Gaza is not a big place.

It is crowded. Everyone knows everyone. And somehow, everyone has been everywhere. I left when I was fifteen, but before that, I had stepped into most of the places on that list.
Al-Shifa Hospital — not only for emergencies, but because I was a messy, restless child who needed stitches more than once. And even there, I remember laughing with my cousins.
The Great Omari Mosque. The Rashad al-Shawa Cultural Center. The municipality building and the library.

These were not rare destinations. They were part of ordinary life. You went there on school trips. You passed by them on your way home. You performed there as a child who wanted to sing. You sat quietly in their corners. You grew up inside and around them.

Every person from Gaza carries at least one memory in one of these places. It is hard to choose just one.

If I begin to list the memories and the emotions attached to each building, it could take hours. I would not stop talking about the small, good moments of childhood. And I would not stop talking about the heaviness that comes with knowing that many of these places no longer exist. There is a strange emptiness in that knowledge. Like a hole in your chest.

The roads you walked are gone. The buildings you thought would always stand are demolished.
The places you long to visit again exist only in memory. And it is not just architecture that disappeared. It is routine. It is familiarity. It is the evidence that we were there.

Sometimes it feels like too much to hold in one body.”

- Wafaa Saied

Al-Shifa Hospital

healthpolicy-watch
  • Al-Shifa Hospital Complex is one of the largest health institutions in the Gaza Strip. It is located in northwestern Gaza, 500 meters from the Mediterranean Sea, between Shati' refugee camp and Al-Rimal neighborhood in central Gaza, and covers an area of 45,000 square meters.

    The hospital was opened as a medical facility in 1946 during the British Mandate on what previously was a military outpost of the British Army. As Egypt assumed control of Gaza City, following the 1948 Nakba, the hospital became centralized in the coastal enclave with expanded departments and more beds. With the occupation of the Gaza Strip in 1967, the hospital came under Israeli military rule.

    The hospital employs about 1,500 employees, including 500 doctors and 760 nurses, equivalent to a quarter of the hospital workers in the Gaza Strip, and it has 700 patient beds, according to statistics from Doctors Without Borders. The complex includes a number of specialized hospitals, including a surgery hospital, an internal medicine hospital, an obstetrics and genecology hospital with a premature baby nursery department, and an emergency department with an intensive care unit, radiology, blood bank and planning, and specialized outpatient clinics.

    The hospital was significantly expanded in 1980 by an Israeli company, under the supervision of the occupation army. The executing company was the same company that designed a similar Israeli hospital in the city of Hadera south of Haifa. The hospital was later transferred to the Palestinian Authority following the signing of the Oslo Accords in 1994, and it was expanded through the construction of new buildings and expansion of rooms. In 2006, the hospital became managed by the Palestinian Ministry of Health in Gaza after the Palestinian division.

    A World Health Organization (WHO) mission reported in April 2024 that the hospital is no longer operational, with most buildings destroyed and equipment rendered unusable.

    Sources: Institute for Palestinian Studies, World Health Organisation (WHO), Al Jazeera

  • I was around eight or nine years old. It was one of those crowded family days at my grandmother’s house. Everyone was cooking upstairs in the same building, and I was downstairs in the street playing with the other kids. I remember wearing a blue skirt — maybe it was Eid, I’m not even sure.

    Someone called me. My mom had sent word that we had a jar of sumac at home and they needed it for the food. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. I was always running. I was never a calm child. They used to call me “Hassan Sabi” because I was loud and constantly moving.

    I slipped on the stairs. The glass jar shattered in my hands. It cut my arm badly.

    I remember the crash more than the pain. I remember someone screaming. And then my father’s car.

    We went to Al-Shifa Hospital. Strangely, it wasn’t traumatic. The doctors stitched my arm. They joked with me to distract me. I remember the smell of the hospital, the white light, and mostly I remember the vending machine. My father bought me a hot chocolate. That part excited me so much. It felt like a small adventure, just the two of us.

    This wasn’t the only time I went there. I was a reckless, playful child — jumping rooftops, throwing stones, climbing everything. I had stitches more than three times. And every time, I ended up at Al-Shifa.

    But when I think about it now, I don’t remember fear. I remember warmth. Nurses trying to make me feel brave. Doctors treating me like a little hero. My father beside me.

    Now when I see Al-Shifa demolished, I know it was never just a hospital. It holds the small pieces of who we were — the everyday injuries, the laughter, the reassurance, the feeling that someone would take care of you.

    It’s not only a building that was destroyed. It’s the space where many of us were held together.

  • ‘‘Located in the West of Gaza city, Al Shifa was the main governmental hospital in Gaza city, located on the west side at the end of Alwihda street شارع الوحده. My first experience with it was as a visiting child when my father was hospitalized for a medical problem. Locals knew it as “Alshifa” without having to say hospital. It is remarkable how much the hospital was improved and enlarged into a medical complex after Israel left Gaza in 2005 and before it destroyed it during the ongoing genocide.’’

  • A conversation beween three women from Gaza rememering thier times around al-Shifa:

    “What was it called? Chips Al-Jamaheer. That one, that’s the one I love.” [laughs]

    “You used to go all the way to Al-Shifa Hospital just to eat ‘Chipsy Al-Jamaheer’?!”

    “But it was special. I don’t know how they made it, like a potato wheel. I don’t know how they made it round and fried it.”

    “Boiled potatoes like that, then they’d bake it.”

