“Streets Littered With Abandoned Cars”

By Sujood Alkhour | May 14, 2026

Rows of green trees lining the sidewalks and modern buildings were what we saw when we used to drive around Gaza City in my brother’s car. It was a gray Skoda (produced by a Czechoslovakian automobile manufacturer) with black tires and shiny windows.

When we drove at night, moonlight filtered in through the glass roof, its rays gently hitting our faces inside the car, allowing us to see the stars and the night sky. This window let in the moonlight at night and the sun during the day, creating an atmosphere of love and joy.

Our favorite place for a drive was to the Gaza beach. We would drive along Gaza’s coast, where the waves crashed against each other, the sky’s color reflected on the sea, making it appear blue. The sea air was fresh.

Since the sea was some distance away from our home, we took everything we needed with us — drinks like tea, coffee, and cola, and fast food like pizza and pastries. We also had chocolate, chips, pistachios, and sweets. We would walk along the beach with the sea’s moisture touching our faces, making them feel as if they were wet. The sun would set, transforming into beautiful colors as it disappeared behind the sea. 

At the beach, we would sit together in a circle at the table, laughing and chatting. We would tell each other many stories and eat sunflower seeds and salted corn. We didn’t worry about the time, because my brother’s car got us around easily, so we didn’t have to wait for a taxi.

Then the night drive would begin, the car’s headlights illuminating the streets beautifully, almost turning night into day. 

My brother has owned his car for several years. But since the beginning of the war on Gaza in October 2023, he’s been worried, as the car is his only source of income. He works as a driver and depends on the car to provide for his children. He takes good care of the car and has transported it during every displacement as the threats and siege loomed, almost as if the Skoda was a person he was transporting with us. 

Throughout the war, the occupation severely restricted the entry of diesel and motor oil into Gaza, making prices exorbitant. Diesel is the lifeblood of a car, while oil is the shield that protects the engine from breakdowns.

My brother’s car broke down several times, and each time he paid exorbitant prices to obtain spare parts because the crossings were closed and the occupation prevented the parts’ entry. He spent most of his earnings from transporting people to pay the mechanic for repairs.

One of the biggest reasons my brother’s car broke down so often was the destruction of Gaza City’s streets, which had become littered with stones and rubble. This constant damage to the Skoda, although it worried my brother a lot and depleted his savings, was easier to bear than when the car’s engine broke down, as there is no engine compatible with his car anywhere in the Gaza Strip, because spare parts have been banned from entering the Strip for a very long time. Since his engine died, the car has been out of commission, and he hasn’t been able to find a replacement engine, even a used one. 

This lack of a drivable car has made earning a living incredibly difficult for him. He’s now living in a truly tragic situation, as his car is not only his source of income but also a source of entertainment for him, his children, and all of us. We are very saddened by the breakdown of the car, which we consider our most prized possession. This tragedy will persist as long as the crossings remain closed. My brother’s car will remain idle until the crossings reopen and spare parts are allowed in.

My other brother worked in an auto parts shop, and his wife and children lived comfortably on a modest income, with my brother providing for all their needs. The shop was destroyed during the war, but my brother and the owner were able to salvage some parts. Now, he’s out of work because those parts have run out in the Gaza Strip. 

There is no end in sight. Two families are economically devastated because of the closure of the crossing, about which there is no real information.

In addition to my own family, I am close to my friend Ohood’s family. Ohood and I used to go to workshops and training centers for professional development in media, journalism, and the English language, and her father usually drove us there. However, his car’s windshield broke, so he can no longer drive it on rainy days, as the car would be damaged and we would be soaked. He’s still waiting for the car windshield to be replaced. 

These days the streets of Gaza are littered with rubble, sand, and abandoned cars. These vehicles are practically falling apart under the sun, the accumulated dust, and the rain.

Car parts are essential, just like food. My two brothers can’t get work and Ohood’s father cannot use his car without a windshield.

Car parts won’t become available until the crossings are opened — a dream that seems impossible given the siege we’re living under in Gaza.