Gaza Schoolgirl Longs to Return to Class as War Disrupts New Academic Year

A displaced Palestinian student, Rama Abu Seif, speaks during an interview with Reuters, at a school where she shelters with her family, as war disrupts a new academic year, in Deir Al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, September 2, 2024. REUTERS/Hussam Al-Masri Purchase Licensing Rights
A displaced Palestinian student, Rama Abu Seif, speaks during an interview with Reuters, at a school where she shelters with her family, as war disrupts a new academic year, in Deir Al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, September 2, 2024. REUTERS/Hussam Al-Masri Purchase Licensing Rights
TT

Gaza Schoolgirl Longs to Return to Class as War Disrupts New Academic Year

A displaced Palestinian student, Rama Abu Seif, speaks during an interview with Reuters, at a school where she shelters with her family, as war disrupts a new academic year, in Deir Al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, September 2, 2024. REUTERS/Hussam Al-Masri Purchase Licensing Rights
A displaced Palestinian student, Rama Abu Seif, speaks during an interview with Reuters, at a school where she shelters with her family, as war disrupts a new academic year, in Deir Al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, September 2, 2024. REUTERS/Hussam Al-Masri Purchase Licensing Rights

Gaza schoolgirl Rama Abu Seif longs to return to a classroom to study but it is now a dormitory for families displaced by war. Her books were burned to light fires in clay ovens. Her school bag is stuffed with clothes in case she needs to flee an Israeli bombardment quickly.

The 12-year-old missed grade six last year and will be deprived of grade seven as the war between Israel and the Palestinian group Hamas rages on.

"Of course, the children who are my age and younger than me, they all want to go back to northern (Gaza) and relive their school days, study and play at school, but all of that is gone and we lost two years because of the war," she said.

There are no prospects for Rama and many other children to return to school any time soon in the Gaza Strip, which has been laid to waste by Israeli bombardments.

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.

Instead of playing sports and games in the school playground, Rama waits in long lines for her turn to collect water, which is often dirty and undrinkable.

And there is no end in sight.

The United States, Qatar and Egypt have failed to mediate a deal that would secure a ceasefire and the return of hostages held in Gaza by Hamas, according to Reuters.

The latest bloodshed in the decades-old Israeli-Palestinian conflict was triggered last October when Hamas attacked Israel, killing 1,200 and taking about 250 hostages, according to Israeli tallies. Israel's subsequent assault on the Hamas-governed enclave has killed over 40,600 Palestinians, according to the local health ministry. Most of Gaza's 2.3 million people have been displaced, triggering a hunger and health crisis in the enclave.

Rama and her classmates can only recall better days in an impoverished yet once vibrant Gaza, one of the most densely populated areas in the world.

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

Since the war erupted, Gazans have fled up, down and across the territory, often repeatedly, seeking safety and a place to sleep in schools like the one in Deir al-Balah in central Gaza where Rama and her family live.

But nowhere is safe.

In early August, an Israeli airstrike on a Gaza City school compound housing displaced Palestinian families killed around 100 people, Gaza's emergency services said. Israel said the toll was inflated and 19 fighters were among the dead.

"In the past we would open the bag and find the book in it, so we would take the book and study," Rama said.

"But now we open the bag and find clothes inside it, clothes for displacement that we take with us wherever we go, from place to place."



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
TT

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.