On December 3, 2023, Rania Abdul Raouf and her family were forced to flee their home in the Al-Qarara area due to an Israeli military incursion into Khan Younis and Al-Qarara. The day they left was filled with the terrifying sounds of relentless bombardment. Bullets from quadcopters struck the walls of their house, and artillery shells landed dangerously close. The intensity of the attack left them with no choice but to evacuate.
“We couldn’t take much with us, just a few clothes for myself, my children, and my husband; we left everything else behind,” Rania recalls. “Leaving my beloved home felt like my soul was being torn from my body.”
For Rania, the home was more than just a place to live; it was the heart of her family. Every corner, every piece of furniture, and every wall held memories of love, comfort, and the small joys of everyday life. The decision to leave didn’t just mean survival; it also meant abandoning a part of herself.
Seeking shelter
With no time to plan, Rania, her husband Hussam Al-Khatib, and their four children — Amira, 15, Abdullah, 14, Alaa, 12, and Dania, 8 — headed to Rafah. There, they found refuge in the home of Abu Anas Abu Luli, a close friend of Hussam. But any sense of relief quickly faded. The house was bursting at the seams, with 86 people packed together in every corner. For Rania and her family, this meant squeezing into a single, cramped room of just 3 by 4 meters. “We were 86 people in one house, trying to manage and share the limited space,” Rania recalls.
The tiny balcony attached to their room, barely big enough to stand in, was hastily turned into a makeshift kitchen and laundry area. “It was not meant for this,” Rania adds as she described the daily struggle to make this small space work for everything. With the constant crowding, any water they managed to fill in the tanks ran out almost immediately. Each time they needed to wash clothes, they had to haul water by hand, as there were no washing machines and the electricity has been cut off since the beginning of the assault.
The physical effort was grueling, and the lack of proper facilities made even the simplest tasks a challenge. The only bathroom beside their room was shared by the entire family, leaving them with little privacy or comfort. “We were constantly on edge, trying to adapt and make do,” Rania explains.
Just three days after their departure, they received the devastating news from Falah Salama, a relative who had managed to reach their neighborhood, that their home had been destroyed. A relentless barrage of fire had struck the neighborhood, and when the Israeli army entered, they bulldozed the entire area. The house that had once been their sanctuary was now a pile of rubble.
Returning to ruins
On February 1, 2024, after living under crowded conditions for months, Hussam was able to return to what was once their home. What he found was heartbreaking: rubble, shattered glass, and gaping holes had been left by the shells. The external walls had collapsed, and all the furniture was destroyed. The soldiers had ransacked the house, smashing beds and cabinets. The very structure of the house was compromised, with walls crumbling under the weight of the destruction.
Determined to assess the damage, Hussam brought in an engineer. The verdict was grim: The house was partially damaged and uninhabitable. Friends and neighbors advised him to pitch a tent and live in it, but Hussam flatly refused. The idea of exposing his family to the elements in a tent was not an option he could consider.
“I couldn’t bear the thought of living in a tent,” Hussam says. “I knew we had to rebuild, no matter how difficult it would be.”
Rebuilding with love
Rania recalls the shock of seeing their home in ruins. “It was terrifying to see the thing you love most become the thing you fear the most,” she says. There was still a risk the building could collapse on them, especially amid the nearby shelling. “I sometimes wanted to leave, because I couldn’t bear to see it in that state.”
To Rania, the house was more than just a structure; it was part of her identity. She had lovingly cared for it, painting the walls with her daughter Amira and choosing the furniture with care. What was once a sanctuary of comfort and peace had become a source of distress and fear.
Undeterred, Hussam began rebuilding the house with whatever materials he could find. He hired a builder, bought expensive cement, and started by reconstructing the fallen walls. He and his son Abdullah worked tirelessly, removing debris with their hands, which became rough and cracked from handling the sharp stones and shattered glass. They salvaged usable stones and began reconstructing the walls.
During the rebuilding process, Hussam and Abdullah faced severe challenges, including a complete lack of water in the neighborhood and scarce food supplies. They often had to spend days away from the rest of the family, surviving on minimal rations.
Rania’s heart broke to see her husband and son working under such harsh conditions, but their determination inspired her. She knew that they were not just rebuilding a house; they were reclaiming their lives.
Once the walls were rebuilt, Hussam stood amidst the ruins of his home, where every shattered piece told a story of loss but also carried a seed of resilience. Determined to breathe new life into what remained, he embarked on a challenging journey of recycling his broken furniture. With a craftsman’s touch, he transformed the fragmented wooden cabinet into sturdy chairs, each curve of the wood bearing witness to his ingenuity. In the kitchen, he carefully placed the broken marble pieces side by side, binding them with cement to create a new, vibrant surface. The house, once containing nothing but debris, now carried the essence of his spirit, brought back to life with every stroke of his hand.
With every nail hammered and every piece reimagined, he whispered to himself, “From the ashes of what was, I will build something that can be.”
A home reborn
When Rania finally returned to the house after its reconstruction, she felt an overwhelming sense of pride. “My husband made something out of nothing,” she says with admiration. The entire family then set about cleaning the house — dusting the furniture, washing the clothes, and sweeping away the rubble and glass. They spent 35 days on this laborious task.
“Every time we accomplished something, it felt like a victory,” Rania recalls. Her daughter Dania, who had been particularly distressed, found comfort in having her bed back.
When asked where she and her husband found the strength to rebuild and persevere in the face of such adversity, Rania’s answer was simple: “Love. Love for our home, and for comfort and stability. Love gives us the strength to do anything.”
Displaced again
Three months after their home was rebuilt, Rania and her family were once again displaced as the Israeli army re-entered the Al-Qarara area. They are currently staying with Rania’s aunt, and the latest news from their neighborhood suggests that their home has been damaged once again. The army has once again bulldozed the area, and there is a possibility that their home, painstakingly rebuilt, has been destroyed.
Yet even in the face of such uncertainty, Rania remains resolute: “Thank God, we are still alive. We will rebuild it again.”
Walls that once held laughter now whisper stories of loss, defiance, and the will to rebuild.
