Amid the rubble, Palestinians race to restore Gaza's heritage and memory

On a small hill in the al-Daraj neighbourhood, east of Gaza City, the skeletal remains of Pasha's Palace lie along the rubble like a wounded memory.

Once a bustling centre of administration and culture, it is now in ruins, dust swirling around the fragments of centuries-old walls that crumbled due to Israel's genocidal war.

Palestinian workers move carefully through the debris, brandishing small brushes, wooden sticks, and determination. Each stone they lift, each piece of shattered pottery they recover, is a testament to survival, an act of resistance against a history under siege.

"Every stone here has a story. This palace is not just stones—it is the memory of an entire city. It holds centuries of our history, and that history was almost erased," Hamouda al-Dohdar, a Gaza-based cultural heritage expert supervising the painstaking restoration, told The New Arab.

Pasha's Palace dates back to the 13th century, built during the reign of Mamluk Sultan al-Zahir Baybars. Its elevated position overlooking Gaza City made it both an administrative and residential hub, later housing governors, soldiers, and military commanders.

Palestinian historians told TNA that Napoleon Bonaparte stayed at the palace during his Levant campaign in the late 18th century, cementing the palace's place not only in architecture but also in the region's political memory.

Before Israel's war, the palace functioned as an archaeological museum, displaying more than 17,000 artefacts spanning Roman, Byzantine, Islamic, and Ottoman periods. Tens of thousands of visitors, including students, researchers, and local tourists, roamed its halls every year.

But during the first months of Israel's genocidal war, the palace was reduced to rubble.

"Before the war, we had about 17,000 artefacts in the palace. But now we have found only 20 artefacts after the military operations ended. The rest were destroyed or looted. Rare pottery, swords, crowns, and coins were gone," al-Dohdar noted.

Gaza's Government Media Office reported that over 208 cultural and historical sites were damaged or destroyed between 2023 and 2025, including the Great Omari Mosque, Hammam al-Samra, and the Monastery of Saint Hilarion, one of the oldest Byzantine structures in the region.

Archaeologist Nariman Khalla, who has studied Gaza's heritage for many years, told TNA the attacks were deliberate. "This is not collateral damage," she said. "These sites carry the memory of Palestinians. Pasha's Palace is a rare cultural continuum. Its destruction is an attempt to erase who we are."

Guarding memory

Despite the widespread destruction in al-Daraj, residents have prioritised protecting the palace. Abu Mohammed al-Hattab, 63, told TNA he grieved more for the palace than for his own house.

"This place is our history […] We lost our homes, but we cannot lose our identity. We stayed after the army withdrew, guarding the palace from thieves. If even one piece is taken, a part of our soul is gone," he remarked.

Umm Osama Sheashaa, who has lived across the street since childhood, recalled nights spent by the gate during the first days after the withdrawal, keeping vigil alongside neighbours.

"My husband, brothers and our neighbours stayed awake to protect it. Losing a house is hard. Losing the palace would have been unbearable. Houses can be rebuilt. History cannot," she said.

The restoration team, mostly local workers with expertise from the Bethlehem Centre for Cultural Heritage Preservation, has recovered around 10,000 stones suitable for reconstruction.

Tariq Rajab, 42, who has worked on historic buildings for years, described the painstaking work.

"We move slowly, carefully, because every artefact could be irreplaceable. This is not just restoration, it is a form of resistance. The occupation wants to erase our history, and we are piecing it back together stone by stone," he said.

But the challenges are immense. Modern machinery is unavailable, slowing progress and increasing physical strain. Materials like cement and clay are scarce due to the blockade. Walls remain unstable, threatening to collapse at any moment.

"Every day we risk our lives […] Sometimes we have to stop work for days because it’s too dangerous. But we cannot abandon it," he said.

Psychological strain weighs on both the team and the community. Abu Mohammed al-Aqad describes the heavy burden of watching a lifetime of memories reduced to rubble.

"Restoring it is a fight with our hearts, our identity […] We work because giving up would mean losing a part of ourselves," he said.

"Even if the palace will never be exactly as it was, its spirit will remain. Our children will know it resisted, and we resisted with it," al-Aqad added.

Restoration amid wider destruction

The war's impact on Gaza's heritage extends far beyond Pasha's Palace.

The Great Omari Mosque, one of Gaza's oldest religious sites, suffered significant damage. Hammam al-Samra, a century-old public bath, now lies partially destroyed. Saint Hilarion's Monastery, a rare Byzantine relic, was also targeted.

Each of these sites represents more than architecture; they are touchstones of identity and continuity in a city under siege.

Nariman Khilla told TNA that restoring these sites will take decades, substantial funding, and international expertise.

"It is a daunting task, but every stone returned, every artefact recovered, is an act of resilience. Restoration itself becomes a political statement: that we will not allow our memory to be erased," she said.

For the people of al-Daraj, the palace is also a social anchor. Residents share memories of school trips, family visits, and exhibitions held in their halls.

These recollections animate the restoration work, linking the present to a past that was nearly lost.

"It's about continuity, each stone replaced is a symbol that we survived, that our culture survived," Khilla said.

Pasha's Palace, once a silent witness to centuries of rulers, wars, and foreign campaigns, now sees a community determined to resist erasure. Through the combined efforts of archaeologists, workers, and residents, the palace's stones are slowly being returned to their place.