What was once an ordinary water basin in northern Gaza has turned into a looming hazard for thousands of residents, its foul, rising waters creeping closer to homes that have already been weakened by months of devastation. Each rainfall pushes the level higher, mixing sewage with stormwater and swallowing nearby streets, leaving families on edge as they attempt to navigate a neighbourhood that now teeters on the brink of environmental collapse.

The pond, heavily damaged during the genocidal war, can no longer perform the basic function it was designed for. With drainage networks shattered and pumping stations barely operational, polluted water accumulates with alarming speed. Families who fled bombardment now find themselves living only metres from the swelling basin, forced to pitch their tents on unstable ground because there is nowhere else left to go. Many say the stench, insects and rising damp have turned everyday routines into an exhausting struggle, while the risk of water spilling into their homes grows with every cloud overhead.

Local engineers warn that the structure surrounding the pond has been compromised by repeated strikes, leaving cracks in walls that once held back significant volumes of waste and rainwater. Only a fraction of the original pumping system remains functional, and with most operational vehicles destroyed, municipal workers are left with limited means to prevent further deterioration. The fear shared among residents is that any major storm could cause a sudden overflow, sending contaminated water rushing through streets, tents and the ruins of already fragile houses.

For families living within sight of the pond, life has become a daily calculation of risk. Parents keep children indoors, windows stay closed despite the heat, and people walk cautiously around the area as moisture spreads through their walls. Several households report health problems, including respiratory issues and skin irritations linked to exposure to stagnant water and sewage-borne insects. Many describe a constant, grinding anxiety as they watch the waterline inch closer, knowing they lack the equipment, resources or safe shelter needed to escape should flooding occur.

The danger is not merely physical. For residents who have lived through repeated displacement and loss, the slow rise of polluted water feels like yet another blow in a place where survival has already stretched the limits of human endurance. With infrastructure crippled and humanitarian access severely limited, they fear that a preventable disaster may be allowed to unfold in full view of the world, one rainfall at a time.