I work for the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC), a Quaker organization that has been present in Gaza for over 77 years. AFSC began its work in 1948 when the United Nations asked it to organize relief work for Palestinian refugees who had been expelled from their land by Zionist forces.
For two years, AFSC’s Gaza staff helped establish and run 10 refugee camps in al-Fallujah, Bureij, Deir al-Balah, Gaza City, Jabaliya, Maghazi, Nusirat, Khan Yunis, and Rafah. They worked to establish food, shelter and sanitation as well as educational programs for children.
In the decades since, AFSC’s programs have provided support for agricultural development, kindergartens, midwife training, humanitarian aid, and trauma healing. Since Israel’s genocide began in 2023, AFSC staff in Gaza have provided more than one million meals, food parcels, fresh vegetables, hygiene kits and other essential items.
Now, for the first time since 1948, AFSC and dozens of other international organizations have been threatened with a ban by the Israeli government, threatening life-saving humanitarian work. This will have a devastating effect on the people of Gaza. And it couldn’t come at a worse time.
An ongoing genocide
The mass killings in Gaza have not stopped. Despite the cease-fire, Israeli forces continue to carry out attacks, airstrikes and widespread destruction throughout Gaza. The attacks have been going on since the ceasefire started on October 10 are killed More than 420 Palestinians and more than 1,150 injured.
And it’s not just bombs. Floods in Gaza have destroyed thousands of tents while heavily damaged homes are collapsing on residents. People are also losing their lives due to lack of medicines and proper healthcare; About 600 kidney patients have died due to lack of treatment.
Meanwhile, Israel continues to block access to temporary shelters, medicine and other much-needed goods.
These actions reinforce the long-standing Israeli policy of decolonization and annexation of Gaza. Israel’s restrictive new registration policies and efforts to restrict or limit international aid are part of these efforts. Silencing independent humanitarian voices and destroying humanitarian infrastructure creates conditions on the ground that make life impossible in Gaza. Gaza cannot recover or thrive without comprehensive reconstruction that restores the health system, education sector and critical infrastructure.
Two weeks before the cease-fire began, Israeli airstrikes hit my family home, killing nine of my closest relatives, including two of my siblings, their spouses, and their children.
When I spoke to surviving family members shortly after, they told me that “the responsibilities are lighter” – a phrase they use to express that there are now fewer people to care for.
Since that phone call, I haven’t stopped to think about what responsibility really means. It didn’t get any easier for me. He became heavy. Nine children became orphans. Each life taken from my family only increased the weight of responsibility—the responsibility to remember, to care for those left behind, and to bear witness to what had been done.
But this responsibility is not mine alone. It belongs to every nation, institution and individual that sits idly by while Gaza burns – and especially to the nations that have sent the bombs that continue to kill and destroy.
From 1948 to 2026
I first learned about the history of AFSC from my friend Ahmed Alhaj, who benefited from its work as a young refugee in 1948.
Ahmed died in January 2024 in Gaza City. It is heartbreaking that he lived his entire life as a refugee, telling stories of Israel’s 1948 genocide, only to spend his last days suffering the massacre. He died under siege and bombardment, ultimately losing his life because the necessary medicines were unavailable.
Ahmed’s story in Gaza in 2024 is as tragic as his story in 1948. Then, at age 16, he was a barefoot refugee from his village of Al-Sawafir after being ordered to evacuate Gaza. What changed over the years; What did not happen was a state of dislocation, displacement and abandonment.
But Ahmed’s story is not just one of displacement. Ahmed’s story is a story of love – love for his village. He lived his entire life as a refugee in a rented house in Gaza, refusing to own a house of his own so that he would never forget his village or the home his parents were forced to leave behind. For Ahmad, belonging elsewhere threatened to erase memory; Being a tenant was a loyalty.
This same love is embodied by many Palestinians who chose Gaza, even under fire. It is a devotion that defies siege, displacement and death. Ahmed’s love reminds me of the dedication of my mentor and friend Refat Alrer, who became a great storyteller of Gaza and gave voice to its people and their pain. On December 6, 2023, Israel killed Refat along with his brother, sister and nephew in a targeted strike on his apartment.
Like Ahmed, Refat paid for this love – an unbreakable connection to land and memory – with his life.
His poem If I Must Die has become a testament to love and enduring hope—a message that has traveled beyond Gaza and become a global story. Born out of siege and resistance, this poem takes Gaza’s humanity to the world, insisting on life, memory and dignity even in the face of death.
Gaza is growing
In 1948, there were 34 villages in the Greater Gaza District. One of them belonged to Ahmed. For our grandparents, Gaza was understood to be something far greater than the narrow strip it later became. Their sense of place was broad, rooted in villages, fields and unbroken geography.
However, our parents saw Gaza slowly shrinking. Once one of the largest districts in historic Palestine, the district was reduced in 1948 to approximately 555 square km (215 sq mi). It was further reduced to about 365sq km (140sq mi) when Israel established the so-called demilitarized zone – land that was eventually annexed at the direct expense of the people of Gaza.
Today, Israel occupies more than half of Gaza. He has imposed what is known as the “yellow line”, which acts as a new de facto border that continues to expand, adding new territories. Palestinians who cross it are executed. exactly Ally and JumaAges 8 and 10, not released. Gaza is not just under siege; It is being physically erased, meter by meter, generation by generation.
The Gaza we love transcends lines and borders. Although the majority of Palestinians in Gaza today are refugees from cities located in Israel, Gaza is the place we call home.
Today, Gaza has unleashed the imaginations and consciences of people around the world. It crosses artificial lines – yellow or green – drawn on geography and maps.
Israel can ban international organizations and journalists, arrest our medical staff and bomb our poets. It can destroy lives and homes and cause suffering beyond measure. But it cannot ban our struggle for justice or our innate human desire to help each other survive. Despite the many obstacles and challenges we face, our work to support the people of Gaza and the Occupied Palestinian Territory will continue.
Gaza means freedom, sacrifice and love, even in tents and rubble. And he will rise again from the ruins, as he has done throughout history.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the editorial position of Al Jazeera.