    “It was crowded in that area and kind of gross, but we’d go eat it with falafel and life was good!
    … And of course, one of the main things you have to mention about Gaza is Kazem Ice Cream. Kazem Ice Cream, we would empty the whole freezer. [laughs]

    “Yeah, Kazem Ice Cream! No, no, let’s stick to Al-Shifa Hospital.

    “Oh yeah! We used to always go to Al-Shifa.”

    “I only remember going into Al-Shifa Hospital once in my life, and I regretted it for the rest of my life!
    Listen, I went—poor Ahmad, he had just graduated, and instead of going to apply to France or wherever, he said, ‘Let me see if they’ll accept my degree in Palestine.’ That day they refused. They said it’s because his degree is foreign. They wouldn’t hire him.

    And then when he actually entered the hospital, he was completely shocked. And I went with him. I was kind of happy, like, ‘Oh, I’m going to Al-Shifa Hospital for the first time.’ My mom told me, ‘Don’t get excited—you’re not going somewhere nice.’

    So yeah, that was my Al-Shifa memory. The only time in my life I went there. But thank God we didn’t have to go there for anything serious.”

    “Yeah, of course, thank God.”

The Great Omari Mosque

  • The Great Omari Mosque is considered one of the oldest mosques in the Gaza Strip. It is located in the Old City of Gaza (Al-Daraj neighborhood), southeast of Palestine Square, near the Qaysariyya Market (“Gold Market”) and the historic Al-Zawiya Market. The mosque dates back to the 12th century AD and covers an area of about 4,100 square meters, with a courtyard of 1,190 square meters. It is distinguished by its minaret, which was built later during the Mamluk period: square-shaped in its lower half and octagonal in the upper half. The mosque consists of 38 marble columns surrounded by circular arches, topped with elevated domes, and has five gates. It was named after Caliph Omar ibn al-Khattab. It is believed that during the Roman era, the site was a temple dedicated to the god Marna and later became the Byzantine Church of Eudoxia.

    In the 7th century, Muslims converted it into a mosque. In 1149, the Crusaders transformed it into a cathedral dedicated to John the Baptist, most of which was destroyed in 1187 during the Ayyubid period. The Mamluks rebuilt the mosque in the 13th century, but it was destroyed by the Mongols in 1260. In the 16th century, the Ottomans rebuilt it again, 300 years after an earthquake had damaged it. The Supreme Muslim Council carried out a full reconstruction in 1926 after large sections of the mosque were destroyed and its minaret collapsed during World War I due to British aerial bombardment. Parts of the mosque were destroyed by Israel in 2014, and it was restored again in 2016 with Qatari funding.

    Source: Institute for Palestine Studies

  • My home is near the Great Omari Mosque and the church there.
    These are the places of the Old City residents.

    When I was six years old, I used to go to a school in Souq Al-Zawiya. On my way, I would pass by the Great Omari Mosque and see large numbers of worshippers gathering there. I would hear the distinct sound of the call to prayer. When the worshippers finished and came out, each of them would head to shop in the historic Souq Al-Zawiya, which holds so many beautiful memories for us and for all the Palestinian people—especially during the holy month of Ramadan and the holidays.

    And until now, at twenty-six years old, I still walk the same road that includes Katib al-Wilaya Mosque and the Church of Saint Porphyrius standing side by side. In our neighborhood, we show love to our neighbors and brothers in the church, and we offer them congratulations on their holidays. We have all lived through the horrors of fear and displacement during the war, and we have lost loved ones.

    My family and I did not move to the south of the Gaza Strip because of our deep attachment to the neighborhood where we live and to all the historical places within it. We used to pray Taraweeh and Eid prayers at the Great Omari Mosque.

    We see these places as an inseparable part of who we are.

  • I am Shahad Alnaouq, a writer from Gaza.
    The Great Omari Mosque holds deep memories from my childhood. At the end of each school term, we used to go on little trips, and one of the places we always visited was the mosque. We would tour it with a sheikh who would tell us about its history and explain how every stone carries a story and holds great significance. Afterwards, we would sit as he delivered a short sermon on topics like patience, good use of time for a student, true friendship, or the importance of prayer.

    Sometimes, we would buy pastries and za’atar manakish from a man named Abu Zohair and sip tea while enjoying the simple pleasures. When the mosque was destroyed, I cried for it deeply. It felt as a part of my childhood had been shattered.

    This place was more than a building; it was a landmark of joy and faith, a space filled with the laughter of friends, even at the wrong moments. I remember trying to contain my giggles during the sermons because of fearing the sheikh might catch me then feeling as small and silly.🤣😔 The Great Omari Mosque will always remain a symbol of happiness via simplicity and the sacred moments that shaped my early life.

  • Located in the heart of the old city just outside the gold market سوق الذهب and at the entrance of the main souq سوق التجار. I remember entering it as a child for the first time and being amazed at how big it was and how large its old bricks were. Its open court was always a great place to be in Ramadan, given it always felt cooler during the hot summer days.

  • I believe The Great Omari Masjid in all its plain antiquity, assertively imprints itself in the culture, history, and urban geography of the city. The fact that it lived through the story of gaza and gazans throughout the ages makes it a beautiful emblem of the city. Many have used it as a place of worship or study, but for me it has always been at the center of social life and bringing community together in Gaza; we’ve used it to have large gatherings, funerals, and even social events. This transcendent placement of a building is the very same why gaza built itself around it, and not vice versa!

