By JOSEPH KRAUSS and SARAH EL DEEB

The Gaza Strip is in ruins.

There are hills of rubble where apartment blocks stood, and pools of sewage-tainted water spreading disease. City streets have been churned into dirt canyons and, in many places, the air is filled with the stench of unrecovered corpses.

Israel’s yearlong offensive against Hamas, one of the deadliest and most destructive in recent history, has killed more than 41,000 people, a little over half of them women and children, according to local health officials. With no end in sight to the war and no plan for the day after, it is impossible to say when – or even if – anything will be rebuilt.

Even after the fighting stops, hundreds of thousands of people could be stuck living in squalid tent camps for years. Experts say reconstruction could take decades.

“This war is destruction and misery. It would make the stones cry out,” said Shifaa Hejjo, a 60-year-old housewife living in a tent pitched on land where her home once stood. “Whoever sees Gaza … It will make them cry.”

Israel blames the destruction on Hamas. Its Oct. 7 attack on Israel — in which some 1,200 people were killed and around 250 taken hostage — ignited the war. Israel says Hamas embedded much of its military infrastructure, including hundreds of kilometers (miles) of tunnels, in densely populated areas where some of the heaviest battles were fought. Hamas has been designated as a terrorist organization by the United States, Canada and the European Union.

The fighting left roughly a quarter of all structures in Gaza destroyed or severely damaged, according to a U.N. assessment in September based on satellite videos. It said around 66% of structures, including more than 227,000 housing units, had sustained at least some damage.

If there’s a cease-fire, around half of all families “have nowhere to go back to,” said Alison Ely, a Gaza-based coordinator with the Shelter Cluster, an international coalition of aid providers led by the Norwegian Refugee Council.

The devastation in Gaza exceeds front-line towns in Ukraine

Almost as many buildings have been destroyed or damaged in Gaza as in all of Ukraine after its first two years of war with Russia, according to Corey Scher and Jamon Van Den Hoek, U.S.-based researchers who use satellite radar to document the wars’ devastation.

To put that into perspective: Gaza is less than half the size of Ukraine’s capital, Kyiv.

The amount of destruction in central and southern Gaza alone, Scher said, is roughly equivalent to what was lost in the front-line town of Bakhmut, the scene of one of the deadliest battles in the Ukraine war and where Russian forces destroyed nearly every building in their path to force Ukrainian troops to withdraw. The destruction in northern Gaza is even worse, he said.

Gaza’s water and sanitation system has collapsed. More than 80% of its health facilities — and even more of its roads — are damaged or destroyed.

“I can’t think of any parallel, in terms of the severity of damage, for an enclave or a country or a people,” Scher said.

At the end of January, the World Bank estimated $18.5 billion of damage — nearly the combined economic output of the West Bank and Gaza in 2022. That was before some intensely destructive Israeli ground operations, including in the southern border city of Rafah.

’I couldn’t tell where people’s homes were’

When Israeli ground forces pushed into the southern city of Khan Younis in January, Shifaa Hejjo and her family fled their four-story home with only the clothes they were wearing.

They spent months in various tent camps before she decided to return – and the sight brought her to tears.

Her entire neighborhood had been destroyed, her former home and the roads leading to it lost in a sea of rubble.

“I didn’t recognize it,” she said. “I couldn’t tell where people’s homes were.”

Around 90% of Gaza’s 2.3 million people have been displaced by the war, often multiple times, according to U.N. estimates. Hundreds of thousands have crowded into sprawling tent camps near the coast with no electricity, running water or toilets. Hunger is widespread.

Hejjo lived in a tent in the courtyard of a hospital. Before that, she was in Muwasi, the main tent camp in southern Gaza.

“It smelled bad,” she said. “There were diseases spreading.”

She said her husband, who was suffering from liver disease, was broken-hearted when he heard their home had been destroyed and he died shortly thereafter.

She was among the first to return after Israeli forces withdrew in April. Her neighbors stayed away, fearful they would find bodies or unexploded bombs.

But for her it was still home.

“It is better to live in my home, where I lived for 37 years, even though it is destroyed,” she said.

