War's Toll: Gaza Residents Age Decades Overnight, Faces Reflecting Trauma and Hardship

The enduring conflict in Gaza has left residents like Mustafa Musa, 28, struggling to recognize their own reflections. "I am 28 years old, but when I look in the mirror, I think I look 40," he shared with 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, who weighed 90kg before the conflict, now weighs 73kg. His former life of minimal worry was shattered when his family home was destroyed in the fighting between Israel and Hamas. Displaced and living in tents in Deir Al Balah, Mr. Musa now shoulders the responsibility of securing essential survival needs, including searching for food and collecting water. Constant sun exposure has darkened his face and hands, leading to comments like, "My features have aged considerably. Now, whenever someone sees me, they ask, ‘What happened to you?’" The immense pressure and daily burdens have also impacted his personal grooming habits. "I used to shave every week. Now, I shave only once every three weeks, or even once a month." These profound changes, echoed by many in Gaza, stem from a confluence of prolonged psychological stress, 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. While the situation has seen only slight improvements since the October ceasefire, Israeli attacks persist almost daily.

Afaf Hamada, 42, also bears the visible marks of war on her skin, hair, and hands. Previously, people often mistook her for the sister of her two daughters, aged 21 and 19. They shared a close bond, attended weddings together, and Mrs. Hamada dedicated significant time to her appearance. "Then the war came and changed everything," she stated. "When I look at myself in the mirror, I say that my age is finally showing." In displacement, the conveniences of washing machines and kitchen equipment have been replaced by arduous manual labor. Mrs. Hamada now washes clothes and dishes by hand, kneads dough, and prepares meals over open fires. Her hands and feet are cracked and painful, and the smoke and heat have scorched and darkened her face. Her hair has thinned, a change she attributes to salty water and the absence of shampoo, conditioners, and other products. "When I look at myself in the mirror, I say that my age is finally showing," she told The National. Mrs. Hamada now manages high blood pressure with medication.

Mohammed Abu Sufian, 31, also finds his reflection altered by the war. He described his pre-war life as peaceful, comfortable, and vibrant, with essential necessities readily available, a stability reflected in people's appearances. "The war came and changed everything," he reported. "The most noticeable change has been in our appearance. We now look years older than we are." Despite his youth, Mr. Abu Sufian has begun to notice grey hairs, a new development since the conflict began. "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 added.

For young women like Sireen Abu Harbeed, 24, the transformation in appearance carries a distinct psychological weight. Displaced from Beit Hanoun and now residing in Gaza city, Ms. Abu Harbeed previously enjoyed gym visits and facials, and cherished caring for her hair. Years without consistent access to soap, shampoo, fresh water, or skincare products have dramatically altered her hair and face. "Now, sadly, seeing my hair only makes me feel distressed," she admitted. Months ago, a chance encounter with three former university classmates left one struggling to recognize 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 recounted. Ms. Harbeed emphasizes that her concern is not vanity but is deeply tied to her identity and the memories of a lost life. The mirror reflects not just physical changes but also years of lost privacy, security, and control over the most basic aspects of daily existence.