    I find the inside of the building to be equally special. Its high ceilings, wide arches, and strong columns remind everyone what being iconic really is about. The tall small windows placed at the top its limestone walls let in warm sunlight that reflected gracefully on the carpets and wooden interior furnishings that survived many eras and wars, except the last one!

    At the beginning of our late displacement, still early on during the October 7 conflict, I asked my neighbours (who escaped with us to Rafah) about their thoughts on the demolition of Masjed Al Omari. And their response was "it has been destroyed before. And rebuilt. And by will it will be rebuilt again." Right there is the beauty of this landmark. It gives hope. And it is closely linked to Gaza on the map, and Gazans in real life with our deep roots to the city.

    P.S. I think it’s so cool that 'غزة هاشم' the phrase so closely associated with Al Saha and old town is written beneath the entrance plaque of the Omari Mosque!

Rashad al-Shawa Cultural Center

  • Rare example of Brutalist architecture in the Palestinian territories. It was designed by Syrian architect Sa'ad Mohaffel and is located between Gaza's old city and the beach. The Rashad Al-Shawa Cultural Center was the first of its kind built in Palestine, named after Rashad Al-Shawa, who served as the mayor of Gaza from 1972 to 1975. He envisioned building this center to serve as a Palestinian cultural front. The idea for establishing the center and designing its architectural and engineering plans began in 1978, and the center was completed in 1985, with the printing press starting to operate in 1986. The center officially opened to host events and activities in 1990, reaching the peak of its activity with the arrival of the Palestinian Authority to the Gaza Strip in 1994, reviving national events.

    The center had a distinctive design, consisting of two floors with a triangular ceiling. It was nominated for the Aga Khan Award for Architecture in 1992. Before its destruction, those in charge of the center took care to maintain and periodically renovate it to preserve its unique architectural form.

    The building hosted significant events in the history of the Palestinian cause, including sessions of the National and Legislative Councils, and visits from heads of state, including former U.S. President Bill Clinton in 1998 during the era of the late President Yasser Arafat, along with many other global and international figures.

    Sources: SOSBrutalism, gaza-city, The Palestinian Information Center

  • When I think about the Rashad al-Shawa Cultural Center, I feel like I return to my childhood and the very first traces of my artistic soul.

    It was the first place that embraced me as a young artist. I was in third grade when I participated in a movement performance about children’s rights with UNICEF. We trained there for months. It was the first time I ever stood on a stage in front of foreigners and many important people. That’s where my story began and where my love for movement art started. After that, I continued training and took part in Palestinian dabke performances. I would also go there to attend music concerts and art exhibitions, because I had loved art since I was little. This was something I inherited from my late grandfather, the Palestinian visual artist Kamel Al-Moghanni, known as the teacher of Palestinian artists.

    The Rashad al-Shawa Cultural Center was part of my daily life as a landmark I could see from our balcony. I used to drift into daydreams about it, especially at sunset, with a cup of coffee and Umm Kulthum playing. It always caught my eye and made me revisit my memories of it while it was still standing strong. Now, from the balcony, I can’t see it anymore because of its destruction. Maybe just a few remaining traces.

    Once at university, I even did a research project about it because I loved its design and its deep historical spirit. And when they painted it white in 2023, I felt like they erased part of its memory and dignity. Because historical places are beautiful with the marks of time, not with fresh paint or renovation.

    Today, I miss it. I miss the balcony where I used to sit and reflect on the world. It hurts that it was destroyed in the war and became a place for displaced people to sleep, with tents set up over its ruins. It feels as if part of my personal memory was buried beneath it.

    But despite everything, it will always remain my first artistic home, from third grade onward.

  • I saw that one of the places mentioned was the Rashad al-Shawa Cultural Center. My aunt was martyred a year and a half ago. She used to work there. She refused to work anywhere except at Rashad Al Shawa because it represented her ambition and her vision. Her dream was to help build a cultural community that speaks about the Palestinian cause and about Palestine as a whole through that center.

    This center meant a great deal to my aunt. May God have mercy on her soul. Her name was Nazek Al Sabbagh, and she was martyred a year and a half ago.

    I just wanted to share this story with you.

  • A conversation beween two women from Gaza rememering thier times around Rashad al-Shawa Cultural Center:

    Mais: I always remember that whenever I went to that area, the Rashad Al Shawa area, I would take a taxi especially just to go to Abu Al Saud and eat kunafa there.

    Shorouq: Really? Honestly, that’s true. That’s actually my only memory of Rashad Al Shawa. Do you know I have a story with Rashad Al Shawa? Guys, the first driver’s license I ever got was in Gaza. I was about to fail, but since I sort of “sweetened them up,” I tried to fix things with them. I brought them kunafa from Abu Al Saud. Back then there were no automatic cars for the driving test. You had to take the test with a manual gear car. And you know Gaza’s hills and slopes and all that. So what did I do? I parked outside Rashad Al Shawa and brought kunafa from Abu Al Saud there. If you remember, they used to do all the driving tests around that roundabout near Rashad Al Shawa. I used to always park there and practice.

    Souad: Yes, the traffic department and the police were there.

    Shorouq: Yes, exactly, the traffic department was right next to it. So that’s my story with Rashad Al Shawa. What about you, besides the kunafa?

