“In what state have you returned, O Eid?” The people of Tulkarm and Jenin face a grim reality this Eid, as homes lie in ruins and loved ones are lost to violence. Displaced families wander through the wreckage, having escaped with little more than the clothes on their backs, while memories of past celebrations haunt them. The absence of joy is palpable as they grapple with the devastation that has engulfed their lives.

Ghada Mar’i, a displaced woman from Jenin, shares her sorrow as she searches for food in the markets of Qabatiya. “We lost everything. Our lives have turned upside down,” she laments, recounting the destruction of her six-story home and her son’s workshop. The loss of their livelihood has left her family relying on aid that barely meets their needs, a stark contrast to the dignity they once had in their own home.

Amidst the heartache, Umm Mahmoud Al-Sa’di expresses the profound void left by her sons, one a martyr and the others imprisoned. “There’s no joy in Eid,” she states, her voice filled with pain. Forced to flee under gunfire, she longs for the memories of her home and the keepsakes of her son, now out of reach due to military presence. The trauma of displacement weighs heavily on her and countless others in the camp.

In Nur Shams, families face a new Nakba as they are uprooted from their homes. Amjad Jabali describes the catastrophic situation as residents are driven out under threat of violence. “We have lost everything,” he says, reflecting on the struggle to provide for his children while living in uncertainty. For many in Jenin, Tulkarm, and Nur Shams, this Eid is a painful reminder of their losses—a wound that deepens with each passing day of exile, overshadowing the essence of celebration.