Although 11 days have passed since the ceasefire agreement in the Gaza Strip came into effect, the war has not yet left the lives of Gazans.
The smell of rubble still lingers in the alleys, and people continue to fight daily battles for survival amid extreme poverty, food insecurity, and ongoing displacement that weighs heavily on more than two million people searching for shelter and a dignified life in a land exhausted by siege and destruction.
The war did not only claim tens of thousands of lives, it also stripped survivors of the bare essentials of living.
Hundreds of thousands of families are still living in temporary tents or partially destroyed schools, without sufficient electricity or clean water, amid scarce job opportunities and the near-total collapse of the economic infrastructure.
Sami al-Najjar, a displaced resident from the Al-Zaytoun neighbourhood, says that life after the war is even harder than during the bombing itself.
‘We thought that the end of the missiles would bring comfort, but we discovered that the war left us with endless hunger and fear.
‘Today, we don’t know how to feed our children, and we can barely afford bread.’
In the streets of Gaza, long lines of citizens crowd around the few aid distribution points. Families wait for a hot meal from charity kitchens, while markets are almost empty of basic food supplies.
The Israeli occupation continues to prevent the entry of many vital items such as meat, poultry, eggs, and fresh vegetables, allowing in only limited quantities that barely sustain life and fail to provide nutritional variety to prevent disease.
Umm Wasim, a mother of five, says she cooks lentils and rice day after day, ‘because that’s all we have. We haven’t seen vegetables in weeks, and we can’t buy fruit even if it’s available, its prices have tripled.’
According to reports from the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA), about 88% of agricultural land in Gaza has been destroyed or is no longer accessible due to devastation and landmines.
Farmers who once relied on growing vegetables and fruit have completely lost their source of income. The lack of this local produce has worsened the food crisis and sent prices soaring.
UNRWA confirmed that most families in the Strip cannot afford to buy food from markets, so bringing in humanitarian aid has become an urgent priority until the agricultural sector recovers.
Amid widespread destruction and joblessness, most residents now live below the poverty line. Those who once owned small shops or workshops lost them under the rubble.
Daily wage workers who lived off their modest earnings are now unemployed.
Resident Mahmoud Awad notes: ‘Everything in Gaza is now priced in dollars or in the inflated shekel,’ adding that some merchants impose different prices depending on the available currency, leaving the poor unable to buy even daily necessities.
UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk stressed in a statement the need for human rights to be at the core of Gaza’s recovery efforts, calling for urgent access to food, water, and healthcare, and an end to the policy of collective punishment imposed on civilians.
The World Food Programme (WFP) also confirmed that the continued closure of northern crossings has prevented the start of aid distribution in Gaza City, with only very limited supplies reaching in, raising the risk of worsening hunger and malnutrition, especially among children and pregnant women.
Gaza’s Ministry of Health reports that since October 7th, 2023, the Israeli aggression has left about 67,967 martyrs and 170,179 injured, while hundreds of thousands of wounded and displaced people live in dire conditions lacking the most basic necessities of life.
Despite the cruelty, Gazans cling to hope. In their tents and alleyways, endless stories of resilience echo, mothers baking bread over open fires despite the scarcity of flour, young men repairing what remains of their homes with their bare hands, and children drawing their small dreams on walls of a homeland free from war and hunger.
As Ayyham al-Amour from Deir Al-Balah says: ‘We’re not asking for the impossible, just to live like other people. We want a safe home, a decent meal, and a sky that doesn’t rain fire.’
Nader Sadaqa – the Samaritan freed after 21 years in prison
ON THE morning of October 13, 2025, Nader Saleh Sadaqa walked out of the gates of captivity after 21 years of imprisonment.
His face bore the weariness of long years behind bars, yet the spark of determination in his eyes had not dimmed.
His release was not just the end of a prison sentence, it was the closing of a chapter in a unique Palestinian story, whose hero came from a small community but believed that belonging to one’s homeland is broader than any narrow identity.
Nader Sadaqa was born in 1977 on the slopes of Mount Gerizim in Nablus, among the homes of the Samaritan community, which still clings to its ancient traditions.
He grew up in a small group that speaks both ancient Hebrew and Arabic, living between two worlds, but never distant from the struggles of the land and the people around them.
He often told his friends: ‘The Samaritans are part of Palestine. These mountains know all our names, old and new.’
At school in Nablus, the quiet boy was drawn to reading and history, but a city under occupation leaves little room for childhood.
During the First Intifada, Nader was one of the boys who hurled stones at heavily armed soldiers.
By the time of the Second Intifada, his name had become known within the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), where he emerged as a field commander in the Abu Ali Mustafa Brigades.
In 2004, after two years on the run, Nader was captured by Israeli forces in a large-scale military operation in the Ain Beit al-Ma’ refugee camp.
The charges were numerous: belonging to a banned organisation, planning operations, and participating in attacks against the Israeli army.
To Nader, those charges were a silent acknowledgment that he had never stayed silent in the face of injustice.
He received a harsh sentence, six life terms plus forty-five additional years, making him one of those Israel believed would never see freedom again.
But inside prison, Nader was not just another name on the list of inmates. He became known as ‘the thinker of the prisoners’.
He gave lectures, wrote about history, and took part in every collective hunger strike. He would tell his cellmates: ‘Prison doesn’t kill a person, it reveals his true nature.’
Nader’s story was unique even within the prison walls, he was the only Samaritan prisoner in Israeli jails.
His distinct background aroused curiosity among Israelis, but he turned it into a bridge of defiance.
He refused to let his origins be used to justify leniency or sympathy and would always repeat, ‘I am Samaritan by heritage, Palestinian at heart and the occupation does not distinguish between one blood and another.’
Nader was placed in solitary confinement multiple times, accused of communicating with fellow prisoner Ahmad Sa’adat, the PFLP’s Secretary-General.
In his long isolation, he wrote many reflections on freedom and dignity. When asked after his release about those days, he said calmly: ‘Solitude does not scare those who know themselves. I used to listen to my own breath and count it, just to remind myself that I was still alive.’
During the prisoner exchange deal that followed the ceasefire agreement in Gaza, Nader Sadaqa’s name appeared among the unexpected releases.
Israel had refused to free him in previous exchanges but yielded this time to the resistance’s conditions.
When he was released, Israel barred his family from celebrating, they weren’t even allowed to receive him in Nablus. Instead, Nader was transferred to the Gaza Strip among a list of those deported.
There, crowds welcomed him with tears, flowers, and chants of joy and awe.
It was like witnessing a small miracle: A man from one of the world’s smallest religious communities, freed from Israel’s deepest prison cells through the struggle of his people.
Today, Nader Sadaqa lives in Gaza, among fellow ex-prisoners who were freed before him. He is slowly trying to reclaim the details of a life that was stolen.
In his first statement after release, he said: ‘I did not leave prison to rest, I came out to continue the path with those who believe that freedom is never granted; it is seized.’
In him lies the story of all Palestine: diversity, resilience, and an extraordinary capacity to endure.
Nader Sadaqa is not just a freed prisoner, he is a living testament that true identity is forged by stance, not by blood. And that when freedom arrives, it does not distinguish between Samaritan, Muslim, or Christian, it knocks on every door with the same name: Palestinian.