Shati Refugee Camp, Gaza – Inside a stifling tent in Shati, one of Gaza’s most congested displacement areas, 30-year-old Raneem Abu Al-Eish attends to her sisters, Aseel, 51, and Afaf, 33.
The sisters sit close to Raneem, sometimes laughing, though they often grow restless when the sounds of children at play pierce through the thin walls.
Aseel and Afaf face significant challenges due to celiac disease and intellectual disabilities that affect their speech and understanding, conditions exacerbated by the ongoing war and displacement. Raneem notes that they frequently struggle to articulate their feelings, sometimes showing symptoms resembling Tourette syndrome.
‘Their Struggles Are Often Laughed At’
In their cramped tent, which accommodates seven family members—Raneem, her sisters, their elderly parents, and another sister with her husband—privacy is scarce. Raneem’s mother struggles with frailty, while her father is recuperating from injuries inflicted during Israel’s relentless assaults on Gaza, placing the burden of care squarely on Raneem’s shoulders.
Previously residing in Block 2 of Jabalia camp, their home was destroyed eight months ago, forcing them into a cycle of temporary shelters and overcrowded United Nations schools. Now, in a tent that traps the scorching heat by day and allows the night’s chill to seep through, maintaining dignity becomes a daunting task. “When they need to change, we try to ask others to leave, but that’s not always feasible,” Raneem shares.
Sadly, their plight is further compounded by bullying stemming from their disabilities. “Most people don’t grasp my sisters’ struggles,” Raneem says quietly. “They judge based on appearances, not realizing how much care, understanding, and respect they require.”
Aseel finds it particularly difficult to manage the overwhelming noise and chaos surrounding them. “The noise and sudden alterations send her into distress—she shouts, cries, and occasionally lashes out,” Raneem explains. Meanwhile, Afaf copes with involuntary movements, with minor conflicts or loud noises triggering her episodes. “She lacks the ability to regulate it,” Raneem laments, added to the unfortunate reality that Afaf is subjected to mockery, especially from children.
The use of communal bathrooms compounds the humiliation. “Each visit becomes an event. People laugh and make harsh comments, which shatters their spirits,” Raneem says.
The Loss of Their Protector
The family experienced a devastating blow six months ago when Raneem’s 22-year-old brother, Mohammad, was taken by Israeli forces. He had gone to Kamal Adwan Hospital for surgery following a hand injury and was seized during a raid on October 25. Their distress deepens as they are left in the dark regarding his fate.
Mohammad was the family’s primary caregiver, adept at managing their medical needs and liaising with aid organizations. “Without him, we feel abandoned,” Raneem describes. Since his capture, the sisters face dire shortages of food and medical support. “He was our guardian,” she confides, her voice choked with emotion. “Now we have no one.”
Between March and May 2025, intensified bombing displaced an additional 436,000 Palestinians, many for the multiple times following the escalation of conflict in October 2023. For families like Raneem’s, already in precarious living conditions, each new wave of violence requires yet another restart, often devoid of food or necessary medical care.
For Aseel and Afaf, even the simplest aspects of nutrition pose a threat. Individuals with celiac disease cannot consume gluten, which wreaks havoc on their intestines. In a besieged Gaza, where food options are drastically limited and predominantly consist of wheat-based products, securing safe food for the sisters becomes nearly impossible, especially with Mohammad detained.
Without gluten-free alternatives, they risk severe malnutrition. The scant amounts of gluten-free flour delivered from aid organizations remain inadequate due to border closures and damaged infrastructure. “What little we receive is either out of reach financially or delayed in getting to us,” Raneem states.
A Plea for Understanding
Prior to the conflict, Aseel and Afaf received necessary medical care at Kamal Adwan Hospital. Their conditions called for specialized diets, medications, and regular therapies, none of which are now accessible.
Psychologist Dr. Sara al-Wahidi highlights the increased marginalization of individuals with disabilities amidst the ongoing war. “We’ve noticed individuals with disabilities being separated from their families in the displacement process—many are reported missing and tragically later discovered deceased,” she explains.
According to a 2025 report, approximately 15% of Gaza’s displaced population lives with disabilities, struggling to navigate makeshift shelters that lack appropriate accessibility features. Raneem also contends with social stigma; despite her attempts to rally support from neighbors and the community, ignorance remains prevalent.
“People provoke and ridicule them. All that we seek is compassion,” she says. Occasionally, community elders invite the sisters for short visits, offering brief moments of relief in a daily life devoid of consistent medical or social support.
“We’ve been displaced repeatedly—from Jabalia to the west, then to Gaza City,” Raneem reflects. “Every new location demands a restart: explaining their needs, pleading for patience.”
“These are not merely victims of war,” she emphasizes. “They are vulnerable individuals overlooked by society.”