Eid in Gaza: Joy as an Act of Resistance

This is the third consecutive year the author has spent Eid al-Adha in displacement, far from their home in Jabalia—now designated a 'red zone' under Israeli control. The war has destroyed most livestock farms, leaving only a very small number of sheep alive. Due to the Israeli blockade, livestock imports into the Gaza Strip have been banned since October 2023, driving the price of a single sheep to nearly $6,000—a tenfold increase. This staggering price surge has robbed many families of the joy of Eid and the ability to perform the traditional sacrifice ritual.

The blockade's impact extends beyond livestock. Prices for Eid-related goods like chocolate and dried nuts have also soared. A kilogram of chocolate now costs around $30, nearly four times its pre-war price, significantly dampening the holiday atmosphere for many families.

On the eve of Eid, the author stood by the window of their rented home in the Remal neighborhood, looking out at Kazem Ice Cream—one of the city's oldest and most famous ice cream parlors. The streets were lit up and crowded with shoppers, stalls selling chocolate, fruit, and cookies. For the first time in three years, the author, along with their mother and sister Zina, joined the crowd, buying ice cream and taking a stroll. Remal is one of the most densely populated areas of Gaza, especially on Eid night, where movement becomes nearly impossible due to the throngs of people and vendors.

The sound of planes overhead was deafening, buzzing continuously. The author's smile was abruptly cut short by the impact of rockets landing on the very street they were on. Four rockets were heard. Chaos erupted: shoppers scattered in panic, and a mother screamed, clutching her child, saying the building hit had her husband and children inside. Broken glass, debris, dust, and smoke engulfed the area.

The ice cream fell from the author's hand. They ran home and called their brothers, who were also shopping in Remal. Upon learning they were safe, the author returned to the window to observe. It was a surreal sight: shoppers—especially women and children—fled home, while others continued shopping as if to send a message that they could not be subdued. A second wave of explosions occurred just minutes later. According to sources cited by Al Jazeera, six people were killed and 20 wounded in the Israeli strikes on the Remal neighborhood.

Remarkably, just minutes after the attacks and panic, people returned to shopping. Shops and stalls remained open until 4 a.m. Despite the blockade and high prices, the streets were full—many unable to afford what they needed, but still coming to soak in the atmosphere and preserve fragments of joy.

On Eid morning, the author's family placed pastries and dried nuts on the table, wishing each other hope for an end to suffering and protection for Gaza. They ate frozen liver for breakfast—an attempt to recreate old Eid memories. Around 1 p.m., after the call to prayer, they heard people chanting: 'There is no god but Allah, and the martyr is the one He loves.' It was the funeral procession for those killed the night before in Remal. A source from Middle East Eye reported that on the first day of Eid al-Adha, 15 people were buried after being killed in Eid-night attacks across the Gaza Strip, including commander Mohammed Awda, his wife, and their three children.

As the author concluded: 'We do not celebrate Eid because we are well—we celebrate because we are still alive. And we believe our celebration is a form of resistance.'