    Mais: I would eat the kunafa, and I would purposely order one Istanbul-style and one Nabulsi-style, because it was so delicious I didn’t want the trip to go to waste. I wanted to taste this one and taste that one. Then I’d go home feeling like I was going to die, like I was going to explode, almost wanting to cry from how full I was. But that’s Abu Al Saud’s kunafa! And I’d take a taxi both ways, tiring myself out just for it. That’s my story. That’s my story with Rashad Al Shawa.

Building of al-Nasr Cinema

  • An-Nasr Cinema was built in 1956. Historian Abaher el-Sakka was able to locate plans and drawings in the Gaza City archives. He notes that An-Naṣr was part of a wave of cinemas that opened during the 1950s, after the end of the British Mandate and under Egyptian rule, during what was the golden age of cinema in Gaza and Palestine. An-Nasr Cinema is built on a large plot of land overlooking 'Umar al-Mukhtar Street, at the intersection of a wide secondary road. The size of the plot (over 50 dunums, or more than 50,000 m²) allowed for the construction of a large building while maintaining a certain distance from both streets. The cinema's most remarkable feature is its immense semicircular balcony overlooking the vast entrance. It is supported by four cylindrical columns (the plan called for six). The entrance hall, or foyer, is 13 meters high and decorated with armchairs. This is where the corridors leading to the exceptional services the cinema offered when it was first established (shops, offices, restrooms, and a buffet on each floor) begin. A double staircase rises to the balcony on the first floor of the thousand-seat auditorium, which has ten private boxes for regular and prominent spectators. The plans were drawn up by Cairo architect Said Zaghlul Ibrahim. They are characteristic of the architecture of the 1950s and 1960s in major cities around the world, with large openings and the use of Securit glass for the foyer doors, a feature that only became widespread in Palestine in the 1970s. The cinema is also characterized by its gabled roof, with the roof windows allowing both light and ventilation.

    It is on UNESCO's list of cultural assets damaged in the Gaza War.

    Sources: Gaza Places, Gaza Histoire

  • It was one of three cinemas in Gaza located just off Omar AL Mokhtar street – not too far from the western end of souq frass. I entered the cinema as a child for a show as part of a school trip. I remember sitting there and wondering how big the screen was (keep in mind that TVs were very rare at the time). The cinema was painted white in the outside with blue glass covering most of its circular entrance. The busiest time for the cinema was usually around Eid time where most kids would go in groups. Later, the cinema was closed, but it remained as one of my most vivid memories of Gaza.

  • Growing up in Gaza in the 60s, Ialways looked forward to Sundays. We would gather at Teta Melvina and Sido Khader’s house, the whole family coming together for lunch, the house full of voices, food, and a feeling of deep belonging. After lunch, we’d go to Cinema Nasr. As evening fell, we’d return to make manakish zaatar together, hands busy, hearts full. Those Sundays are among my most cherished memories. ... By Suha Ayyad

  • A conversation beween a mother and her daughter from Gaza rememering thier times around Cinema Al-Nasr

    Souad: Before ’67… in ’67 the cinemas closed after the war. We were living near Al-Samer Cinema, right between Al-Samer and Al-Nasr Cinema. You know? Just a couple of steps away, like you and your neighbors going out together. When we were young, we loved the cinema. My brother used to take me, and we would both go in with just one ticket. Every time he went, my mom would say, “If you’re going, then take your sister with you.”

    Shorouq: What kind of movies did you watch?

    Souad: Oh my! All the old movies. This was in the early sixties, from 1960 until 1967, those few years. I remember one film very clearly, I never forgot it. It was Jamila Bouhired, and it was extremely famous. Everyone wanted to see it.

    Shorouq: The one about Warda?

    Souad: Yes, about the Algerian woman, how they shaved her hair and tortured her. We were scared watching it, we were so young. That was in the early sixties. I watched it and I still haven’t forgotten it.

    Shorouq: After that, they stopped bringing movies. I remember the only time I went to Al-Nasr Cinema. It was actually my first school trip. I was so happy. We were little and didn’t really understand.

    Souad: After ’67, that was it, they closed.

    Shorouq: No, the issue was that after the governments changed, they banned all the films and only showed cartoons. We were small and didn’t understand that a cinema is supposed to show regular movies for people. They changed it so it was only cartoons. I just remember how happy I was to go to the cinema. Then I went home and Dunia made fun of me, saying, “You think you watched a movie? That’s cartoon, silly. We’re supposed to watch real films with real actors like in the old days.” So I told her, “Okay, don’t burst my bubble.”

    Souad: Of course, the old black-and-white films, all of that stopped. The ticket used to cost maybe two qirsh. Back then it was the Egyptian pound, so maybe two qirsh for a ticket. We’d sit in the front because it was the cheapest. He was just a boy, it was his allowance, where would he get money from? And every Friday, since it was a school holiday, we wanted to go. He loved watching the acting and then he’d come home and imitate the actors. So he’d take me with him and we’d sit and watch together.

    Shorouq: Beautiful memories.

    Souad: They really were, I swear. We’d bring sunflower seeds and keep cracking them the whole time we were sitting there. The cinema experience was lovely.

    Later people started saying no one should go to the cinema, that we were under occupation الاحتلال and so on.

    Shorouq: But they reopened it after it was burned down. They rebuilt it.

    Souad: At the end, before we left…

    Shorouq: I remember in the 2000s, my first school trip was around 2006, I think. They took us there. It was allowed, but only educational cartoons were permitted.

