TEHRAN – Ramadan has arrived in Gaza as the devastation from Israeli attacks remains overwhelming.

Despite the destruction, Palestinians are determined to observe the holy month.

After almost 16 months of relentless bombardment, much of Gaza lies in ruins. Families that once gathered around dinner tables now break their fast on the cold ground, surrounded by the wreckage of their homes.

In the shattered Jabaliya refugee camp, simple meals of lentils and bread are cooked over makeshift fires.

Entire neighborhoods have been reduced to rubble, hospitals are barely functioning with dwindling supplies, and essential infrastructure has collapsed.

The United Nations reports that almost the entire population of Gaza has been forcibly displaced. Many now live in overcrowded shelters, tents, or temporary homes built from salvaged debris.

Yet, amid these hardships, the spirit of Ramadan endures. Families gather for iftar (breaking the fast), children find moments to play among the ruins, and the faithful continue to pray, even in mosques that have been destroyed.

In Gaza City, men lay prayer rugs on cracked pavement, reciting verses from the Quran as dust and smoke fill the air.

“We have lost so much,” says Ahmed, a father of four whose home was destroyed in an airstrike. “But our faith and resilience can never be taken from us.”

Adding to their struggles, Gaza is now dealing with severe flooding. Heavy rains have turned tent cities into muddy swamps, with drainage systems too damaged to handle the water.

In some areas, people wade through waist-deep floods, trying to salvage what little they have left.

Sixty-seven-year-old Mahmoud Abu Sitta, who lost his home in the bombings, now sleeps in a tent slowly filling with rainwater.

“First the bombs, now the floods,” he says. “It feels like the suffering never ends.”

Yet, even in these dire conditions, the people of Gaza hold onto their traditions.

The communal spirit of Ramadan remains strong. Those who have little still share with their neighbors. Volunteers distribute food and supplies despite struggling themselves.

In a small bakery that remarkably survived the airstrikes, young men work tirelessly, baking flatbreads to feed families with nothing left.

“This is what Ramadan teaches us,” says Youssef, one of the bakers. “To give, to care for one another, even when we are suffering.”

Evening prayers, once held in grand mosques, now take place in makeshift spaces, inside tents, on street corners, or in the shadows of collapsed buildings.

Each prayer is a plea for relief, justice, and an end to the suffering that has defined life in Gaza for too long.

Humanitarian aid remains slow to arrive, border crossings are tightly controlled by the Israeli occupation regime, and political negotiations offer little certainty.

A fragile ceasefire has brought temporary calm, but on Sunday, Israeli authorities halted humanitarian aid shipments, pressuring Hamas to agree to the regime’s conditions for extending the truce.

Hamas has urged mediators to ensure the occupation regime abides by the ceasefire agreement, which includes negotiations for a second phase that would see Israeli forces withdraw from Gaza.

Despite everything, Gaza’s people persist. They fast, they pray, and they hope. They rebuild their lives, even when the world seems to have abandoned them.

As the call to prayer echoes over the devastated land, it carries the unwavering resilience of a people who refuse to be broken, even as everything around them has crumbled.