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| Abdel Mahdi al-Wuheidi, a survivor of the 1948 Nakba and Israel's genocidal war on Gaza [Abdelhakim Abu Riash/Al Jazeera] |
By Maram HumaidPublished On 16 May 202616 May 2026
Jabalia, Gaza –
Inside his partially destroyed home in the Jabalia refugee camp in
northern Gaza, 85-year-old Abdel Mahdi al-Wuheidi sits beside a small
fire brewing coffee, staring at what remains of a life, now surrounded
by rubble.
Next to him sits his wife, Aziza, also in her 80s, whom
he married six decades ago. Despite years of trying, the couple was
never able to have children.
Today, they live together with the five sons of Abdel Mahdi’s late
brother. They were children when their father died, and Abdel Mahdi
raised them and helped them to marry and start families of their own.
Born
in 1940, Abdel Mahdi was only a child when the 1948 Nakba – the mass
expulsion of 750,000 Palestinians from their home at the founding of the
state of Israel – unfolded. And yet, despite living through that pain
and trauma, he says that what Palestinians are enduring today, brought
on by Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza, surpasses anything he has ever
witnessed.
“We are from Bir al-Saba [Beersheba] … that was our
homeland,” he says in a tired voice. Bir al-Saba is the largest city in
the Naqab Desert. It was captured by Israeli forces in 1948, forcing
much of its Palestinian population out.
The original Nakba
Abdel Mahdi’s
sharp memory carries him back to his childhood, living with his parents
on their land, among their livestock and property – a normal life,
before everything changed.
Abdel Mahdi says he still remembers the
heated discussions among families in Bir al-Saba when news first spread
that Zionist Haganah militias were approaching, with some wanting to
flee, and others insisting on staying.
The decision was eventually made to leave for Gaza, to the west, with the hope of returning in a few weeks.
And
so Abdel Mahdi, along with his parents, three siblings, and the rest of
his extended family, left, carrying whatever livestock, money and
supplies they could manage.
“We all left … We walked for days. We
would rest, then continue walking,” he says. “We carried some of our
belongings with us. We never imagined it would become a permanent
exile.”
The family initially settled in Gaza City’s Zeitoun neighbourhood
before later moving to Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza, where the
harsh realities of refugee life began.
“We lived in tents. The
rain and wind would flood them, the cold was unbearable, then came the
scorching heat,” he says. “There was hunger, exhaustion, long lines for
food and water, shared toilets, lice, poor sanitation … painful
memories.”
Right of return
“I remember my father
and grandfather always saying we would return, and they told their
children and grandchildren to hold on to the right of return,” Abdel
Mahdi says.
But the return never came. Instead, decades of exile, wars and repeated attempts to rebuild life followed.
Abdel
Mahdi worked for years inside Israel in construction, during a period
when Palestinian labourers were granted work permits.
Together with his brothers, he managed to build homes and buy land, only for the current war to erase everything once again.
“We
worked, built homes and bought land,” he says. “We thought we were
finally compensating for something after the displacement that destroyed
our families and lives. We thought it was over.”
“But this war
destroyed everything completely,” he adds. “At the end of our lives, it
brought us all back to zero. Nothing is left – no stone, no trees.”
Abdel
Mahdi acknowledges that life in Gaza was never truly stable – with
several Israeli wars and a years-long blockade – but he says the scale
of destruction during the latest war is unprecedented.
“A Nakba at
the beginning of my life … and another Nakba at the end of it. What can
we even say?” he murmurs while staring at the devastation surrounding
him.
The war on Gaza
Abdel Mahdi recounts how his life was turned upside down during the latest Israeli war on Gaza, beginning in October 2023.
This
time, he was forced to flee his home as an elderly man, struggling to
walk alongside his ageing wife and the families of his nephews.
He
was displaced multiple times – once to the Gaza seaport area in western
Gaza City, another time to Deir el-Balah in central Gaza.
Before that, he had sought shelter in a United Nations-run school in Jabalia before Israeli forces stormed it.
He
recalls the terrifying moments when Israeli tanks and soldiers entered
the school during the early months of the war, as chaos, gunfire and
screams erupted while loudspeakers ordered everyone to evacuate
southwards.
“They forced us out of the school,” he says. “My
elderly wife and I leaned on each other to walk. Some people couldn’t
get out and were killed there.”
“We walked long distances until we
reached western Gaza, together with what remained of our family, who
had scattered in different places,” he adds.
“We were collapsing from exhaustion, but the shelling and fear forced us to keep moving.”
Abdel
Mahdi says that he considered staying in his home and refusing to
leave, unwilling to repeat what he called “the mistake of our ancestors”
when they fled in 1948. But he says the danger eventually forced him to
flee.
For the elderly man, displacement itself became one of the cruellest parts of the war.
“When
a person leaves his home, he loses his dignity and worth,” he says
quietly. “We lived in tents, in the sand, exposed to everything… We
lived through famine and shortages of absolutely everything.”
“I
wished for death with all my heart,” the octogenarian admits, his eyes
filling with tears. “All I wanted was a concrete wall to lean my
exhausted back against, but there was nothing. It was unbearable for
both the young and the old.”
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