    Souad: They closed them in ’77. I left Gaza in ’79, and everything was closed. There were no cinemas at all when I left and went to the UAE. There had only been three cinemas: Al-Samer, Al-Nasr, and Al-Jalaa. In the Al-Jalaa area, near the police station, there was a cinema called Cinema Al-Jalaa. Sometimes we went there, but it was farther away. Since we used to go almost every day or every other day, we’d look at the posters and see what movies were coming soon. We’d sit and plan what we wanted to watch.

    They were truly beautiful days when we were young.

Al-Azhar University

  • Al Azhar University-Gaza (AUG) is a Palestinian, public, non-profit and independent higher education institution. Established in 1991 by a presidential decree issued and signed by the late Palestinian President Yasser Arafat, AUG is committed to provide successive generations with solid education, contribute fundamentally to achieve the Palestinian dream in creating a Palestinian national university able to fulfill the ambitions and dreams of the Palestinian upcoming generations, and help them pursue their higher studies under the supervision of highly qualified Palestinian cadres. AUG had modest beginnings with only two faculties; the Faculty of Law, and the Faculty of Education. However, AUG has made great strides in becoming one of the leading universities in Palestine. It has currently twelve faculties that offer a spectrum of undergraduate and graduate programs, central library, two campuses, and centers established to serve the Palestinian community.

    Thousands of Palestinian students have joined AUG, pursuing studies in different academic fields, and acquiring the Palestinian values to help them take part in the construction of their own state. AUG has currently around 16000 undergraduate students in twelve faculties

    AUG seeks to achieve excellence in higher education and scientific research at both regional and international levels, supported by the mission to positively contribute to the advancement of Palestine by preparing distinctive students and graduating who are capable of taking charge and leading the future of Palestine in order to achieve the Palestinian dream of liberty, independence and state building. 

    Sources: Top Universities, AURDIP, Al-Azhar University Website, Middle East Monitor

  • I am a graduate of Al-Azhar University, with a bachelor's degree in English-French literature.
    I have so many memories that I will never forget... from the green salon downstairs, to the corridors, to the halls, even my seat in the French language department, seat number 7, I will never forget it.

    But what I remember most and still keep in mind from my university days is my teacher, Mr. Ehab Abu Malouh, may God make things easy for him and grant him success.
    He used to get angry with us, and if he got too angry, he would say: “Come on, everyone go outside and get some sun for five minutes... Vitamin D!”
    And of course, we spent most of the time sunbathing in that department 😂☀️

    He was a wonderful professor, combining firmness with gentleness, and he left an indelible mark on me.
    God knows what has become of him in the war... The last thing I know about him is that he was working on his doctorate in Belgium.
    Fate brought us together in Belgium, but we haven't met since. God willing, he is well, wherever he is.

    Dunya Hijazi

Hammam al-Samra

  • The building was believed to be the only active hammam, also known as a public bathhouse, remaining in Gaza. It is located in the Zaytoun neighbourhood of the besieged enclave. 

    The hammam boasted Ottoman architecture and had several rooms, each with a different temperature. It was managed by Haj Salim Abdullah al-Wazeer and the building is over 1,000 years old. 

    A wall at the entrance of the building dates back to the Mamlouk era.

    Sources: Middle East Eye, Institute for Palestine Studies

  • My Day at Hammam Al-Samra

    I walked into Al-Samra Bath as a bride-to-be, my heart fluttering with nervous joy. The ancient walls seemed to whisper stories my grandmother once told me.

    With my friends and family , our laughter echoed under the old domes. The steam, the scent of olive soap and herbs it felt like stepping into a sacred ritual.

    The attendant’s experienced hands massaged me with aged olive oil, washing away my single life, preparing me for the next chapter. Around me, women sang and shared stories while warm water melted my worries away.

    In that moment, I felt connected to generations of Palestinian women who had sat here before me. Their spirit seemed to bless my path forward.

    I left with more than a clean body—I carried a memory etched in my heart and the blessing of this timeless place into my new life. Even now, I can still feel its warmth.

    Sincerely,
    Nardeen Faris

  • Located in the old city across the street from the "tailors street" and only a few meters away from the Grand Omari Mosque – across from Omar al Mokhtar Street. It is a historic Turkish Bath that was built during the Ottoman era. It used to be one of the most memorable landmarks for me growing up in Gaza.

    I recall vividly how my father and his friends would gather each other very early on Friday mornings (at least once a month) to walk to hamam Al-Samara with their towels in their hands. It felt like "party going" for them. My father will come home and talk to us about how great it was for his back pain. I personally did not attend it because it was for adults only at the time. I, however, was always facinated by its antique and mysterious entry - wondering what it is like inside.

  • A conversation beween three women from Gaza rememering thier stories around Hammam al-Samra:

    Mais: There was this German girl who worked with me, and she wanted to go to Hammam al-Samra. She asked me, “Will you come with me, Mais?” I told her, “Of course, I'll take you.” We got approval from security and took her to Hammam al-Samra. She came with me and I took her to Um Al-Abed. I told Um Al-Abed to take good care of her. Um Al-Abed kept on scrubbing her and scrubbing her. This poor woman, had her skin scratched! The next day she had to take a sick leave!

    Shurouq: My dear, also you, I remember when you came back that day, you were red, you looked like a boiled chicken! [laughs]

    Mais: Yes, but it was so much worse for her. She couldn’t make it to work the next day. At that time, Mamdouh from security, my manager at the time, asked me, “What did you do to her?” I told him I didn't do anything, that was Um Al-Abed’s fault. “That's just the culture.”

