In Gaza, suffering is no longer measured solely by the number of destroyed homes or overcrowded tents. It has extended to the simplest details of daily life: to water, to space, to that small area where one can find solitude away from prying eyes and noise.
Inside the shelters, hundreds of displaced people sometimes share a single toilet, queuing together in long lines that include children and the elderly, men and women, amidst a severe water shortage and the near-total collapse of the sewage system.
There, privacy becomes a rare luxury, and relieving oneself becomes an additional burden on lives already exhausted by displacement, fear, and homelessness.
With the tents piled high and sewage and waste accumulating, health and environmental risks are escalating, while health workers warn of a widespread outbreak of skin and intestinal diseases within the camps.
But amid this harsh reality, simple attempts emerged to find possible solutions: primitive pits next to the tents, portable toilets made from tin sheets, wood and the remains of destroyed houses, and plastic chairs produced from recycled materials inside workshops that survived the war.
