May 23, 2026
Marwa Rommaneh
In the early morning
hours, when schools are supposed to prepare to welcome students, the yards are
filled with men sleeping on the ground. Movement begins before sunrise, and
lines gradually form outside sanitation facilities. Gaza’s schools are no longer
places of education, but have been transformed into displacement shelters,
hosting hundreds of families within a single shared space.
In the first week of the war on Gaza in October 2023, the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) reported that around 218,600 displaced people were sheltering in 92 of its schools across the Gaza Strip, while many others sought refuge in government schools and other buildings. Over time, these numbers grew, and overcrowding became an entrenched daily reality.
In these environments, it does not take long to realize that something fundamental has disappeared: privacy is no longer part of life.
A continuous collective scene
Everything that once took place behind the walls of a home is now exposed. Cooking, washing, resting, and daily routines all unfold in a single shared space, in front of everyone. There are no rooms, no closed doors, and no corners that offer even a moment of solitude. Life here is not lived separately, but in constant overlap, where the details of each family become part of a continuous collective scene.
This overlap is not only about limited space — it is also about the loss of the ability to be alone, even briefly. Silence becomes rare, and rest is practised cautiously, as if it were temporary in a place that does not allow stability.
During my involvement in polio vaccination campaigns in Gaza, where I worked in data entry and field support, the experience was not limited to its administrative dimension. It was a daily confrontation with this reality. Reaching children required navigating overcrowded spaces and working in environments that offered neither comfort nor privacy. There was no designated space for interaction or care; every step took place within a crowded setting where movement constantly intersected with daily life.
Over time, the loss of privacy is no longer a minor detail; it becomes part of the lived experience itself. Life is exposed, shared, and constantly visible, where nothing remains “private” as it once was understood.
The difficulty of daily life
The World Health Organization (WHO) and UNICEF have highlighted the growing health challenges facing children in Gaza, particularly the difficulty of delivering healthcare services and conducting vaccination campaigns in overcrowded and resource-limited settings.
In this context, overcrowding becomes more than a description; it becomes a condition that governs everything: movement, communication, and even the delivery of care. Every small detail is shaped by the lack of space and the density of people, making even the simplest tasks more complex.
Children live this reality every day, often without fully understanding or adapting to it. There is no space for normal play, and no environment that provides a sense of safety or comfort. For children with disabilities, the challenges are even greater, as they live in conditions that do not meet their basic needs.
Estimates by Save the Children indicate that during 2024, around 475 children each month in Gaza sustained injuries that could result in lifelong disabilities, including limb loss, hearing impairment, and severe eye injuries. In overcrowded environments, such realities further intensify the difficulty of daily life, where even the most basic conditions for safety and privacy are absent.
After the war: A reality that has not changed
Despite the notion of “after the war,” very little appears to have changed inside displacement shelters. Overcrowding persists, space remains limited, and daily life continues with the same routines that leave no room for personal space. There is no real return to homes, nor alternatives that provide even minimal comfort, only a continuation of the same conditions that have become normalized despite their harshness.
In this reality, “after the war” does not emerge as a new phase, but as an extension of what came before. The same queues, the same shared spaces, and the same sense that life is constantly lived in full view of others. It is as if time stopped at the moment of displacement, without offering people a real chance to regain any part of their previous lives.
This continuity does not only mean that conditions remain unchanged, but it also means they become deeply rooted. Over time, the loss of privacy is no longer temporary, but a long-term condition that reshapes how people relate to space and to themselves.
What do we lose when privacy disappears?
Displacement is not only the loss of a home, but the loss of an entire way of life, the loss of a space that once protected daily details and gave individuals the simple sense that part of their lives belonged only to them
In displacement shelters, people are not just living in temporary places, but in a new reality shaped by constant overcrowding. Over time, the loss of privacy ceases to be temporary and becomes part of everyday life, a reality that reshapes the relationship between people, space, and life itself.
