Reflections from my Recent Visit to Gaza

Last week, over three days, I was able to visit Gaza to see Anera’s staff and humanitarian activities and bear witness to the continuing catastrophe there in this small, bombed out area. What I saw can only be described as a near-apocalyptic landscape. At the same time, Palestinians in Gaza are unbowed, their well-known resourcefulness on full-display. And, while they are likely exhausted from needing to be super-resilient and being lauded for it, any potential resignation seems overpowered by the energy and determination to recover and rebuild.

Below are some videos I made while there, along with a few photos and some reflections on what I saw.

Entering Gaza

We entered Gaza through the Karam Abu Salem (Kerem Shalom) crossing, one of Gaza’s few open lifelines for food and other necessities. This is one of several potential crossings where aid, which is often delayed or diverted for days or weeks, is offloaded from Jordanian, Egyptian or Israeli trucks and later uploaded to Palestinian trucks, finally making its way into Palestinian hands and the distribution networks of the UN or international organizations like Anera.

I watched as a Palestinian truck, freshly loaded up with much-needed diapers, began its journey into Gaza. It’s a rather simple scene, but it carries enormous weight. This is how aid moves in Gaza — shipments arrive from international donors and agencies, like the World Food Program and World Central Kitchen, and are transferred onto Palestinian trucks. From Karam Abu Salem, the long-awaited supplies can finally make their way to communities in need. The day I was there, I saw pallets of flour waiting for the green light to move — an unpredictable process.

That day, December 3, 24 trucks rolled in from Egypt via Kerem Shalom. Another 70 were en route from Jordan, Israel, and the West Bank, taking the new and still somewhat restricted route up the Israeli-controlled fence road toward the Kisufim crossing. Together, that’s 94 trucks of aid coming into Gaza in a single day. That sounds like a lot — and it is — but it’s still not nearly enough to meet the needs of a besieged population that relied on more than 400 trucks a day of goods before this war, and now suffers from acute scarcity, disease and malnutrition.

Inside Gaza

After unnecessary delays to enter, the route from the Karam Abu Salem (Kerem Shalom) crossing is tough. It’s now a wasteland – the old airport terminal bombed by Israel into what looks like the dried-out skeleton of a beached whale; and every other building in what is just the southeastern corner of Rafah is demolished. Several UN schools flattened by bombs look like trampled books with their blue spines broken and their white pages torn out.

On the roadside, groups of young men, or shabab, gather. They weren’t part of any organized network or crime gang. They were young men and teenagers — kids, really — watching for incoming aid trucks, hoping for a chance to grab something from the cargo for themselves and their families, or maybe to resell or barter. It’s a reminder of the desperation here. These young men were most likely not thieves before the war but have become that now. They’re kids doing what they can to get by, navigating the only opportunity currently available to them, one shaped by scarcity and survival.

Every truck that makes it through the route to its final destination represents a victory over the obstacles of an absence of Israeli political will to allow more aid in, border controls, inspections, and dangers within Gaza There exists a constant question of whether the next shipment will be allowed in. Each delivery, rather than part of a constant and mundane flow, is a small miracle. This is the reality of aid work in Gaza now.

First stop: a psychosocial mental wellness activity

Our first visit is to one of Anera’s psychosocial support activity days conducted by professional facilitators/animators. Some 100 children and their family members and other camp residents were gathered for song and dance, fun and games. These psychosocial activities, of which Anera has now held nearly 500, are one of the few distractions from daily bombs and missiles, death and destruction. The smiles and laughter were wide and deep, and it felt like all present – kids and adults alike – were getting a much needed, large dose of joy injected into them, inoculating them at least temporarily from deplorable conditions and depravity.

Visiting one of Anera’s health clinics in Khan Younis

Our second visit was to Anera’s largest primary health clinic, located in Mawasi, Khan Younis, in the midst of the heaviest concentration of internally displaced persons and the most densely populated area now in Gaza. Built entirely from recycled materials, including scrap wood from aid pallets, the clinic is a testament to ingenuity and resourcefulness. It now offers eight specialties, from wound management and physical therapy to maternal and child health and nutrition, all operated by professional staff in an orderly, clean, and digitized environment. This clinic serves nearly a million displaced people.

