Destroyed  residential buildings in Gaza’s north. Photo: Ahmed Dremly

During the first days of war, our family stayed on the ground floor of my home in northern Gaza, where I have lived since I opened my eyes to the world.

While listening to the sound of nearby rockets and nonstop shelling, our family placed in a small bag important documents like birth certificates, personal identification, academic certificates, and most importantly, ownership papers for our house and land. My mother kept that bag under her pillow every night.

In those first days, the houses around us were directly bombed without warning. On October 10, 2023, the house behind ours, only two meters away, was warned of an imminent strike. We evacuated immediately, certain that if we stayed home we would not survive. We fled carrying the evacuation bags we had prepared, along with the bag of important documents. My mother said, “These papers prove our ownership of the house. If it is bombed and we lose it, these papers prove that it belongs to us.”

The shelling was intense. I could not take all my belongings because we fled on foot. We could not find a car to escape in. Each of us carried a small bag with our most important belongings, while my mother carried the bag containing our ownership papers from the north. My mother always repeated, “This is our only proof that we own property in the north.”

After leaving home, we were displaced repeatedly and moved from one place to another — my aunt’s house, the home of a friend of my father, three schools, and Al-Shifa Hospital (during the war, hospitals and schools were used as shelters for displaced people). With every displacement, we left many things behind, including clothes and food.

Because of food shortages, we ate only one meal a day. We lived on bread, rice, and pasta. No meat or vegetables were available. Food prices rose dramatically. When I fled from the hospital, I left behind my laptop that had all the photos of our home.

Our displacement from the house had been harsh and painful. Every day we dreamed of returning home.

When we finally returned home in January 2025, we had been displaced for a year and a half. We found that three floors of the house had been destroyed. My mother brought out the ownership papers and said, “This is proof that we owned three floors. When reconstruction begins, we will show them our ownership papers proving that we had floors destroyed in the bombing, and they will be rebuilt again.”

We settled back into our home and repaired it, believing that the war was over. It was more of a hope than a belief.

We prayed we would never have to leave again. We hoped the war was over and we would never have to leave our home again. Unfortunately, in Gaza not everything we hope for comes true, especially dreams of security and stability.

In mid-March 2025, the war returned. We heard rockets. Fear and death chased us every moment. I did not want to leave my home again. I could not bear to face displacement again. The shelling continued, and tanks fired bullets near our home. Despite that, we did not leave the house. We were unwilling to abandon it.

In mid-May 2025, a phone call from the Israeli authorities warned us that our house would be bombed in less than 10 minutes — not enough time to evacuate the house. The front of our home was filled with rubble and the street was full of debris. Evacuating the house required more than 10 minutes. Because of the severe famine, we carried whatever food we could, leaving behind clothes and other belongings. That was the first time we left behind the ownership papers to our house. The Israeli military bombed our house with our ownership papers inside.

Our home now lies within the red zone, an area fully controlled by Israel. We are not allowed to go home. We are overwhelmed by fear that our ownership of our house and land will not be recognized. The papers were lost inside our bombed home. The photos of our home had been kept on my laptop that was lost while fleeing Al-Shifa Hospital. We no longer have any proof that we own a home and land.

I hope the war ends forever. I hope the occupation withdraws from the red zones. I hope our home can be rebuilt, and we are never forced to leave it again.