How to plan a wedding when you don’t know what tomorrow will bring

Engagement and marriage are supposed to be among the happiest stages of life, filled with family, gifts, flowers, music and the excitement of beginning a new life with the one you love.

Gazan weddings used to be large, lively occasions in which men danced the traditional dabke line while women filled the air with their ululations — the zaghrouta, a high-pitched vocal trill signalling celebration.

In the days and weeks leading up to the festivities, brides searched for their dresses, families prepared traditional foods, such as summaqiyya, a sumac and vegetable dish, and trays of rice and chicken. At the same time, florists arranged bouquets and decorations — all to bring to life a day that couples and families had imagined for years.

Today, however, weddings in Gaza are very different. The war has made it almost impossible to imagine these milestones as they once were. Yet the desire to carry on — to love, to build a future, to share one’s life — these live on.

On July 12, 2026, as I prepared for my wedding, my mother and I went to the market in Gaza City’s as-Saraya area to buy a few things. I was looking at clothes, kitchenware and other everyday items, thinking about my dress and the life my fiance and I were planning to build together.

The market was quiet until, suddenly, four missiles struck nearby.

We dropped our heads at the thunderous sound, and within seconds a thick black cloud of dust rose behind us. People began looking around, asking what had happened, and I realised that I had gone from dreaming about my wedding to being grateful for having survived an attack.

But the uncertainty continued. On July 28, we faced a sudden forced displacement by Israel in the Yarmouk area, making us flee with only a few belongings. Men, women and children huddled in the streets for nearly two hours, and then the targeted area was bombed, covering us all in dust and debris. It seemed like nowhere was safe.

After these experiences, I began to wonder what it means to prepare for marriage when life in Gaza remains so uncertain — when a ceasefire is just words on paper. How do you plan a wedding when even moving around areas said to be safe is dangerous? How do you buy furniture for a home you are trying to make livable when the prices of necessities keep rising? And the toughest question of all: how do you plan a new life when you do not know what tomorrow will bring?

Across Gaza, young couples are trying to navigate engagement and marriage amid displacement, financial pressure, loss, grief and uncertainty. Their stories are different, but they have one thing in common: they are all trying to build a future in a place where even imagining the prospect of one has become difficult.