Khan Younis: precarious living

As we moved through Khan Younis, we travelled through some of Gaza’s “yellow zones” — areas that are still accessible but have seen heavy bombardment and are not part of the one remaining (relatively) “safe zone” for internal evacuees. These areas have seen a lot of damage but have pockets that remain somewhat intact. It’s a stark contrast to the devastation of the “red zones” I had just passed through in Karam Abu Salam, Rafah and parts of Khan Younis. In those areas, hardly a single building stands untouched. Entire structures lie in ruins, reduced to heaps of concrete and twisted metal.

In yellow zones, it’s a somewhat different story. While signs of wide destruction are still visible, a portion of the infrastructure remains standing, if in need of repair. Buildings are scarred but not shattered. You can see homes and shops that are damaged but repairable and still being used — a little feeling of relative normalcy amid the calamity and devastation.

These color-coded designations aren’t just abstract labels. They dictate who can move where, where and by what routes aid can flow, and how people may attempt to piece their lives back together. Yellow zones like this one, while still dangerous, offer a little bit of hope. It’s here that families displaced from red zones seek temporary refuge, and where some building feels possible.

But the line between red and yellow is razor-thin. It only takes another missile strike or bomb drop to turn a yellow zone into a red one.

The Netzarim Corridor: Buffer Zone Wasteland

Our journey from southern Gaza to the north was perhaps the toughest part of the visit to stomach. As we approached the Netzarim Corridor — the buffer zone that Israel has established to divide north and south Gaza — it became clear we’re entering a starkly different reality: a complete hell-scape, pockmarked and rubble strewn as far as the eye could see. In what we could see of the approximately 56 square kilometers of the corridor (15% of the total land of Gaza), we saw only one building standing: the Turkish hospital. Reports in the media the day before we entered Gaza say that Israel is “building 19 bases and dozens of smaller outposts along the corridor.” We saw Israeli flags posted all along our route — the now barely recognizable Salah Ed-Din Road.

Driving super slowly, and through an expanse that was wider than expected, for more than 30 minutes we saw no families, no workers, no signs of daily life. The area is off-limits to all but those with specific coordination and clearance. It took us nearly four hours to secure the green light to move forward from Mawasi (Khan Younis) and to get further green lights along the way, and cross.

This corridor, like so many of Gaza’s boundaries, is more than a line on a map. It’s a reminder of how movement, something so fundamental to human life and livelihoods, is severely controlled and constrained by Israel (and somewhat by Egypt too).

Entering Gaza City

As we left the buffer zone and head into Gaza City, widespread devastation continued to unfold before us. This is not the Gaza I knew. Just two months ago, my colleague Sami passed through these same streets, and while the signs of war were already abundantly clear, the destruction wasn’t as overwhelming as he explained to me during our journey. I glimpsed tears in his eyes and in the eyes of our driver — both of them from Gaza with family still here.

Buildings that once housed families, shops, and schools are now twisted skeletons of concrete and rebar. Streets that were once filled with life are choked with rubble. Looking at the scale of loss, it’s hard to imagine the strength required to move forward.

Hygiene kit distributions in Gaza City

I was pleased to be able to visit several of our Gaza City distribution points. On the day I visited (December 4) we were focused on getting essential hygiene kits into the hands of women who have endured unimaginable hardship. Each kit contained shampoo, soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, towels, sanitary pads, and even shaving razors — all essential items for daily hygiene that are otherwise mostly unavailable in northern Gaza.

The kits are more than just a collection of basic items — they are a means of restoring dignity and health to thousands of women. On the day I visited, Anera distributed 4,000 of these kits. The pace is intense and helped by a collaborative team consisting of Anera, Fares Al-Arab, and the support of UAE Aid. None of what Anera does would be possible without the partners and donors who believe in Gaza’s people and their right to live with dignity and hope.

Our distribution center in Gaza City

I visited one of Anera’s distribution centers for our product donations in the north of Gaza. On the day I visited, it was stocked with mostly aid from the United Arab Emirates — part of a shipment of 2,600 pallets that had been coming in over the previous few days from Ashdod in through the north.

