In the heart of Gaza City, amidst the widespread devastation, stands the Skeik building. Once a symbol of vibrant city life, this six-storey structure has become a refuge for families fleeing the relentless conflict. What was once known as “Lovers’ Street,” a place for quiet strolls and social gatherings, is now a landscape of rubble, with the building itself bearing the scars of war – shrapnel marks and a gaping hole through an upper floor.
The Skeik building, constructed in 2008, was situated in a prime location, close to civic institutions that now lie in ruins. Its central position, however, also placed it directly in the path of advancing Israeli forces during the early months of the war. The building, along with much of the surrounding neighborhood, has seen its original residents displaced, replaced by a continuous flow of families seeking shelter.
Inside the building, eight of the ten apartments serve as makeshift homes for families who have lost everything. Hadeel Daban, a 26-year-old mother of three, lives on the fourth floor. She recounts the constant displacement, having moved her family for the twelfth time. “Shrapnel hits the walls here, but it’s still better than a tent,” she says, her children playing amidst the sparse belongings packed into bags.
Muna Shabet, a 59-year-old grandmother from a neighborhood now described as a “wasteland,” shares her family’s story. Living on the fifth floor, she speaks of the fear and the struggle for basic necessities. Her grandchildren, despite the surrounding destruction, draw pictures of idyllic homes, a stark contrast to their current reality. Muna reflects on the fragmentation of families, the scattering of loved ones, and the profound emotional toll of the war: “Life has been stripped away. My health is gone. Our home is gone, and the dearest people to our hearts are gone – nothing is left for us.”
Shawkat al-Ansari, originally from a completely destroyed town, lives on the first floor with his wife and seven children. He speaks of the uncertainty and the deep sense of loss, particularly the disappearance of his brother. The war has not only ravaged their physical surroundings but also halted the education and future prospects of his children, who are now forgetting their lessons.
The stories from the Skeik building paint a vivid picture of the human cost of this conflict. The destruction of homes and communities has fractured social ties, leaving individuals and families adrift. As Hadeel prepares to move once again, she expresses a profound sense of resignation: “We’ll stay on the streets and live in a tent… My children aren’t my children anymore. There’s more suffering than innocence in their eyes now.” The war has not only destroyed buildings but has also eroded the very essence of innocence and childhood, leaving behind a legacy of profound suffering.