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Israel resumed its bombing campaign in Gaza in mid-March, putting a definitive end to a ceasefire it had already violated countless times. But even before the deadly airstrikes, those of us in Gaza had already found ourselves once again trapped in an endless cycle of fear and uncertainty due to the suffocating closure of border crossings that prevent goods and humanitarian aid from entering. We know all too well what the end of a ceasefire means: the end of any semblance of life in Gaza. The thought of relentless bombardment, continuous displacement and daily killings becoming our reality once more is unbearable. And even more terrifying is the return of starvation.
After enduring 15 months of extreme hunger starting in December 2023, many of us have come to see starvation as even more brutal than the more explicitly violent horrors of war. The memory of days when we could not find even a single loaf of bread to silence our empty stomachs haunts us. This fear has driven people across Gaza to rush to the markets, desperately trying to buy and store whatever food they can.
My father and I also went out to buy supplies on March 19, 2025, the day after the ceasefire ended. We bought flour, rice and legumes — foods that are both affordable and rich in fiber, helping to keep us full for longer. The markets were packed with panicked shoppers, all fearing this might be the last time they would see food on the shelves. Many essential items had already disappeared, including fruit, eggs, vegetables and chicken. Even during the ceasefire, these foods were available only in small quantities and lasted just a few days, as they spoil quickly without reliable electricity or refrigeration.
Sometimes, to make our rice supply last as long as possible, we limit how often we eat it, relying instead on lentil soup or white beans cooked in tomato sauce. We cycle through the same few meals we survived on during the past months of starvation. Dinner is often skipped entirely to conserve food, with whatever little remains given to the children.
However, some families in Gaza can’t even afford food for their children, having lost their jobs due to the war and spent all their savings just trying to survive the past 17 months of war. My neighbor, Abu Mohamed, lost his job as a painter because of the war and used up all his savings on basic necessities — clothes, a tent and blankets — after being forced to evacuate to the south with nothing but a small bag on his back.
He said he relied entirely on humanitarian aid to feed his family, but since the recent closure of border crossings, the amount of aid reaching him has decreased significantly, and he has been struggling to get enough food. “I am living off the food my children can barely get from the few charity kitchens still operating,” he said. “If these kitchens stop working, my children and I will literally have nothing to eat.”
Some bakeries in Gaza had managed to keep producing bread, but only at a limited capacity. Getting bread became a grueling ordeal, with people standing in line for hours, hoping to secure a single bag. Every day at dawn, my brother Mohammed would head to the bakery, trying to be among the first 50 people in line. Sometimes, he waited more than five hours, only to return empty-handed when the bread ran out.
On April 1, the Bakery Owners Association announced that it had run out of flour and fuel, forcing bakeries across Gaza to close. This worsened the already severe food shortage.
The sight of people standing in long lines for bread is heartbreaking. At times, security struggled to keep the crowd in order, and things would quickly spiral out of control. I saw children being pushed and even kicked amid the chaos, crying as they fought to stay on their feet. Some collapsed from exhaustion — either from hours of waiting in the scorching heat or from the overwhelming pressure of the crowd.
For weeks, many people had rationed their remaining flour and firewood, relying on the bakeries for as long as they stayed open. However, on April 1, the Bakery Owners Association announced that it had run out of flour and fuel, forcing bakeries across Gaza to close. This worsened the already severe food shortage, leaving many without even basic food.
Knowing that our stored food won’t last much longer, the fear of having nothing left to eat becomes more real each day. If the border crossings remain closed, we will soon face a complete food shortage. Many are terrified that the next wave of starvation will be far worse than what we’ve already endured.
What makes this situation even more unbearable is that the ceasefire had briefly given us a taste of fresh, nutritious food — something we had been deprived of for so long. We began to believe that life might return to some semblance of normalcy, and that starvation would not return. But now, with Israel resuming the war, we find ourselves back in the same dire circumstances. Our bodies remain weak, still bearing the toll of 17 months of near-constant hunger. The brief reprieve we had during the ceasefire is fading, and with it, our hope for something better.
Access to food is a fundamental human right, yet we in Gaza are being deliberately deprived of it. The Israeli occupation has used starvation as a weapon of war, turning hunger into a tool to strangle life and break the resilience of an already exhausted people. This systematic deprivation is not a mere consequence of war but a deliberate policy aimed at crushing us. The world cannot turn a blind eye to this crime. Urgent action is needed to stop the cruel use of hunger as a means of oppression and to ensure that we have the basic right to survive, and live with dignity.
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