When children from the Jenin refugee camp go to school, they inevitably leave behind more than just their backpacks. A thread in their stories has grown heavier in recent months, as the ground holds the lifeless shapes of friends and siblings tucked beneath damp soil. The new graves in the so‑called martyrs’ cemetery stand as silent reminders that empty holes await more students to fill them. The youths speak of their future in terms of fighters, or martyrs, a phrase repeated by Salwa Abughali of Médecins Sans Frontières, who notes the grim date of each death drawing closer. As the sky lightens with pink and white rain clouds, young people gather to talk with friends, yet their words fail to answer the questions that haunt them. They visit altars with flowers and soothing care, while Palestinian flags flutter at the gates of a closed school. They wonder if tomorrow will be their bed.
Ahmed Sadi has not slept in his bed for weeks. The danger is constant, a 12‑year‑old boy who looks like the rest of his family on the main street of the camp. The previous afternoon, Israeli troops stormed the alleys again, marking the tenth illegal attack of the year since October 7. They arrive every other day, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, as if the siege in a television soap opera. Ahmed’s father, Halit, speaks with tearful eyes about the repeated incursions that have upturned their home. Upstairs, the brother’s house was turned upside down, a plastic chair by the window serving as a grim lookout for a sniper’s vantage. This is what Ahmed points to when he describes the street as it stands now.
When soldiers arrive and stir things up, the family says they fear the authorities will use their teenagers as evidence. The boy who was once top of his class is now spoken of with pride, even as the family cries for him in silence. Five months ago, one of their four children, aged 18, was arrested with no clear reason given. The fear of losing more children drives the family to spend nights away from home, turning to the countryside as a fortified refuge. The Sadis describe the area as a main stronghold for Palestinian resistance. In the last two months, more than 270 people have been killed in the streets and homes of Jenin by Israeli forces. Each evening at seven, the Sadis relocate to a hillside home above the town to seek safety. Although it is not fully finished and electricity is scarce, they lay sheets on the floor and call it a shelter that offers a measure of calm amid chaos.
resistance stronghold
Historically, Jenin refugee camp has stood as a symbol of steadfast resistance in the occupied West Bank. Salwa Abughali from MSF’s mental health team notes that the community has long known violence as part of daily life, a burden carried since childhood. The Israeli army and Jenin’s fighters maintain vigilance, aware that civilians and militias alike pay a heavy price in every escalation. Data from the United Nations indicates that a substantial share of Palestinian deaths in recent clashes occurred during search and capture operations in areas near Jenin and beyond. Irene Huertas, an MSF coordinator in the city, explains that Jenin’s resistance grew as a response to ongoing attacks, a decision by residents to arm themselves to resist and protect their families, even at the cost of becoming targets themselves. Before October 7, Jenin had already seen some of the fiercest clashes since the Second Intifada, and 2023 brought new waves of destruction through unmanned aerial strikes against homes and mosques.
war situation
Despite a broad campaign of violence centered on Gaza, the climate in the West Bank remains one of continuous conflict. Israeli offensives around Jenin have not yielded the desired outcomes, and each new entry by troops often inspires more people to join the resistance. Khaled Sadi, overwhelmed with grief, reflects on the broader struggle and the perception of Palestinians on the world stage. He speaks of a land he loves, of a history that dates back to 1948, and of the living memory his family hopes to pass on. Abughali admits a painful truth: many youths now dream of becoming warriors or martyrs. It is an idea rooted in desperation and the need to protect what remains. The community watches as the losses mount, a cycle that deeply affects the entire village and its traditions.
Before reaching the martyrs’ cemetery, the remains of a collapsed domed structure sit near the paths. Names of those who sacrificed their lives for the countryside are etched at their feet, marking a moment in the long history of conflict that began in 2002 during the Israeli invasion and the Second Intifada. Debris and weathered portraits endure as symbols of Jenin’s resilience, as the larger campaign to terrorize and demoralize continues, according to observers. Yet rain, mud, and the cleared roads do not deter the younger generation from coming to pay respects to their dead and to speak to their heroes. The cotton‑candy clouds above seem to promise a future free from fear, even as the pain and pride of the present linger in the air.