    Shurouq: So, the important thing is that she had a cultural experience![laughs]

    Mais: At the time, she regretted going so much. She came back to work the next day or the day after, red and with a scratched neck. It was so embarrassing! This is my story with Hammam al-Samra.

    Reem: When we went, I stayed at the door and didn't go in![laughs]

    Mais: Reem almost fainted (from the steam), and I revived her.

    Reem: The important thing, was to say that I entered Hammam al-Samra! and I spent most of the time by the door [laughs]

Gaza City’s Municipal Public Library

  • The Gaza Municipality Public Library was established in 1997 and officially inaugurated in 1999 in cooperation with the Urban Association of Dunkirk Municipality in France, the World Bank, and the Union of French Cities. Around eight municipal employees were sent to Dunkirk, France, where they received practical training on the computerized M2L Integrated Library Management System and on book classification using the internationally recognized Dewey Decimal System. This team was then qualified to return and manage the library according to the most advanced international standards. The library is also equipped with electronic security systems to protect its collections.

    The mission of the Gaza Municipality Public Library is to promote a culture of reading, research, and creativity through the use of modern technology, making it a center of excellence for knowledge production and cultural exchange. Its main objectives are to raise public cultural awareness, encourage constructive use of leisure time, revive and promote popular culture, support social and economic development through free scientific research, and nurture literary, scientific, and artistic talents by providing access to resources and opportunities for creative expression and learning.

    In November 2023, it was destroyed in airstrikes carried out by Israeli Occupation Forces.

    Sources: Washington Post, mogaza, Facebook

  • A conversation beween two friends from Gaza rememering thier times around the Public Library:

    Yasmine: Is this the municipal library that used to be on Al-Wahda Street, next to the police station and the garbage lot?

    Younes: Yes, that’s right.

    Yasmine: I remember that building—its door was red, and it had this kind of dark iron fence. I remember that during that period, after we moved there, we were living in that area in an apartment building in the Al-Zared area. Later we moved somewhere else, I don’t remember where. But I worked handling the accounts of a German organization in Gaza called DVV, where they preferred I learn German. If you wanted to learn German, the place in Gaza that taught German was the Municipal Public Library, or Gaza Municipality Library. I don’t remember the exact name, but it was the municipal public library, and it had an institute called the Goethe Institute. That’s where people would learn German. I registered there to take German classes, but I didn’t continue—I didn’t even start—because I was doing my master’s degree and had a lot of pressure. Is this the same library?

    Younes: My experience with them was very simple. I was a member of the scout music band at the Holst Cultural Center. Since we lived near the Holst Cultural Center, I became part of the scout team. You know, the scout marching band music?

    Yasmine: Yes! I remember I used to play the oud. You used to play something you blow into.

    Younes: No, I used to play the snare.

    Yasmine: The thing you blow into?

    Younes: No, the snare. And I also played the baton—I performed with the baton. We were at school. I was at Al-Yarmouk School. The principal was Majed Abu Sharar, and later Hussein Al-Darami. Anyway, this was either in seventh or eighth grade, so that would have been before 2000, between 1999 and 2000. I went and played with my friends. We performed what they called ceremonial marches when guests arrived. Before that, I remember our first performance was at the opening of the Red Crescent Hospital in Tal al-Hawa, which was inaugurated by Abu Ammar. I remember that clearly. That event was the second or third performance we did. After our performance at the Red Crescent headquarters, there was a municipality celebration where we also played.

    Yasmine: So you entered the library and held a celebration there?

    Younes: Yes, we went in, and afterward I got a library membership. Because the library was close to our house. And it was near the station—Abu Asi station. After Abu Asi station, before the district area, there was a municipal place where they kept meters, pipes, and other things, next to the car garage.

    I also played the snare at the opening ceremony of the library, or its renovation or reconstruction. I remember that clearly. We went during the daytime, not during school hours. We skipped school that day. That was my experience with the municipal library.

    Yasmine: One more question, you were in Gaza until February 2024. While you were still in Gaza, did you hear that the building was bombed, or did you only find out after you left, or do you still not know? The building was bombed.


    Younes: I don’t know if it was completely destroyed, but I heard they hit the workshop next to the building—the car garage. Municipal employees who were providing civil defence services and working on the water network next to the library were hit and burned alive. The library is located on a large municipal property. Next to it on the right, before you reach Al-Yarmouk Stadium, the municipality’s stadium, there’s a garbage lot.

    Yasmine: I’m not sure whether it was completely demolished or partially damaged, but it was bombed.

    Younes: I’m very sad about this news because the library had a large number of employees and provided many important services to people, including academic research services that benefited many, especially given the scarcity of books in the country.

    It had many rare books.

    Yasmine: And everyone knows that anyone who wanted to travel to Germany would go there to take the German language test or study at the Goethe Institute there.

Historic Municipality building of Gaza

  • The historic Gaza Municipality Building, located on Omar Al-Mukhtar Street in Gaza City, is a remarkable example of early 20th-century architecture, known for its beautiful decorations and distinctive geometric designs. It was constructed between 1928 and 1934 during the presidency of Mr. Fahmi Al-Husseini and served as the main headquarters of the Gaza Municipality until the late 1960s, when operations moved to the current municipal building in Palestine Square.

    Tragically, on January 20, 2024, Israeli Occupation warplanes bombed the historic building, destroying its foundations and leaving it on the brink of collapse. Once a symbol of Gaza’s civic heritage and architectural beauty, the site now stands as a testament to the city’s enduring struggle to preserve its history amid devastation.

