Gaza Teacher Offers Ray of Hope with Classroom in Rubble

Palestinian teacher Israa Abu Mustafa, who set up a classroom tent on the rubble of her house to educate children, poses for a photo, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 4, 2024. REUTERS/Hatem Khaled/File Photo Purchase Licensing Rights
Palestinian teacher Israa Abu Mustafa, who set up a classroom tent on the rubble of her house to educate children, poses for a photo, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 4, 2024. REUTERS/Hatem Khaled/File Photo Purchase Licensing Rights
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Gaza Teacher Offers Ray of Hope with Classroom in Rubble

Palestinian teacher Israa Abu Mustafa, who set up a classroom tent on the rubble of her house to educate children, poses for a photo, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 4, 2024. REUTERS/Hatem Khaled/File Photo Purchase Licensing Rights
Palestinian teacher Israa Abu Mustafa, who set up a classroom tent on the rubble of her house to educate children, poses for a photo, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 4, 2024. REUTERS/Hatem Khaled/File Photo Purchase Licensing Rights

Gaza's schools lie in ruins or have been turned into shelters for families displaced by a war that has killed tens of thousands. Yet teacher Israa Abu Mustafa refuses to let death and destruction deprive traumatised children of an education.

After a four-storey building containing her home was demolished by an Israeli air strike, Abu Mustafa set up a classroom on the rubble under a tent.

Her impromptu school is one of the few remaining options for children in her neighbourhood.

"During the war, we had to fill water gallons and collect sticks for firewood. Then Miss Israa found us and brought us here to continue learning," Reuters quoted 10-year-old Hala Abu Mustafa as saying.

The project began with 35 pupils and that number gradually increased to 70, ranging from pre-school to sixth graders aged 11-12.

Since the war began on Oct. 7, schools have been bombed or turned into shelters for displaced people, leaving Gaza's estimated 625,000 school-aged children unable to attend classes.

According to the Palestinian Ministry of Education, at least 10,490 school and university students have been killed in the Israeli offensive. More than 500 school teachers and university educators have also been killed.

Israel says it goes to great lengths to avoid civilian casualties and accuses Hamas of using human shields and operating from schools, an allegation the group denies.

Abu Mustafa's lessons go beyond just a curriculum. Her classes provide a sense of structure and routine in the chaos.

The tent is far from a traditional classroom where children once dreamed of one day studying abroad or becoming doctors and engineers who help the people of Gaza, which was impoverished and suffered from high unemployment long before the war erupted.

"We need chairs and tables so the children can learn properly instead of being forced to write on the ground," the 29-year-old teacher said.

With limited resources, Abu Mustafa teaches basic lessons including religious studies, trying to keep her students engaged despite the relentless bombardment.

Gaza and the Israeli-occupied West Bank have internationally high literacy levels, and the under-resourced education system was a rare source of hope and pride among Palestinians.

"What could be the child's wish? They have the right to learn in a safe environment, they have the right to play in safe place, to not feel any fear," Abu Mustafa said.



With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
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With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher

When a ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah came into effect last week, Lebanese hotelier Abbas al-Tannoukhi leapt at the chance to bury a dead relative in their southern hometown of Khiyam, battered for weeks by intense clashes.

Tannoukhi's cousin had been killed in one of the final Israeli airstrikes on Beirut's suburbs before Wednesday's ceasefire, which stipulated an end to fighting so residents on both sides of the border could return home.

But with Israeli troops still deployed in southern Lebanon, Tannoukhi coordinated his movements with Lebanon's army. Last Friday, he and his relatives pulled into the family graveyard in Khiyam, six km (four miles) from the border, with an ambulance carrying his cousin's body.

"We just needed 30 minutes (to bury her)," Tannoukhi, 54, said. "But we were surprised when Israeli tanks encircled us - and that's when the gunfire started."

Tannoukhi fled with his relatives on foot through the brush, wounding his hand as he scrambled between rocks and olive groves to reach safety at a checkpoint operated by Lebanese troops.

Soon afterwards, they tried to reach the graveyard again but said they were fired on a second time. Shaky footage filmed by Tannoukhi features sprays of gunfire.

"We couldn't bury her. We had to leave her body there in the ambulance. But we will try again," he told Reuters.

The ordeal highlights the bitterness and confusion for residents of southern Lebanon who have been unable to return home because Israeli troops are still present on Lebanese territory.

Israel's military has issued orders to residents of 60 southern Lebanese towns not to return home, saying they are prohibited from accessing their hometowns until further notice.

The US-brokered ceasefire deal grants both Lebanon and Israel the right to self-defense, but does not include provisions on a buffer zone or restrictions for residents.

"Why did we go back? Because there's a ceasefire," Tannoukhi said. "It's a halt to hostilities. And it is a natural right for a son of the south to go to his house."

The Israeli military did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

PEACE OF MIND

The ceasefire brought an end to over a year of hostilities between Israel and Lebanese armed group Hezbollah, which began firing rockets at Israeli military targets in 2023 in support of its Palestinian ally Hamas in Gaza.

Israel went on the offensive in September, bombing swathes of Lebanon's south, east and the southern suburbs of Beirut. More than 1.2 million people fled their homes.

After the 60-day ceasefire came into effect last Wednesday, residents of Beirut's suburbs returned home to vast destruction, and some Lebanese from the south were able to return to homes further away from the border.

But both sides began accusing each other of breaking the deal, with Israel saying suspicious movements in villages along the south constituted violations and Lebanon's army pointing to Israeli tank fire and airstrikes as breaches.

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, a father of 12, was hoping to return home to Beit Lif, about two km from the border.

But nearly a week into the ceasefire, he is still living at a displacement shelter near Tyre, a coastal city about 25 km from the border.

He tried to venture home alone last week, but as soon as he arrived, there was tank fire around the town and he received a warning on his phone that his town was in the Israeli military's "no-go" zone.

Sayyed is still stuck in displacement and wants to get home.

"I hope we go back to our town so we can get peace of mind," he said.