Gaza Groans with Sorrow for Its Residents Deprived of the Sweetness of Eid Decorations, Toys, New Clothes, and Eid Cookies… Missing Traditions

As Eid al-Fitr approaches, cities are usually filled with the sounds of vendors, the aroma of holiday sweets, and the colors of new clothes. Markets bustle with children eagerly awaiting the joy of Eid with hearts full of life. But in Gaza, the picture is entirely different. Instead of decorations hanging on doors, the marks of destruction loom, and instead of children’s laughter, the heavy silence left behind by harsh days echoes through the alleys.

In streets that once overflowed with life, children now walk among the rubble, searching with their small eyes for the remains of a toy or a piece of old cloth that might serve as an Eid outfit. There are no shop windows displaying clothes, no gift bags carried with excitement. Here, Eid arrives shyly, weighed down by deadly hunger and biting cold, as if joy itself has become a missing guest.

Mothers who once prepared their children’s new clothes days before Eid now stand helpless before a harsh reality. There is no money to buy clothes, no markets filled with goods, and no toys waiting for the little ones. Only hearts heavy with sorrow and small dreams buried beneath the debris, where many toys still lie… as if waiting for the children who will never return.

During the final ten nights of Ramadan, when cities usually embrace a spiritual calm and mosques glow with worshippers, Gaza stands in a different scene: a long cold night, destroyed homes, and families trying to plant a small seed of hope in their children’s hearts despite hunger, exhaustion, and fear. Here, the rituals of joy are no longer what they once were—they have faded beneath the weight of pain.

Yet something small remains in the hearts of Gaza’s people, like a distant light: a belief that one day Eid will return as it once was, that laughter will fill the streets again, and that children will run in their new clothes through the alleys that know their names. Until that day arrives, Eid here remains a story of sorrow—between the ruins of homes and innocent dreams still buried beneath the rubble.