GAZA, (PIC)
On the mornings of Eid al-Fitr, children in Gaza once eagerly knocked on relatives’ doors, their eyes sparkling with anticipation, waiting for the “Eidiyah”, the traditional gift of money without which the holiday felt incomplete.
But today, this familiar scene, woven into collective memory for decades, looks strikingly different. War and a liquidity crisis have reshaped daily life, altering even the simplest expressions of joy.
A symbolic shift from cash to substitutes
In many households, Eidiyah is no longer crisp banknotes. Instead, it has become symbolic alternatives that reflect the harsh economic reality: a piece of chocolate, a small bag of sweets, or a modest plastic toy. Families cling to these gestures to preserve at least a fragment of the holiday ritual.
Mothers and fathers recall how they once set aside small sums for their children, but now even that has become difficult.
Eid of yesterday … when details created joy
Elders remember with longing: the sound of takbeer at night, dawn prayers, and visits from house to house. “We didn’t have much, but the happiness was immense,” says 68 year old Ahmad Abu Mahadi.
For children back then, even a few coins meant everything. Women baked cookies days in advance, neighbors gathered, and Eid was lived as a collective spirit, not just a date on the calendar, he remarked.
Eid of today … fragmented rituals, harsh reality
Now, families struggle to recreate the atmosphere. “We try to make it feel like Eid, but everything is different, no money, no energy,” says Samer Thabet, 45. Visits have dwindled, as people are consumed with securing life’s essentials.
Parents confess they cannot always answer their children’s questions about new clothes or Eidiyah. They improvise with small gestures, but the gap is obvious.
Children … incomplete memories
Ten year old Sami says, “My father told me how Eid used to be, with games and toys. I wish I could live a day like that.”
Seven year old Reem adds, “I just want Eid to have sweets and playtime, it doesn’t matter if there’s money.”
Their words reveal a generational divide: one that lived Eid in full, and another that knows it only through stories.
Nostalgia … a shared space across generations
“Young people like us are stuck between two worlds,” says 27 year old Khaled. “We remember the beautiful Eid, but live a completely different one. Nostalgia itself has become part of the holiday.” Even attempts at joy feel incomplete, as if something essential is missing.
Resisting forgetfulness … preserving possible joy
Despite everything, some families insist Eid has not vanished. “Yes, much has changed, but we try to keep the smallest details alive, even a piece of candy, as long as the children smile,” says Um Ahmad, 50.
In Gaza today, Eid is measured not by what it once was, but by what can still be salvaged. Between crowded memories and a harsh present, people continue searching for meaning in joy, even if it is simple.