

And figures, weakening over broken buildings, moving along dirt streets, where food markets are protected under tin roofs and canvases. Children use the crashed roof as a slide.

After more than six weeks of Gaza’s fragile truce, Jabalia slowly returns to life.

In the neighborhood of Al-Qasasib, Nabil returned to a four-storey house that is somehow still standing, even if it lacks windows, doors and – in some places – walls.

He and his relatives made raw balconies from wooden pallets and inflated tarpaulin to stand the elements.

“Look at the destruction,” he says while surveying Jabalese ocean ruins from the upper floor.

“Want us to go without renewal? How can we leave. The least we can do is rebuilt for our children.”

For cooking meals, he shines a light fire on a bare staircase, she fell carefully with pieces of torn cardboard.

On the second floor, Laila Ahmed Okasha is washed in the sink where the dad switched before the dry moon.

“No water, electricity or sewer,” she says. “If we need water, we have to go to the end seat to fill the bucket.”

He says she cried when she returned to the house and found it destroyed him.

She blames Israel and Hamas to destroy the world that once knew.

“They’re both responsible,” she says. “We had a polite, comfortable life.”

Shortly after the war started in October 2023. year, Israel told Palestinians in the northern part of Gaza Strip – including Jabalia – to move south for their own safety.

Hundreds of thousands of people looked for a warning, but many others, determined to ride the war.

Laila and her husband Marwan was engaged until October last year, when the Israeli army performed Jabali, saying that Hamas reconstructed combat units within the narrow streets in the camp.

After two months shelters in the nearby camp Shati, Leila and Marwan returned to find Jabalia almost unrecognizable.

“When we came back and saw how it was destroyed, I didn’t want to stay here anymore,” says Marwan.

“I had a wonderful life, but now she hells. If I have a chance to go, I’m going. I’m going. I won’t stay another minute.”

To stay or go? The future of Gaza’s civilian population is now the subject of the international debate.

In February, Donald Trump suggested that the United States should take Gaza and that almost two million Palestinian residents should leave, possibly for good.

Faced with international anger and fierce opposition of Arab leaders, Trump afterwards appeared to be distracted from the plan, saying he recommended it, but would not force him to anyone.

Meanwhile, Egypt has Arabic efforts to emerge a sustainable alternative, which will be presented at the emergency alphabet in Cairo on Tuesday.

Key, it says the Palestinian population should remain inside the gauze, while the area is reconstructed.

Donald Trump intervention amounted to the Gaza known to the stubborn side.

“If Trump wants to make us, I’ll stay in Gaza,” Laila says. “I want to travel in my free will. I won’t go for him.”

Across the road sits a nine-cynical yellow apartment blocks so spectacularly damaged that it is difficult to believe that it did not collapse.

The upper floors were fully charged, the threats to the rest. Over time, it will surely have to crash, but for now, home is even more families. There are leaves and washing in the windows to dry in the late winter sun.

The most undesirable, out of the improvised plastic door on the corner of the ground floor, next to the crowd of ruins and garbage, stands without a headless mannequin, carrying a wedding dress.

It’s Sanaa Abu Ishbak’s dress.

The 45-year-old bar, mother 11, set the job two years before the war, but had to leave when she ran south in November 2023. Years.

She returned as soon as a truce was announced. With his wife and daughters, she was busy cleaning the debris from the store, arranging dresses on hangers and prepare for work.

“I love Camp Jabalia,” she says, “and I won’t leave it until I die.”

Sana and Laila look alike determined to stay placed if I can. But both women speak differently when they talk about young people.

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

“No education in Gaza.”

The mother of the girl was killed during the war. Laila says he still talks to her at night.

“It was the soul of my soul and left his daughter in his hands. If I have the opportunity to travel, I will do it for my granddaughter.”