A dream return home turns into a nightmare wasteland

Nedal Hamdouna, a Palestinian journalist, describes the joy he felt in being able to return to Beit Lahia in northern Gaza and the pain of knowing just how much needs to be rebuilt

- Nedal Hamdouna

I spent 11 hours walking the road to north Gaza, the long road home. It was a journey I had been dreaming of for a year and four months.

The hike was long and hard: the road destroyed by tanks, bulldozers, and bombing. I saw an old man die along the way – his children crowded around him, trying to give him artificial respiration, calling for help from the air. There was a pregnant woman in tears, she said she had gone into premature labour from the pressure of the walk.

Seven kilometres in, people ran out of drinking water. Some parents had lost their children and other family members in the huge crowds. There was no means of communication, as the area had no mobile signal and transportation on this road was not permitted. After the elderly man died, a second appeared to slip into a coma from extreme fatigue. There were no ambulances working.

But still, people kept walking – a massive influx of people. Entire families, old and young, happy and excited, despite the length and difficulty of the road.

I had been displaced at the beginning of the war from Beit Lahia, my hometown in the far north of besieged Gaza. We had been forced to flee heavy bombardments multiple times: first to the centre, then south, and finally to the coast. And so, since the signing of the ceasefire agreement which includes displaced Palestinians finally being permitted to return north, I had been counting the days, hours, and moments when I could go home.

I was extremely anxious and tense that the deal would fail or be suspended moments before we left. All my thoughts and preoccupations were focused on this time passing quickly. For seven days, I couldn’t sleep.