    Video showing the destruction that struck the historic municipality building.

    Source: Institute for Palestine Studies

  • Located in the heart of Palestine square (better known as alsaha الساحه او ساحة التكسيات) on top of a hill just before souq frass سوق فراس. The building was another landmark for travellers as they would ask the taxi driver to take them to “albaladya” or alssaha. The building was very synonymous with the famous mayor of Gaza Hajj Rashad Al Shawa الحاج رشاد الشوا– who was known for bringing meaningful infrastructure projects to Gaza despite the occupation. I recall how every time I passed by that building, I would wonder if Hajj Rashad was in there. I entered the building several times with my father, who would mostly visit to renew the license/registration for his grocery store (Dukkan دكان).

To all Schools in Gaza…

  • This snapshot from the UNRWA outlines the results of assessing the probability of damage to school buildings by analyzing their proximity to damaged sites identified by the United Nations Satellite Centre (UNOSAT) using data collected on 08 July 2025.

    MAIN FINDINGS

    ▪ This exercise indicates that 97% (a +1.6% increase from the previous reporting period) of schools sustained some level of damage to their buildings, this includes “Direct hit”, ”Damaged” and “Likely damaged”.

    ▪ Nearly 91.8% of school buildings in Gaza (518 out of 564) will either need full reconstruction or major rehabilitation work to be functional again.

    ▪ The assessment found that 432 school buildings (76.6% of the total school buildings in Gaza) have been “Direct hit” since 7 October 2023, an increase of 26 school buildings (+4.6%) since the previous reporting period.

    Source: UNRWA,UNRWA: Education under attack

  • When I read the list of places, my first thought was my school.

    I studied in one school my entire nine years in Gaza — from first grade until ninth grade. It was four minutes from my home. Three minutes from my best friend’s house. It was part of my daily rhythm. I walked there every morning without thinking.

    My school was my first stage in life. My classmates were my first audience. That is where I discovered my voice. I performed. I spoke. I laughed too loudly. I grew into myself there.

    Some of my best memories live in those classrooms and corridors. The ordinary days. The noise between classes. The feeling that life was still simple. Now I know it has been burned and then demolished. And something inside me collapsed with it.

    Because when you grow into adulthood, you hold on to the places that built you. My school shaped who I became. It wasn’t just a building where I studied. It was where I learned how to exist.

  • Hi, my name is Hasan. I was born in Gaza in 2005, and I completed my elementary education at Al Wehda Private School. I still carry many cherished memories from that time, especially my very first birthday celebration there. It was an incredible feeling to be surrounded by my loved ones and have the chance to miss a school day with no consequences 😃.
    Sadly, the school was demolished during the 2023 war for no reason at all. It was an empty private property, simply waiting for students to return once the war ended. Now, nothing remains but memories.

  • I attended elementary and middle school at Al-Daraj School. As for high school, I attended Al-Ramla and Al-Zahra Schools.

    Of course, all my memories and childhood are in this school. I used to wait for school with love and I didn't want to miss even a day in winter because I was so attached to it and its teachers. They encouraged me a lot and waited for me to get there every morning. One of the beautiful moments in school was when the teachers used to asked me to read big words in English every day.

Qasr al-Basha Museum

  • It was located in the Daraj quarter, is a large palace with two floors and dates to the Mamluk era.  Its decorations include the rank, or heraldic emblem, of Sultan al-Zahir Baybars. It was the residence of the governors of Gaza in the Mamluk and Ottoman periods. The palace was named after the Ridwan family who owned it at the beginning of the Ottoman era. Napoleon Bonaparte stayed for three nights at that Palace during his campaign against Syria in 1799, and the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities had restored the palace and refurbished it as a museum.

    Hajj Abdul-Raouf Al-Ghazali (71 years old) is one of thousands of Palestinians who deeply understand what this landmark meant. He recalls: “As a child, I used to play in the alleys of the neighborhood, and Qasr al-Basha stood tall before me like a mountain. Years passed and conditions changed, but the palace remained in its place.”

    He added, in an interview with Al-Akhbar newspaper, “It wasn’t just an old building, but a living museum where we lived our history. Its walls told the stories of our ancestors, and every corner whispered secrets of the Mamluk and Ottoman eras.”

    Source: Institute for Palestine Studies, The Palestinian Information Center

  • Taken from Stones of memory, an article by Alaa Dmeida

    Then, we visited Al-Basha Palace or as it called in Arabic, Qasr Al-Basha. It has a long history and is now home to local leaders and used for official affairs.

    According to Quds Press, which quoted Hammouda Al-Dahdar, the official responsible for the restoration of the historic Al-Basha Palace, more than 17,000 artifacts dating from the Mamluk, Ottoman, Byzantine, Roman, and prehistoric periods were contained in the palace. This report, which was published on November 16, 2025, noted that after the 2023 genocidal war on Gaza, the Israeli occupation forces stole all the artifacts from the palace and destroyed nearly all of them. After digging under the rubble, Gazans have recovered only 20 artifacts so far.

  • Taken from “The destruction of Qasr al-Basha: Erasing Gaza’s historical identity byThe Palestinian Information Center (PIC)

    Qasr al-Basha’s director, Nariman Khallah, emphasized that the palace “was not just a historical building, but a living memory pulsating with Gaza’s history and a face of its cultural and national identity.”

