Eid al-Fitr in Gaza shadowed by bleakness as Israeli bombardment continues

31/3/2025 6:06

The first day of Eid al-Fitr in the Gaza Strip was clouded by a heavy silence, with no excited children waking their parents to wear new clothes, no bustling streets filled with joy, and no homes brimming with cookies and coffee.

This silence was broken only by the roar of Israeli warplanes and the wails of people grieving the loss of their loved ones.

As dawn broke, Abu Mohammed Abed stood in front of a dilapidated tent in the Al-Nuseirat refugee camp, wiping away his tears as he struggled to comfort his only grandson, Mahmoud, who had lost both his parents three weeks ago.

"How can I tell him that Eid is no longer Eid and that his parents will never return?" Abed told Xinhua, his voice trembling. "I cannot even find a piece of candy to console him."

Despite the heartbreak, Abed insisted on taking his grandson to Eid prayers at the ruins of a mosque in their neighborhood, which was destroyed seven months ago.

"If it were up to me, I would cry for my son, his wife, and my relatives for the rest of my life. But life goes on. It won't stop," he said, patting his grandson's shoulder. "This generation of Gazans will shape their future with their own hands, and I must help guide them."

The bleakness was equally shared by the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood north of Gaza City. Smoke from destroyed buildings darkened the sky as dozens of men lined up to perform Eid prayers in the remains of a mosque.

Among them was Mahmoud Abu Taha, an elderly man who had lost four sons in the war.

"We are trying to hold on to our faith despite the destruction, but how can we rejoice when the bodies of our children are still buried under the rubble?" he lamented.

In Khan Younis, profound grief extended amid the sounds of ambulance sirens. Outside Nasser Hospital, Umm Alaa cradled her young grandson, fighting back tears. Her eldest son, Alaa, was killed earlier in an Israeli airstrike.

"He (Alaa) was waiting for Eid to see his child dressed in new clothes," she sobbed. "Now, he is in the morgue... How much pain must we endure?"

For children in this war-torn place, Eid was no longer a day of joy. Six-year-old Lian Abdul Wahid from Deir al-Balah clung to her mother's hand, asking, "Mama, will Daddy come back to take me to the park as promised?" Her mother pulled her into a tight embrace, unable to tell her about her father's death.

Despite all the hardship, some families tried to preserve the spirit of Eid. Saadia Abu Jamea, a mother of four, was baking holiday cookies using food aid rations in a shelter.

"I mixed some durum flour with sugar and told my children they were Eid cookies," she told Xinhua, saying she wanted to, by doing so, bring joy to her children for a small moment.

Yet, the sobering truth is that the violence across Gaza does not subside throughout the holiday. According to Gaza-based health authorities, the Palestinian death toll has exceeded 920, with over 2,000 injuries, since Israel renewed its strikes on March 18, effectively ending a two-month ceasefire deal with Hamas.