"The elderly serve as living bridges between past and present. They have endured displacement, loss, and destruction, yet continue to teach younger generations about identity and belonging," said Rawan Ahmed, a Palestinian psychologist in Gaza. ©Getty
“Even if they gave me all the money in the world and paradise on earth and asked me to leave Gaza, I wouldn’t.” With these words, Youssef Abu Shamala, 72, from Beit Lahia, began speaking to The New Arab.
His voice carries both defiance and attachment, a reflection of decades spent on land now scarred by war. Yet, he insists that everything is “small compared with the homeland.”
Abu Shamala, a cancer patient in need of treatment outside the war-torn coastal enclave, currently resides in a small tent behind his partially destroyed home, damaged during the Israeli war on Gaza over the last two years.
Israel’s genocidal war left around 85 per cent of the territory’s infrastructure in ruins, killed more than 72,000 Palestinians, and injured nearly 200,000, according to local statistics.
Even after an alleged ceasefire took effect in October 2025, Israeli attacks persist, and life in Gaza remains harsh. Residents survive in makeshift tents and partially destroyed homes, struggling with severe shortages of water, electricity, fuel, and medical care.
“We’ve lost everything,” Abu Shamala told TNA. “The house, the furniture, the memories. Seeing tents everywhere brings me back decades, to when we were forced to flee our hometown. Nostalgia and pain are intertwined here, but leaving Gaza is not an option.”
Despite his illness, Abu Shamala is determined to instil resilience in his grandchildren. “I want them to understand that Gaza is worth staying in, that resilience is part of who we are,” he added.
His insistence on staying is rooted not only in personal attachment but also in broader generational memory.
Read the full article in The New Arab
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