    She added, “For years, we worked to preserve and restore it. We reopened it several times to receive visitors from Gaza and beyond, making it a center for learning, reflection, and civilizational dialogue.”

    Khallah recounts an intriguing historical connection between the palace and French leader Napoleon Bonaparte during his eastern campaign in the late 18th century. According to historical accounts, Napoleon stayed at Qasr al-Basha in 1799 while moving from Egypt to the city of Acre during his military campaign in the Levant.

    She added, “Napoleon entered Gaza and made Qasr al-Basha his temporary headquarters. From there, he planned his attack on Acre and gathered his top commanders to discuss military strategy. That’s why the locals often refer to it as ‘Napoleon’s Palace,’ even though the building is much older and dates back to the Mamluk era.”

    Khallah pointed out that Napoleon’s stay gave the palace a European historical dimension, making it one of Gaza’s most prominent and most visited archaeological landmarks, especially by those interested in the intersections of Palestinian, regional, and global history.

    She explained that the palace housed between 500 and 700 artifacts, including pottery and glass pieces, ancient coins, and a rare Ottoman Quran manuscript, “which would only be found in the palaces of sultans and princes.”

    Khallah stressed that the bombing “was not random, but deliberate, aiming to erase historical landmarks that testify to Palestinian presence on this land.” She believes the occupation “wants a generation without memory, without history, without roots. The destruction of Qasr al-Basha is part of this systematic policy.”

Khader Tarazi House

  • It is located on Omar Al-Mukhtar Street near Al-Nasr Cinema in Gaza City, is a distinguished example of early to mid-20th-century Palestinian residential architecture. Built in a modern Arab style that blends local traditions with Ottoman and British Mandate influences, the home features a central courtyard, arched windows and doorways, decorative stonework, and symmetrical facades. A marble plaque above the entrance reads, “Whatever blessings you have are from God.” The late Khader Tarazi purchased the house and its adjoining orchard from the late Saeed Al-Husseini. Mr. Tarazi was a member of one of Gaza’s prominent Christian families, and served not only as a private home but also as a social and cultural hub during the Mandate era—hosting gatherings, community discussions, and family events that reflected the family’s standing and influence in Gaza’s Christian community.

    The Israeli occupation army bombed the Tarazi House during the 2023–2024 genocide, causing extensive damage to large parts of the building.

    Source: Institute for Palestine Studies, Gaza Places

  • My name is Nahid Wadi Tarazi. The Khader Tarazi House is my Sido’s house. Khader Tarazi is my grandfather, and this house holds many memories for me.

    Every Sunday we would gather there for lunch in the large dining room next to the kitchen in winter. While in summer we would have lunch on the large veranda overlooking the orchard.

  • I had such wonderful memories of Gaza, the house, the cousins, البيارة (the orchard), the hosing down with water بالبربيج outside the house (after beach😊), the holidays...

    I feel that Sido's house was the "heart" where we cousins built the warm, close bonds that we have been blessed with as a family. These are memories that I deeply cherish." -Marwan Wadea Tarazi

  • Growing up in Gaza in the 60s, I always looked forward to Sundays. We would gather at Teta Melvina and Sido (Grandfather) Khader’s house, the whole family coming together for lunch, the house full of voices, food, and a feeling of deep belonging. After lunch, we’d go to Cinema Nasr. As evening fell, we’d return to make manakish zaatar together, hands busy, hearts full. Those Sundays are among my most cherished memories. …. By Suha Ayyad

  • The Tarazi family used to be our neighbours.
    Especially, the three doctor brothers. Then, Joseph Tarazi was my best friend from elementary school. I grew up in that neighborhood around the church. I miss those beautiful days!

Church of Saint Porphyrius

  • The Church of Saint Porphyrius in the city of Gaza is one of the oldest Greek Orthodox churches, built in the Byzantine architectural style. Its construction began at the start of the fifth century AD, led by Saint Porphyrius, who worked to spread Christianity under the orders of the Byzantine Empire.

    The architects chose to design it in the shape of a ship, as ships at that time symbolized a lifeline from the dangers of the land and those upon it. The Church of Saint Porphyrius stood in the Al-Zaytoun neighbourhood, east of Gaza City, as a reliable witness to the coexistence that took place between followers of Christianity and Islam throughout the ages. The engravings that adorned its interior walls, along with the hymns, told the story of Saint Porphyrius, who fought against non-divine beliefs in Gaza and worked to spread Christianity until he died there.

    St Porphyrius, believed to be the world’s third oldest church, was hit by an Isreali Occupation bombardment on 20 October 2023.

    Source: World Council of Churches,Sky News Arabia, Anadolu Ajansı

  • The ancient church is also located in the old city in a street called Fahmi baik street شارع فهمي بيك. It is adjacent to Katib walayat mosque مسجد كاتب ولايات. The neighbours of the church were a mix of Muslim and Christian families such as Tarazi, Ayad, and Farah (Christian families), and Ghalayeeni, Qahwaji, and Saqaallah (Muslim familes). I remember going to play at the court of the church as a child with my Christian classmate. One of the memories engraved in my mind about the church is when the call for Muslim prayers and the bells of the church will come together sometimes.

  • I still walk the same road that includes Katib al-Wilaya Mosque and the Church of Saint Porphyrius standing side by side. In our neighborhood, we show love to our neighbors and brothers in the church, and we offer them congratulations on their holidays. We have all lived through the horrors of fear and displacement during the war, and we have lost loved ones.