One year after a ceasefire was formally announced in the Gaza Strip, humanitarian workers on the ground report that daily life remains heavily overshadowed by continuous military operations, profound displacement, and severe shortages of basic necessities. Speaking out to share the realities of their communities, two aid workers with Islamic Relief, whose names have been anonymised to protect their safety, describe an environment where the promise of a ceasefire has failed to materialize in reality.
For the more than two million residents crammed into shrinking zones, the psychological and physical toll of ongoing conflict continues to dictate every aspect of survival. According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), Palestinians have been displaced from nearly 70 percent of the Gaza Strip, forcing the entire population to shelter within roughly 30 percent of the territory.
Layla, an Islamic Relief aid worker in Gaza, emphasizes that the situation on the ground bears little resemblance to a cessation of hostilities. "The current situation here in Gaza, with bombing and airstrikes still ongoing, cannot be called a ceasefire," she says. "There is no ceasefire in reality. They target displacement camps and crowded areas, so there is still a lot of fear."
The pervasive sense of danger extends to every corner of daily existence. Residents cannot move freely through the streets by car or on foot. The constant overhead noise of surveillance and attack drones acts as a relentless reminder of the threat of violence, while even homes that have survived earlier bombardments are viewed as unsafe. "We cannot say that we are 100 percent safe," Layla explains. "We are scared to even leave our homes, and of the noise of the drones above us. Even our homes themselves are unsafe. It’s hard to think you could be next. These are the hardships we’re facing; displacement, fear. The killing is non-stop and we cannot live our lives normally."
Reflecting on the initial announcement of the truce, Sameer, another Islamic Relief worker, notes that the news initially provided a fleeting sense of relief following years of intense devastation. However, that optimism quickly evaporated as airstrikes continued to hit residential areas. "When we heard the news about the ceasefire, it brought us some relief that we were still alive after what had happened over the 2 years before," Sameer recalls. "But afterwards we saw that it was not a ceasefire from the Israeli side."
He points to recent incidents near crowded tent encampments housing vulnerable women and children. With the majority of the population forced to live in temporary shelters or structurally compromised buildings, the risk of structural failure adds to the constant peril. Sameer recalls a tragic incident weeks prior when a damaged residential building collapsed upon sleeping children and families who were sheltering inside.
Because safe housing is virtually non-existent, most families remain in tents, facing acute shortages of potable water and electricity. "Because of the attacks, there is no building good enough to live in," Sameer says. "Most of us are living in tents and there is a huge issue with drinking water, for example. It’s nearly impossible to find a good drinking water source, or even an electricity source now."
The psychological impact of this protracted crisis is deeply internalized. Routine activities, such as walking with children or commuting to work, are fraught with anxiety. "When I go out walking with my children, any time a car comes up beside us, I fear that there will be an attack," Sameer explains. "Even when we’re at home, there is fear in every moment. Even leaving to go to work… it’s difficult to explain that feeling because it’s become something in our minds, in our lives, in every move we make."
Layla echoes these personal fears, noting the constant anxiety of losing family members, colleagues, or her own life. Despite these immense pressures, she notes that some commercial goods have begun trickling into the territory, creating occasional outward appearances of recovery on social media, such as newly opened coffee shops or restaurants. However, she stresses that these superficial signs do not reflect the deeper reality of widespread deprivation. "People want to live, want to recover, but even when we are trying to recover, I always think there will be something that will disappoint us, something that will interrupt any progress we make," she says.
Furthermore, humanitarian access remains heavily restricted. Only specific commercial goods are permitted to enter Gaza, while many essential items continue to be blocked. Coupled with a severe cash shortage across the territory and a lack of formal employment, prices for basic goods remain largely unaffordable for the average resident. The restrictions have also created critical shortages in medical supplies, leaving individuals with chronic health conditions—such as diabetes—struggling to find necessary medications.
To navigate these immense structural hurdles, organizations like Islamic Relief have adapted their operational strategies. Sameer notes that the charity has implemented food voucher programs, which allow families to select specific items from local shops. This approach not only provides recipients with greater autonomy and dignity during a period of acute crisis but also helps support struggling local businesses.
Particular attention is being paid to marginalized populations who have seen their support systems severely compromised. Sameer highlights that food vouchers have been distributed to individuals with disabilities in Gaza, a demographic he notes has largely been forgotten. Additionally, the organization continues to support more than 25,000 orphaned children and their guardians, many of whom are weathering extremely desperate conditions inside tent camps.
Delivering this aid, however, is a hazardous undertaking. Security concerns dictate every movement. Before traveling, staff must verify whether their intended destination is subject to active evacuation orders or recent military strikes.
As the conflict stretches past its third year, Layla expresses concern that international attention has begun to wane. With numerous crises unfolding globally, Gaza has largely faded from continuous news coverage and social media feeds, leaving residents feeling isolated. "Maybe after 3 years, Gaza is being forgotten," she observes. "We don’t have the action we used to see on social media and in the news. There is so much going on in the world, maybe Gaza is being forgotten even though the challenges and shortages are still enormous."
Despite the physical exhaustion, mental strain, and ongoing risks, Islamic Relief personnel emphasize that stopping their humanitarian mission is not an option. For Layla, the motivation to keep working stems from a fundamental refusal to remain passive in the face of widespread human need. "As humanitarian workers, we cannot just sit by and watch people suffering," she says. "We see them suffering and know we can help them, so we take the risk. In Gaza, just living is a big risk! We cannot see the struggles that people are facing and do nothing. It’s not in our nature or in the people of Gaza’s nature."
While acknowledging that her own living situation—returning to a partially damaged home with standing walls rather than sleeping exposed in a tent camp—offers a relative measure of safety compared to many of her fellow citizens, she remains committed to serving the broader community. "The humanitarian work must go on. We cannot just stop," she concludes. "Even if our intervention cannot help all 2 million people in Gaza, we can still make a difference in people’s lives, and this is the motivation for humanitarian workers. This is what moves us, this is what encourages us to just keep going, to just bear the hardships we are facing – the mental hardship, the physical, the stress, the exhausting circumstances – and just keep going."