Families across Gaza are returning to buildings scarred by war, transforming ruins into fragile shelters. 

With tents battered by winter rains and aid still restricted, survivors choose cracked walls and unstable stairways over displacement, carving out daily life amid devastation.

The Halawa family’s building in Gaza City is one of the few still standing after two years of relentless Israeli bombardment. Though part of the structure has collapsed, they climb creaking wooden steps to reach their home. For them, damaged walls offer more dignity than flooded tents.

Israel’s war has killed more than 70,000 Palestinians, displaced most of the enclave’s 2.3 million residents, and destroyed or damaged over 70 percent of its buildings. A ceasefire announced in October has not halted the violence; more than 400 Palestinians have been killed since, and reconstruction remains blocked under Israel’s control of supplies.

Inside their battered apartment, Amani Halawa brews coffee over a tin fire while sunlight filters through broken concrete. She and her husband Mohammed patch their surroundings with scraps, hanging bags from exposed rods and arranging cookware across the floor. Their walls bear painted trees and messages to relatives separated by conflict.

Across Gaza City, families cling to fractured apartments despite the risks. Health officials reported 11 deaths in December alone from collapsing structures. Yet daily life persists: Sahar Taroush sweeps dust from carpets laid over rubble, while her daughter Bisan watches a movie beside gaping holes in the wall. In another home, a torn photo of a grandfather on horseback hangs on a cracked wall, while a man scrolls his phone atop a precarious balcony overlooking the devastated al-Karama neighborhood.

Amid destruction, Gaza’s families continue to endure, turning ruins into spaces of survival, memory, and resilience.