East Eighteen: Coping With War in Gaza
Olga Stefatou
Children are too often the victims of war.
The 7 October 2023 Hamas attack on Israel killed 1,200 people (including 761 civilians) and saw 250 hostages taken to Gaza. Fifty of those civilian deaths were children, and 30 children were taken hostage.
Although crimes against humanity, war crimes, and genocide are not quantitatively defined, the casualty data from the subsequent war on Gaza is shocking. The former Israeli army commander, Herzi Halevi—the IDF chief of staff for the first 17 months of war—has confirmed that more than 200,000 Palestinians (over 10% of Gaza’s population) have been killed or injured. Moreover, “figures from a classified Israeli military intelligence database indicate five out of six Palestinians killed by Israeli forces in Gaza have been civilians, an extreme rate of slaughter rarely matched in recent decades of warfare.” Among the civilian casualties, it is estimated that 20,000 children have been killed and a further 40,000 injured.
Few Gazans were able to escape the killing zone. However, around 100,000 Palestinian refugees crossed into Egypt, where they reside in legal limbo and social uncertainty.
“East Eighteen” is a portrait of a young Palestinian survivor, Yousef, who has lived through immense violence and now faces the complex challenge of rediscovering life in Egypt. In a collaboration with Olga Stefatou, Yousef uses photography to explore his own identity and voice as he leaves adolescence behind and steps into adulthood. Through this work, he attempts to make sense of his past and present, using creativity to process grief, preserve memory, reattach to life, and imagine a future. This is his story.
Yousef, an 18-year-old Palestinian, struggles mentally between two worlds: the recent memories and agonies of his homeland, Gaza, and the challenges of starting a new life in the suburbs of Cairo.
He turned 18 just days before escaping Gaza with his family in February 2024, carrying with him only one wish: a ceasefire. Now, he lives in a small apartment near his university in Giza Governorate, while his family and close relatives stay together in an apartment in Cairo. For the first time, Yousef is away from his family on a daily basis, trying to adjust to a new home he doesn’t yet feel connected to.
In Gaza, Yousef’s home was bombed. His grandparents’ home was bombed. The house where he had taken refuge in Rafah was bombed. His sports center, his favorite seaside hangout, and his favorite café were all destroyed.
This is my house, where I was born and where I have my best memories. I used to see the sea from here, but now Israel has bombed it. I need to return and rebuild my home.
This is my grandparents’ home, bombed by Israel. My grandmother was inside the house, when it was hit.
I used to love this club, it was my favorite. They had so many different sports to enjoy.
This was one of the best places in Gaza, but now it has been bombed by Israel. It had a café and a restaurant, and you could also enjoy the beach and go for a swim.
This is the house we moved to in Rafah, but now it has been bombed by Israel. I lived here for five months.
Now in Egypt, Yousef carries many layers of stress: academic pressure, difficulty with Egyptian Arabic, racism, financial insecurity, and a profound sense of displacement. Egypt is the only place he has ever been outside Gaza, and it is where he has received the most painful news of his life.
A few weeks after arriving in Egypt, Yousef lost his best friend, Ali. He first learned of Ali’s death through the media. “I cry for my friend when I am alone,” he says. He speaks daily—when the connection allows—with his friends who remain in Gaza. He carries guilt for being safe in Egypt and says he would prefer to return, despite knowing the risks. He talks constantly about Gaza and scrolls through social media, watching videos of death and destruction in his homeland.
I first met Yousef in 2020, when he was 14, during an online photography workshop for teenagers in Gaza, run by Education Above All, a foundation in Qatar. Back then, Yousef discovered a passion for photography, and some of the images he created are now part of the collages in this series. We stayed in contact throughout the crisis, and I held a quiet hope that we might one day meet in person. That moment finally came when he arrived safely in Cairo.
Creating together and finding a way to share his story has helped me better understand the emotional landscape and mental state of a teenager navigating trauma and grief. It also raised a haunting and urgent question: how will teenagers like Yousef, who have witnessed and survived tremendous violence, find the strength and mental clarity to rebuild their lives and imagine a future?
A friend of mine, Dimitra Christodoulou, gifted him a DSLR camera, which he now uses to document his life in Egypt. The series combines moments from his home, neighborhood, and the city with images, writings, and collages by Yousef. The collaborative process felt like a continuation of the original workshop and, hopefully, offered Yousef a small measure of healing and encouragement through creative expression and compassion.
Olga Stefatou is a visual artist, photography mentor, and consultant based in Athens, Greece.
Thanks Olga. Very powerful essay. The photographic collages with Arabic hand writing add to the story the photos show. They also make the voices of children heard. The image of Roy, dead and yet alive, is particularly compelling. I wish someone would do a similar reportage about animals, and then about plants, especially the olive trees, and the sand and soil. They all have stories to tell. Your essay reminds me of John Berger’s writings on Palestine. Congratulations.
Subhash