Here, it is not only walls that disappear, but also the boundaries that once gave life its simplest meaning: the ability for a person to have a space of their own, even if it is nothing more than a small corner where no one is watching.
Marwa Rommaneh
In Gaza's
displacement shelters, privacy is not suspended; it is erased
In the first week of the war on Gaza in October 2023, the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) reported that around 218,600 displaced people were sheltering in 92 of its schools across the Gaza Strip, while many others sought refuge in government schools and other buildings. Over time, these numbers grew, and overcrowding became an entrenched daily reality.
In these environments, it does not take long to realize that something fundamental has disappeared: privacy is no longer part of life.
A continuous collective scene
Everything that once took place behind the walls of a home is now exposed. Cooking, washing, resting, and daily routines all unfold in a single shared space, in front of everyone. There are no rooms, no closed doors, and no corners that offer even a moment of solitude. Life here is not lived separately, but in constant overlap, where the details of each family become part of a continuous collective scene.
This overlap is not only about limited space — it is also about the loss of the ability to be alone, even briefly. Silence becomes rare, and rest is practised cautiously, as if it were temporary in a place that does not allow stability.
During my involvement in polio vaccination campaigns in Gaza, where I worked in data entry and field support, the experience was not limited to its administrative dimension. It was a daily confrontation with this reality. Reaching children required navigating overcrowded spaces and working in environments that offered neither comfort nor privacy. There was no designated space for interaction or care; every step took place within a crowded setting where movement constantly intersected with daily life.
Over time, the loss of privacy is no longer a minor detail; it becomes part of the lived experience itself. Life is exposed, shared, and constantly visible, where nothing remains “private” as it once was understood.
The difficulty of daily life
The World Health Organization (WHO) and UNICEF have highlighted the growing health challenges facing children in Gaza, particularly the difficulty of delivering healthcare services and conducting vaccination campaigns in overcrowded and resource-limited settings.
In this context, overcrowding becomes more than a description; it becomes a condition that governs everything: movement, communication, and even the delivery of care. Every small detail is shaped by the lack of space and the density of people, making even the simplest tasks more complex.
Children live this reality every day, often without fully understanding or adapting to it. There is no space for normal play, and no environment that provides a sense of safety or comfort. For children with disabilities, the challenges are even greater, as they live in conditions that do not meet their basic needs.
Estimates by Save the Children indicate that during 2024, around 475 children each month in Gaza sustained injuries that could result in lifelong disabilities, including limb loss, hearing impairment, and severe eye injuries. In overcrowded environments, such realities further intensify the difficulty of daily life, where even the most basic conditions for safety and privacy are absent.
After the war: A reality that has not changed
Despite the notion of “after the war,” very little appears to have changed inside displacement shelters. Overcrowding persists, space remains limited, and daily life continues with the same routines that leave no room for personal space. There is no real return to homes, nor alternatives that provide even minimal comfort, only a continuation of the same conditions that have become normalized despite their harshness.
In this reality, “after the war” does not emerge as a new phase, but as an extension of what came before. The same queues, the same shared spaces, and the same sense that life is constantly lived in full view of others. It is as if time stopped at the moment of displacement, without offering people a real chance to regain any part of their previous lives.
This continuity does not only mean that conditions remain unchanged, but it also means they become deeply rooted. Over time, the loss of privacy is no longer temporary, but a long-term condition that reshapes how people relate to space and to themselves.
What do we lose when privacy disappears?
Displacement is not only the loss of a home, but the loss of an entire way of life, the loss of a space that once protected daily details and gave individuals the simple sense that part of their lives belonged only to them
In displacement shelters, people are not just living in temporary places, but in a new reality shaped by constant overcrowding. Over time, the loss of privacy ceases to be temporary and becomes part of everyday life, a reality that reshapes the relationship between people, space, and life itself.
Here, it is not only walls that disappear, but also the boundaries that once gave life its simplest meaning: the ability for a person to have a space of their own, even if it is nothing more than a small corner where no one is watching.
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