The air at the beach in Gaza City last Friday afternoon was filled with squeals of happiness from young children running in and out of the water, the atmosphere a far cry from the destruction and rubble of the city as hundreds seek a momentary reprieve from the war.
The beach, about a 10-minute walk from town, is peppered with colourful umbrellas where adults hide from the strong afternoon sun and keep a watchful eye on young children playing in the nearby Mediterranean Sea. Many swim in their clothes rather than swimsuits — running to their parents in drenched t-shirts, wiping saltwater from their faces.
For a little while, thoughts of the war and the stress of trying to survive it are replaced by splashing, sandcastles and a sense of kinship. But even this small moment of joy can be tainted with memories of lost loved ones and the looming fear that things could still go wrong at any moment.
“When I came here, I cried,” Umm Fadi Awad told CBC News freelance videographer Mohamed El Saife as she sat with several other mothers under an umbrella while their children played nearby.
“In the last few years, I would come and the environment was so nice. Now it’s missing many things, even our happiness is not how it was in the beginning.”
Palestinians in Gaza explain how the beach, once a place for fun and beautiful memories, is now bittersweet as they find reprieve in the midst of the Israel-Hamas war.
Awad says she and her family have been displaced four or five times over the course of the war, moving between Rafah and Khan Younis before finally heading home to Gaza City during the first phase of the ceasefire in January.
That’s when Dr. Hanan Balkhy, the Eastern Mediterranean regional director for the World Health Organization (WHO), told an emergencies press briefing that “the psychological trauma facing the people of Gaza is unspeakable.”
She went on to say that the collective trauma from the war is “profound and beyond measure.”
So, as Palestinians look for any reprieve they can find, many turn to a day at the beach.
‘Everything changed’
Awad, 40, sits with friends around a battered table holding kettles of hot water for tea and coffee as one child eats a bowl of rice.
She says the beach is a place to rest and find peace in the chaos of their lives.
“This is the only space to breathe we have.”
Nearby, Heba Al-Masry admits she was scared to come to the beach at first, but she finally relented to the pleas of her children, and the second they arrived, she says they took off to play.
“I wasn’t able to hold onto my kids,” she explained. “They wanted to relieve the stress and the pressure.”
Al-Masry, 36, recalls when her family would come to the beach before the war, when the shops she knew well were still open.
“Everything changed,” she said, looking around at the people gathered on the beach.
“You feel like a stranger in every place you go.”
‘All our memories were here’
At another table, Taghreed Al-Khairy holds back tears remembering the special trips she would take to this same spot in the darkness of night with her 30-year-old son.
When he came home from work, he would tell her to come with him to the beach, where they would stay until dawn cracked through the clouds.
“We would sit in this spot,” she said. “All our memories were here, but now there are no nice memories.”
She cries as she looks at her phone, filled with photos of her son, who she says was martyred along with her husband, her daughter, her son-in-law and their children. She wishes for more beach visits with her son, more hugs from her grandchildren, and even longs for the normalcy of arguing over money with her husband.
These trips to the shore may be a chance for Gazans to briefly forget their problems, but they’re also filled with painful memories of loved ones lost in a war that continues to grind on.
Hope for ceasefire as Trump set to visit Middle-East
On Monday, Hamas released American-Israeli Edan Alexander, who’d been held hostage for 19 months, in what they said was a gesture of goodwill toward the Trump administration that could lay the groundwork for a new ceasefire with Israel.
Alexander, 21, was one of about 250 people taken hostage on Oct. 7, 2023, following the Hamas-led attack on southern Israel that killed about 1,200 people according to Israeli tallies. Israel’s responding ground and air invasion has killed more than 52,000 people, according to the Gaza Health Ministry.
The release of Alexander is the first since Israel shattered an eight-week ceasefire with Hamas in March, unleashing fierce strikes on Gaza. Many of the 250 hostages were freed in earlier ceasefire deals, and Israel says 58 hostages remain in captivity, with about 23 said to be still alive.
Hamas has freed Edan Alexander, believed to be the last living American hostage, ahead of U.S. President Donald Trump’s visit to the Middle East, raising hopes of a new ceasefire deal. The trip starts in Saudi Arabia with stops in Qatar and the U.A.E. Trump is skipping Israel this time.
Days before the ceasefire ended, Israel blocked all aid imports from entering the Palestinian enclave, deepening a humanitarian crisis and sparking warnings about the risk of famine if the blockade isn’t lifted. The government says the steps are meant to pressure Hamas to accept a ceasefire on Israel’s terms.
At a makeshift food distribution station in the heart of Gaza City, Abla Abu Halima waits her turn to scoop up a pot of lentil soup. With food in extremely short supply in Gaza, distributions have become chaotic, with people pushing and shoving. Many leave empty handed after hours of waiting.
The 39-year-old says she is optimistic that U.S. President Donald Trump will be able to help end the war in Gaza, especially in light of his upcoming trip to the Middle-East this week.
“We have hope in God as well as Trump to solve it — we have great hope in him,” Halima said.
Though Trump is not scheduled to visit Israel this time, he said in a social media post on Monday of Alexander’s release that “hopefully this is the first of those final steps necessary to end this brutal conflict.”
Halima, clutching her bowl of soup, said she hoped a ceasefire would mean stability and security for the people of Gaza.
“We want safety for our children, food and to provide them with an education.”
Giving her children a chance to breathe
Back at the beach, Al-Masry fidgets in her black, plastic chair, worried that her children are too far from the shore in the water, and that things could go bad very quickly.
“I keep my eye on them,” she said, admitting that she’s still scared there could be more strikes.
She says many of her fears and anxieties from the war manifest in her trying to always keep her children safe, but she reminds herself that they need to breathe — even if it’s just for a moment.
When the sun begins to set on this almost normal Friday afternoon at the beach, it’s a signal that it will soon be time to return to reality. Al-Masry and her children will make their way back to the family home in Gaza City, which was partially destroyed in the war. But she says it’s better than living in a tent.
As her two daughters and son run up, soaking from their swim, Al-Masry beams at the sight of them. Her youngest crawls into her lap, his smile quickly turning to tears as she wipes at his face.