Hejjo and her children dug through the rubble with shovels and their bare hands, going brick by brick and saving whatever could be reused. Torn clothes were used to feed cooking fires.

Rats had crept in, and swarms of mosquitoes hovered over the ruins. There was broken glass everywhere. They set up a tent fortified by corrugated metal sheeting and some bricks salvaged from her destroyed home. A light drizzle wet their clothes as they slept.

U.N. agencies say unemployment has soared to around 80% — up from nearly 50% before the war — and that almost the entire population is living in poverty. Even those with means would find it nearly impossible to import construction materials because of Israeli restrictions, ongoing fighting and the breakdown of law and order.

There are mountains of rubble, little water and no electricity

The first obstacle to any significant rebuilding is the rubble – mountains of it.

Where houses, shops and office buildings once stood, there are now giant drifts of rubble laced with human remains, hazardous substances and unexploded munitions.

The U.N. estimates the war has left some 40 million tons of debris and rubble in Gaza, enough to fill New York’s Central Park to a depth of eight meters (about 25 feet). It could take up to 15 years and nearly $650 million to clear it all away, it said.

There’s also the question of where to dispose of it: The U.N. estimates about five square kilometers (about two square miles) of land would be needed, which will be hard to come by in the small and densely populated territory.

It isn’t just homes that were destroyed, but also critical infrastructure.

The U.N. estimates nearly 70% of Gaza’s water and sanitation plants have been destroyed or damaged. That includes all five of the territory’s wastewater treatment facilities, plus desalination plants, sewage pumping stations, wells and reservoirs.

The employees who once managed municipal water and waste systems have been displaced, and some killed. And fuel shortages have made it difficult to keep operating facilities that are still intact.

The international charity Oxfam said it applied in December for a permit to bring in desalination units, and pipes to repair water infrastructure. It took three months for Israel to approve the shipment, but it still has not entered Gaza, Oxfam said.

The destruction of sewage networks has left streets flooded with putrid water, hastening the spread of disease.

There has been no central power in Gaza since the opening days of the war, when its sole power plant was forced to shut down for lack of fuel, and more than half of the territory’s electrical grid has been destroyed, according to the World Bank.

Can Gaza be rebuilt?

Wealthy Arab countries like Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates have said they are only willing to contribute to Gaza’s reconstruction as part of a postwar settlement that creates a path to a Palestinian state.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has ruled that out, saying he won’t allow Hamas or even the Western-backed Palestinian Authority to govern Gaza. He has said Israel will maintain open-ended security control and delegate civilian affairs to local Palestinians. But none are known to have volunteered, and Hamas has threatened to kill anyone who aids the occupation.

Rebuilding Gaza would also require the import of massive amounts of construction supplies and heavy equipment, which Israel is unlikely to allow as long as there’s a potential for Hamas to rebuild its military infrastructure. In any case, Gaza has only a small number of crossings with limited capacity.

The Israeli military body that coordinates civilian affairs in Gaza says it does not restrict the entry of civilian supplies and allows so-called dual-use items that could also be used for military purposes. Israel allowed some construction materials in before the war under what was known as the Gaza Reconstruction Mechanism, but it was subject to heavy restrictions and delays.

The Shelter Cluster estimates that it would take 40 years to rebuild all of Gaza’s destroyed homes under that setup.

For now, aid providers are struggling just to bring in enough basic tents because of the limited number of trucks going into Gaza and the challenges of delivering aid. Efforts to bring in more robust temporary housing are still in the early stages, and no one has even tried to bring in construction materials, according to Ely.

In September, the Shelter Cluster estimated 900,000 people were still in need of tents, bedding and other items to prepare for the region’s typically cold and rainy winters.

El Deeb reported from Beirut. Associated Press reporter Mohammad Jahjouh in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, contributed.

By JULIA FRANKEL

KFAR AZA, Israel (AP) — On a sun-dappled day in Kibbutz Kfar Aza, Liora Eilon stood at the spot where her son was killed. She stooped to pick a figurine from the pile of belongings scattered around an abandoned home nearby.

“Every time we come here, Tal leaves us a little message,” the 71-year-old said, turning over the plastic soldier in her hands.

