Tents and Trash Dumps — Untold Stories from Gaza

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Under a dim sunrise that barely resembles morning, Nahla Youssef wakes up every day inside a tattered tent pitched along Salah al-Din Road, east of Al-Zawayda.
She does not open her eyes to sunlight, but to thick black smoke that seeps into her chest before reaching the lungs of her children.

Two years ago, Nahla lived in northern Gaza, in a modest but safe home. Today, nothing remains of that house but memory, and nothing remains of safety but a fragile hope. She fled the bombardment, only to find herself facing a slower death—one that creeps in with every breath.

Next to her tent lies an improvised garbage dump, where plastic waste is burned daily to extract what is known as “fuel of necessity.”
Toxic smoke, suffocating stench, and a sky stripped of its blue. Struggling to suppress her coughing, Nahla says: “We escaped the shrapnel, but not death. Here, we die a little every day.”

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Nahla developed asthma after previously suffering only mild allergies. Her seven-year-old child is now covered in skin rashes and plagued by constant headaches. Hospitals are far away, medicines are scarce, and even the air itself has become a cause of illness.

Nahla’s story is not an exception. Thousands of displaced families live the same reality, trapped between tents and trash dumps, in an environment that has turned into a breeding ground for disease.

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Several kilometers away, in Deir al-Balah, Faten Helles is fighting a different battle—no less brutal. Carrying empty plastic containers, she walks long distances with her daughters in search of water, often returning with yet another disappointment.

“We use seawater to wash clothes, and sometimes the children bathe in it despite the pollution,” Faten says, her eyes fixed on her daughters. “Thirst is harsher than fear.”

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Her children have developed intestinal and skin diseases, but options are nonexistent. Clean water is rare, bathing is a luxury, and choosing between the two is as cruel as the siege itself.

In Gaza today, war does not kill only with bombs. It kills through polluted air, poisoned water, and rubble piled over what were once homes and dreams—debris hiding toxic materials and threatening collapse at any moment.

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The United Nations has described what is happening as “unprecedented environmental destruction.” But behind this sterile phrase, Nahla, Faten, and thousands of others are waging a daily struggle for survival.

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Gaza today is not asking for pity, but for the right to life—a life that endures, not because it is beautiful, but because it has become a miracle.

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