Gasans face a tough choice because their future is discussed on the world scene

Jabalia, which is viewed from the air, delights the spirit.

As long as the eyes see, wasteland, similar to Hiroshima. The broken carcasses of the buildings place the broken landscape, some lean at a mad angle.

Large wavy waves of fallen people do everything, but it is impossible to deal with the geography of this once lively, tightly stuffed refugee camp.

Nevertheless, when the drone flies over the wreckage, it chooses the splashes of blue and white, where small arms camps were created in the spots of open ground.

And the figures that arise through the broken buildings move through the streets of dirt, where nutrition markets arise under the tin and canvas sheds. Children who use the destroyed roof as a slide.

After more than six weeks, the Gazae’s delicate ceasefire, Jabalia slowly returns to life.

In the neighborhood of Al -Kasasib Nabil returned to a four -story house, which still stands, even if he lacks windows, doors and – in some places – walls.

He and his relatives made rough balconies of wooden pallets and strung a tarpaulin to avoid the elements.

“Look at the destruction,” he says, inspecting the ocean of Ruins Jabalia from the open top floor.

“They want us to leave without rebuilding it? How can we leave. The least we can do is restore it for our children.”

To prepare the food, pour the fire on the bare staircase, gently igniting it with pieces of torn cardboard.

On the other floor, Laila Ahmed Okash is washed out in a sink where the crane dried months ago.

“There is no water, electricity and sewer,” she says. “If we need water, we have to go to a distant place to fill the buckets.”

She says she cried when she returned to the house and found it crashed.

She accuses Israel and Hamas of destroying the world she knew.

“Both of them are responsible,” she says. “We had a decent, comfortable life.”

Shortly after the war began in October 2023, Israel told the Palestinians in the northern part of Gaza – including Jabalia – to move south for his own safety.

Hundreds of thousands of people listened to the warning, but many remained, decided to go to war.

Lila and her husband Marwan pressed up until October last year, when the Israeli military resumed Jabali, saying that Hamas had restored combat units in the narrow streets of the camp.

After two months, the shelter in the nearby Shati camp Leila and Marwan returned to find Jabali almost unrecognizable.

“When we came back and saw how it was destroyed, I no longer wanted to stay here,” Marvan says.

“I had a wonderful life, but now it’s hell. If I have the opportunity to leave, I’ll go. I won’t stay another minute.”

Stay or go? The future of the civilian population of Gaza is now the subject of international debate.

In February, Donald Trump suggested that the United States should take over gas and that almost two million Palestinian residents should leave, perhaps forever.

Faced with international indignation and cruel opposition by Arab leaders, Trump further retreated from the plan, saying he recommended it, but did not force him.

At the same time, Egypt led Arab efforts to come up with a viable alternative to be presented at an emergency Arab summit in Cairo on Tuesday.

The main thing is that it states that the Palestinian population should remain inside the gas until the area is reconstructed.

Donald Trump’s intervention revealed the stubborn side of the gas.

“If Trump wants to get us to leave, I’ll stay in the newspaper,” Lila says. “I want to go by my own. I won’t leave it.”

A nine -story yellow block of apartments is so impressively damaged on the way that it is difficult to believe that it has not fallen apart.

The upper floors completely broke out, threatening the rest. Over time, this will definitely need to be demolished, but so far more families at home. There are sheets in the windows, and washing hang to dry at the end of winter sunlight.

The most restless of all, outside the improvised plastic door opening on the corner of the first floor, next to the bouts and debris, stands without a dummy, wearing a wedding robe.

This is a Sanaa Abu Ishbak dress shop.

A 45-year-old seamstress, 11 years old, created a business two years before the war, but had to abandon it when in November 2023 fled south.

She returned as soon as the ceasefire was announced. With her husband and daughters, she is busy cleaning the garbage from the store, placing dresses on hanger and preparing for the business.

“I love Jabali’s camp,” she says, “and I will not leave it until I die.”

Sana and Lila seem to be equally determined to remain when they can. But both women talk differently when they talk about the young.

“She doesn’t even know how to write her name,” Lila says about her granddaughter.

“There is no education in Gaza.”

The girl’s mother was killed during the war. Lila says she still still talks to her at night.

“She was the soul of my soul and she left her daughter in my hands. If I have the opportunity to travel, I will do it for my granddaughter.”