It has been a year since Hamas terrorists stormed into this community within sight of the border fence surrounding Gaza. Eilon’s 46-year-old son, Tal, who was the Kfar Aza civilian defense commander, was killed in the early moments of the attack, as he ran to the kibbutz armory to grab a weapon. Hamas has been designated as a terrorist organization by the United States, Canada and the European Union.

Now living in a university dormitory in Israel’s north, Liora Eilon wonders if she’ll ever return home to this place, seared into Israeli history for that day of mass death, when the terrorists killed some 1,200 people in southern communities and took about 250 others hostage. The attack sparked an ongoing Israeli campaign in Gaza that has killed more than 41,600 Palestinians and laid waste to much of the territory.

“How can I trust the government who abandoned me here, who betrayed me, promised me that my family was safe here?” she said. “The government wants us to go back to Kfar Aza, but I need more to feel safe.”

Only about 50 of Kfar Aza’s 1,000 residents have returned. They live among the skeletons of houses burned by explosives, riddled with bullet holes or reduced to rubble by tank shells during the battle that raged for days.

The others are scattered in dorms and hotels further north. The Associated Press spoke to a dozen residents who shared feelings of extreme vulnerability to future attack and deep misgivings about Israel’s military and government, and the Palestinians on the other side of the fence.

Some wondered whether such a scarred place could ever be lived in at all.

“Are we going to live inside a memorial? Are we going to see a plaque every few meters, he was killed here and he was killed here?” asked Zohar Shpack, 58, who has returned and serves in the civilian defense squad. “I don’t know yet.”

‘It’s still the seventh of October’

The seasons have spun by since Oct. 7. Relatively untended, Kfar Aza’s orchards have borne new fruit. With few to harvest, soldiers guarding the community have their pick from loads of fresh avocadoes.

The land still holds traces of the day. On trees hung with fresh pomegranates, some of last year’s fruit remains, charred and black like used grenades. Gardener Rafael Friedman says he still finds teeth and bones in the soil when he rakes back the overgrowth — likely remnants of Hamas killed in the fighting.

Kfar Aza has always been a close-knit place. It takes just 15 minutes to walk from one end to the other, past neighborhoods, orchards and a soccer pitch. Many residents grew up here and raised families alongside each other.

Now photos of slain young people, couples killed together and hostages are posted everywhere. During the day, former residents like Eilon guide tours, hold memorials and see familiar faces. When night falls, most disappear to hotel rooms to the north.

Every Friday, survivors gather on Shachar Schnorman’s porch for dinner, filling the kibbutz with the rare sound of laughter.

“It’s the only place where people can talk about the seventh and all the people at the table understand exactly what they are talking about,” Schnorman said.

“We do whatever we can to try to build community, to try to show … that people can live here,” he said.

The government says it will rebuild. Meanwhile, it’s constructing pre-fabricated houses for residents in another kibbutz, Ruhama, about 15 kilometers (10 miles) away. After two years there, they say authorities want them to return to Kfar Aza.

About two-thirds of the community plan to move into the temporary housing. On a recent tour, some enthusiastically examined the box-like structures. It’s a chance, they said, to live together and rebuild on the southern land they’re accustomed to.

But some weren’t convinced Kfar Aza will be rebuilt and not sure they’d ever feel safe returning.

They want to know why it took so many hours before soldiers arrived at the kibbutz. The military has launched an investigation into what happened, but has not yet released its results. An investigation into the military’s failures at neighboring Kibbutz Be’eri found a “lack of command and control, a lack of coordination and a lack of order” among the units that fought there.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government has brushed off calls for accountability, saying it will investigate at war’s end.

Simona Steinbrecher feels too frozen in time to make a decision now about whether to return. Her daughter, Doron, a veterinary nurse who spent her girlhood in Kfar Aza, was dragged by terrorists into Gaza on Oct. 7. She is among 66 Israelis still held captive. Hamas is believed to hold the bodies of 35 others.

The 65-year-old Steinbrecher last saw her daughter in a Hamas propaganda video. Doron’s skin was pale, her voice weak.

“Without Doron, it’s still the seventh of October,” her mother said. “And we won’t go home until she’s home.”