We’ve already distributed a great deal of aid from the UAE, including water, blankets, mattresses and folding cots. Most of what arrived on the day before I visited was clothing. When we (soon!) receive the rest of the shipment in our center, the team will put together packages of clothing to distribute to families in Gaza City.

I was actually able to carry back with me some warm, full-length winter coats on my return to the south for distribution there.

The tense atmosphere of Gaza City

There is an intense atmosphere of tension in the air in Gaza City. It hit us unexpectedly when we were stopped by Israeli soldiers hidden around a corner next to our route. The soldiers ordered us out of the car with our hands on our heads while they aimed their machine guns directly at us. An interrogation ensued. They wanted to know what we were doing, in what they considered a war zone.

We explained that our visit had been coordinated with the Israeli military. After some uncomfortable moments, they allowed us to leave. The kind of fear one feels when facing soldiers with guns pointed is hard to describe, but it’s something that, unfortunately, happens all too often to Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank as well.

Yet, even in moments of death and destruction, fear and uncertainty, what stood out to me is that Gaza is a place where life continues.

Our Anera staff

To see Anera’s staff in Gaza again, particularly my colleagues in the north (who I was unable to visit on my trip last December) was deeply inspiring. Despite the trauma they’ve endured, they remain focused and energized, delivering aid, running clinics, and finding ways to rebuild. Their optimism, dedication and ability to get things done are nothing short of heroic.

It’s important, though, that we not romanticize their resilience. No one should have to endure what the people of Gaza are living through. The international community must do more to open crossings, increase aid flows, address the root causes of this tragedy, and to build back better.

Here are some snaps of my visits with our remarkable staff:

Why Anera is in Gaza

At a crossroads in Gaza’s middle area, I stood flanked by two camps that now lie ruined — El Bureij to my right and Nusairat to my left. Both have endured the full force of destruction, their shattered remains telling a story of relentless attacks.

We waited for clearance to move through the Netzarim corridor, about two kilometers ahead. Beyond that lies the so-called “red zone” — an area fully controlled by Israel where entry is strictly prohibited.

I was heartened as I saw workers clearing rubble and loading debris into trucks, bit by bit, so they could then repair a water main line, to serve 15,000 residents. It’s a small but meaningful step toward restoring essential services. The United Nations and other agencies have warned that removing Gaza’s rubble could take decades. But as I watched the workers, I was struck by the speed and determination in their movements. It could go faster if they had more equipment and more resources. Reality, of course, is more complicated. It will probably take years, but maybe not decades.

The human toll is staggering. More than 45,000 dead, some 100,000 injured. About 805,000 people are in Gaza’s middle area, struggling to survive amid crumbled infrastructure and dwindling supplies. Khan Younis is now the most densely populated area in Gaza, hosting roughly 1.1 million people, including thousands of displaced families. Meanwhile, Gaza City — which once pulsed with life — now holds only an estimated 200,000 to 250,000 people, a fraction of its pre-war population. In the far south, Rafah is eerily empty; and in the far northern governorate, once dense large population centers in Beit Hanoun, Beit Lahia and Jabalia, surviving residents have been forced out almost entirely.

Amid it all, Anera is pressing forward. Our teams have delivered more than 46 million meals to those in need. Our shipments of medicines and medical supplies continue to cross into Gaza, despite the logistical and political hurdles. On December 3, I visited a primary health care center in Mawasi (as reported above), which has become a vital lifeline for hundreds of patients each day. I met mothers cradling their children in the nutrition clinic, watched patients being cared-for in the wound clinic, and saw physical therapy sessions in progress. Clinics for ear, nose, and throat issues are especially in demand, and the center has become a hub of hope in the midst of hardship.

What stands out most to me is the sheer scale of the human need in Gaza. The largest concentration of Gaza’s population is now in Khan Younis, and Anera’s health and food distributions are a critical thread in the fabric of survival. And, as I moved from site to site, I was reminded of the weight of these numbers — not as statistics, but as human lives.

There is much more to be done, but there is determination in the air and hopeful graffiti on the war-damaged walls — from the workers clearing rubble, to the health center staff treating patients, to the displaced families waiting for a future where they can rebuild. This is Gaza’s current reality. And this is why we are there and will stay there.