‘I'm 28, but I look 40’: How war has changed the faces of Gaza

After three years of war in Gaza, Mustafa Musa struggles to recognise the person he sees in the mirror.

“I am 28 years old, but when I look in the mirror, I think I look 40,” he told The National. “The war has changed everything about us, but what it has changed most is our appearance, our facial features, and every detail of who we were before the war.”

Mr Musa weighed 90kg before the war; he now weighs 73kg. Then, he rarely worried about the burdens of daily life, but that changed when his family home was destroyed in the fighting between Israel and Hamas.

Displaced with his family and living in tents in Deir Al Balah, Mr Musa became responsible for securing the essentials they needed to survive. His days now include searching for food and collecting water. The constant exposure to the sun has darkened his face and hands.

“My features have aged considerably,” Mr Musa said. “Now, whenever someone sees me, they ask, ‘What happened to you?’”

The pressure and responsibilities of life during the war have also affected how often he can take care of his appearance.

“I used to shave every week,” he said. “Now, I shave only once every three weeks, or even once a month.”

The changes described by Mr Musa and other Gaza residents reflect a combination of prolonged psychological stress and physical hardship, repeated displacement, exposure to sun and smoke, scarcity of clean water, poor nutrition, and a lack of basic hygiene and personal-care products.

The situation has improved only slightly since a ceasefire went into effect in October last year, and Israel continues to carry out attacks almost daily.

For Afaf Hamada, 42, the changes are visible in her skin, hair and hands.

Before the war, people sometimes thought she was the sister of her two daughters, aged 21 and 19, Mrs Hamada said. They dressed similarly, attended weddings together, and shared a close relationship. She devoted considerable time to caring for her skin, hair and body.

“Then the war came and changed everything,” said Mrs Hamada, a married mother of five.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I say that my age is finally showing

Afaf Hamada

,
42

In displacement, washing machines and kitchen equipment were replaced by exhausting manual labour.

Mrs Hamada washes clothes and dishes by hand, kneads dough and lights fires for cooking. Her hands and feet have become cracked and painful, while the smoke and heat from open fires have burnt and darkened her face.

Her hair has also begun to thin, which she attributes to salty water and the lack of shampoo, conditioners and other products she once used.

“When I look at myself in the mirror, I say that my age is finally showing,” she told The National. Mrs Hamada now suffers from high blood pressure and takes medication.

Show caption: Mohammed Abu Sufian, 31, before and after the Gaza war. Phot…

Mohammed Abu Sufian, 31, also struggles to recognise the person he sees in the mirror.

Before the war, he said, life felt peaceful, comfortable and full of colour. Basic necessities were available, and that sense of stability showed in people’s faces and overall appearance.

“The war came and changed everything,” he told The National. “The most noticeable change has been in our appearance. We now look years older than we are.”

Although he is still a young man, Mr Abu Sufian has begun to notice grey hairs on his head, something he had never experienced before the war.

“However hard we try to return to our former selves, it is difficult under the current conditions, especially after everything we have endured, the suffering, the lack of food and the shortage of every basic necessity,” he said.

Young women

For young women, the transformation in appearance can carry a particular psychological burden, said Sireen Abu Harbeed, 24, who was displaced from Beit Hanoun and now lives in Gaza city.

Before the war, Ms Abu Harbeed went to the gym and had facials. She especially loved caring for and brushing her hair. After years without reliable access to soap, shampoo, fresh water or skincare products, she said her hair and face have changed dramatically.

“Now, sadly, seeing my hair only makes me feel distressed,” she said.

Several months ago, when she met three former university classmates in the street, one of them struggled to recognise her.

“Imagine someone who studied alongside you for an entire year needing time to recognise you because your face no longer looks as it did before,” she said.

Ms Harbeed says concern about her appearance is not vanity but tied to identity and memories of a life that has disappeared. The mirror reflects not simply changes to her hair or skin, but also years spent without privacy, security or control over the most ordinary parts of daily life.