The military command structure collapsed when it was needed most

Hostage families and many residents of southern communities are boycotting the government’s ceremony commemorating Oct. 7. To them, as long as it fails to bring hostages home and refuses to investigate and take responsibility for its mistakes, it has blood on its hands. Instead, residents of Kfar Aza will hold a small tribute and lower the kibbutz flag to half-mast.

Residents said they have nothing but admiration for the troops who fought that day. But they are furious at the military higher-ups, blaming them for a command structure that collapsed when the kibbutz needed it most.

When she recounts the day, Eilon is gripped with fury and astonishment — over 35 hours of horror her family endured and the military’s response.

When the sirens began blaring that Saturday morning, Eilon thought it would take the army minutes to arrive, she told the AP as she toured the bullet-riddled remnants of her home.

It took hours.

Her family scrambled into their safe room. A son and daughter muscled the door shut against gunmen trying to get inside. Granddaughters, Gali and Mika, hid under the bed. Eilon got a message saying Tal had gone out to fight.

The five huddled in the saferoom, hearing the attackers’ shouts and gunfire, not knowing whether Tal was dead or alive. Israeli troops finally gained control of their house, and Eilon said she saw how scared and confused the young soldiers looked.

Gali shared with them desperate texts from her friends across the kibbutz trying to escape the rampage.

“She became a 15-year-old commander of an IDF elite unit,” said Eilon, using the acronym for the Israeli military.

Still, the troops didn’t evacuate the family. It was only on Sunday afternoon, as fighters were hiding out in the house again, that soldiers hustled them out.

As she ran into her backyard, Eilon saw a tank swivel its cannon at her house. It fired, collapsing her home on the fighters inside.

Soon after being rescued, Eilon learned Tal was dead.

“I’d known it all along,” she said. “But some part of me was hoping that he was injured, that he was unconscious in some hospital.”

‘They could have saved them’

As the battle still raged, some residents were evacuated early and sped away in army jeeps. Hanan Dann, a young father, recounted passing a cluster of soldiers at a gas station just outside the kibbutz, who looked like they were waiting for orders.

“I wanted to say, there’s fighting inside still, there’re people dying,” he said. “They could have saved them.”

Soldiers and Hamas fought in Kfar Aza for days. By the end, Hamas had killed 64 civilians and 22 soldiers and dragged 19 hostages into Gaza.

Nearby, in the recesses of the Negev desert, stands a decrepit water tower. It’s a remnant of Be’erot Yitzhak, a kibbutz abandoned after a deadly 1948 Egyptian attack during the war that led to Israel’s creation.

“Will that be what Kfar Aza looks like 10 years from now?” asked Dann. “Just a stop on the highway I can point out to my kids?”

Even those who want to reinhabit it know Kfar Aza will never be the same.

Shpack, the civilian guard member, said he understands why no one would bring a child here now, pointing to the border fence. Every few minutes, an Israeli warplane drops a bomb on Gaza, puncturing the kibbutz’s silence with a loud boom.

“And even once the bombs end, how can you raise him here?” Shpack asked. “How do you explain what happened here?”

For some, the kibbutz’s fate is tied to Gaza.

Some want Israel to take a hard line in the future.

Marcus Scharfstein, 29, who lives in the kibbutz, said he won’t feel completely safe until Israel reestablishes Jewish settlements in Gaza. Israel unilaterally withdrew its soldiers and some 8,000 Jewish settlers from Gaza in 2005.

“If I will know that in Gaza right now, there are 10, 20 villages of Jewish people,” he said, “I will feel in control again,” adding he did not feel that way before the Oct. 7 attack.

But others say as long as there is no peace agreement with Palestinians, they will again be on the front lines of another Oct. 7. Some of Gaza’s Palestinians once lived in these same arid reaches of what is now southern Israel. Almost no trace is left of their villages after Israeli troops drove them out during the 1948 war.

“We’ve tried war enough times and it never led to anything good,” Eilon said. She wants a new government that will talk to the Palestinians to find “some arrangement for us to live together on the same land.”

“I’m dreaming for the day with an open fence from here to the sea, with two people living together.”