Tulkarem, West Bank wey Israel dey occupy -

For many years, Ramadan dey bring joy and warm feeling for Noor Buleidi small house for Tulkarem refugee camp, wey dey for Israeli-occupied West Bank. But dis year, after Israeli soldiers demolish im house, dem talk say na to clear road for military vehicles, Buleidi don start dis holy month for displacement, without di traditions wey dey make Ramadan special for am before.

Buleidi na one of di nearly 40,000 Palestinians wey dem force comot from refugee camps for di occupied West Bank since Israel start military attack on January 21. Oxfam talk say na di biggest mass displacement wey don happen for di area since 1967.

Instead of di usual Ramadan joy wey dey come with preparing traditional food like Fatteh and Musakhan for iftar, Buleidi and thousands of other people wey dem displace from Tulkarem, Jenin, and Nur Shams camps, dey depend on food aid donations to survive.

“Ramadan dey always sweet, full of celebration,” Buleidi tell TRT World. “But dis year, e different. Na just fasting, nothing else. We no dey feel di spirit of di month.”

Di military attack for di occupied West Bank dey happen as part of di bigger violence wey Israeli soldiers and settlers dey carry out for di area, including East Jerusalem, since di war for Gaza start for October. Di Israeli military don increase their presence for northern West Bank, tanks and armoured vehicles dey waka for di streets, dey destroy di place.

Palestinian health officials talk say di attacks wey start since October 7 don kill at least 927 Palestinians, including 187 pikin. About 7,000 people don wound, and more than 14,500 don dey detained, many without any charge.

People wey dem displace dey find anywhere wey dem fit stay. Emergency shelters, overcrowded apartments, or di houses of relatives don turn to temporary homes for dem dis Ramadan.

“Dem no just destroy house. Dem scatter di memories of my life,” Buleidi talk, wey don dey displaced for 35 days. “House no be just bricks—na history, na life dey inside every corner. E dey full of joy before, especially for Ramadan. Now, for displacement, I no dey feel anything.”

Ahmed Mari, another person wey dem displace from Tulkarem camp, talk say di pain dey heavy. “We dey fast for God, but we no dey feel joy dis Ramadan,” he tell TRT World. “Dem force us comot from our houses, and we no even sabi wetin remain for di house.”

Now, he dey stay for borrowed house near di camp with im ten pikin. He dey miss di place wey dem force am leave. “Tulkarem camp na our life, our memories,” he talk. “If you give me choice to live for US or go back to di camp, I go choose di camp without thinking twice.”

He remember di Ramadan nights for di camp before, when di streets dey full of decorations, markets dey busy, and families dey gather. Now, he talk say, “everybody don scatter, dem don displace.”

Di pain no dey only for Tulkarem. Youssef Shreim, refugee from Jenin, dey look di ruins of im house from one hill. “E be like strange place now,” he talk. “Israeli bulldozers don change di area, dem dey carve roads and demolish houses. Even if we return, many families no go get where to stay.”

Shreim enter di camp few days ago and see di destruction. Im house don scatter, leaving am with only small things wey he fit carry. Ramadan for Jenin before dey full of shared meals and celebration. Now, di displaced people dey spend nights for shelters, no sure future dey for dem.

“I dey host iftar for my house before,” Shreim talk. “Dis year, we dey scattered. Imagine di pain to break fast far from your house, sabi say dem dey destroy am. Words no fit explain dat feeling.”

For Nur Shams refugee camp, Nihaya al-Jundi, another displaced person, talk say di emotional pain dey too much. “You no fit explain wetin displaced families dey go through—especially for iftar,” she talk, as tears dey roll from her eyes.

“Peace no dey possible far from my house, my things, and di life wey I sabi before,” she talk. “Dis wound no go ever heal, and I no go ever forgive.”

Before di military attack, Nur Shams dey busy with market wey people from everywhere dey come shop. For Ramadan, di camp dey shine with lights and activity. Now, darkness dey everywhere, di only sound na di rumble of military vehicles and gunshots.

“For di second day of di military operation, dem force us run comot,” she talk. “I carry only small clothes, just di important things. Many things we need no dey available. Apart from di displacement, people dey face money wahala.”

For many displaced families, even to cook food for iftar don turn wahala. “Women dey proud to cook for their families before. Now, dem dey wait for charity groups to bring rice, yogurt, maybe one piece of chicken,” she talk. “Na dat one be proper meal?”

Apart from hunger, na di loss of dignity dey pain dem pass. “Families wey get house and privacy before, now dey live for one single room for shelter or with relatives. Where di privacy? Where di humanity?”

For some shelters, women don separate from their husbands to maintain privacy for di overcrowded place. “Imagine to sleep far from your family, from your own pikin,” al-Jundi talk, as she remember di chaos of di displacement.

Di uncertainty of when dem go fit return, plus di way their daily life don scatter, don put dark cloud over di month wey dey bring comfort before. For al-Jundi and others, di loss no be only house—na di loss of their whole way of life. “Nur Shams na place of strength, of livelihood, of tradition,” she talk. “Now, e don turn to place of emptiness.”

Dis article dey published with di help of Egab.