How Can We Fast for Ramadan in Gaza When We Were Already Starving?

Part of the Series

Struggle and Solidarity: Writing Toward Palestinian Liberation

A few months ago, many of us in Gaza were awaiting this Ramadan with a deep sense of fear. Our only prayer was that this Ramadan would be different from the last one — a month marked by starvation and death. The Israeli occupation had restricted the entry of humanitarian aid, causing severe hunger to spread across the Strip, especially in the north. Markets lay empty, and the food we had stored for our darkest days was nearly gone. Desperation left us wondering: How are we going to survive?

Most families, including mine, had no choice but to grind animal feed into flour to bake bread for iftar and suhoor, the meals we eat during Ramadan. The bread was filled with sand, its taste unbearable, but we were forced to eat it just to stay alive. We also relied on wild greens that grew from the winter rain, such as khobeiza (mallow) and silq (chard), cooking them as our main meal for iftar.

We would finish iftar still hungry, dreaming of the delicious food and Arabic desserts that once adorned our Ramadan table. Starvation drove many, including children, to risk their lives by venturing to the Kuwait and Nabulsi corridors — areas swarming with Israeli soldiers and tanks — in hopes of intercepting humanitarian aid trucks and securing flour, what we had come to call “white gold.” Few managed to return with a bag of flour. Most came back empty-handed. Some never returned at all, while others were injured as most nights of last Ramadan saw bloody massacres against hungry Palestinians desperately trying to get food for their families.

For the first time, we were deprived of Ramadan’s pleasures — it became a month of constant struggle and despair. Even in the months that followed, little changed. The only difference was that flour and canned food began entering the Strip, but prices remained exorbitant — one bag of flour cost $80, and a single can of lunch meat was $10. Sometimes, we were forced to eat expired canned food, and even the flour was infested with worms. It was unfit for consumption, but we had no other option — we simply cleaned it and baked it. The words that forced us to endure its awful taste were always the same: We have no other choice.

Fresh foods like vegetables, fruit, eggs and chicken were unheard of luxuries, as they were not allowed to enter the Strip during the war. I personally suffered from jaundice after surviving solely on canned food, which lacked essential nutrients and was filled with preservatives.

The thought of a new Ramadan approaching was terrifying, as we were still living under the same conditions. Fasting requires healthy food rich in vitamins and protein to endure more than 14 hours of fasting. Without access to proper nutrition, our bodies were too weak to withstand the long hours of fasting.

Those were the worries that consumed our minds all the time. However, when the ceasefire went into effect in January 2025, for some of us, those fears began to fade, replaced by a sense of relief and hope we had not felt in a long time. The ceasefire allowed humanitarian aid and goods to enter the Strip, giving people the chance to return to cooking the meals and desserts that once made Ramadan special.

For the first time in so long, the markets are filled with items we had been deprived of — fresh vegetables, fruit and even chicken. Shops selling Ramadan specialties have reopened, offering treats like kunafa with cream, qataif stuffed with dates and drizzled with syrup, golden falafel filled with onions and sumac, and an array of pickles and dates.

The drinks we once savored during Ramadan, such as carob, tamarind and licorice, are back on the shelves. Ramadan decorations begin appearing on the streets, and Islamic nasheeds can be heard from shops and homes, slowly reviving the familiar atmosphere of Ramadan that had been lost during the war.

Last Ramadan saw bloody massacres against hungry Palestinians desperately trying to get food for their families.

For the first time, I can sit down to a meal that truly satisfies me after long hours of fasting. The spread includes a main dish of chicken and rice, soup, a fresh salad, cheese-stuffed samosas and my favorite drink: carob with extra sugar.

After iftar, my family and I prepare ourselves to pray al-Tarawih with peaceful hearts, unafraid of bombardment, truly feeling the spiritual essence of Ramadan. Then, we enjoy qataif with Arabic coffee and begin preparing for suhoor. For a moment, these simple pleasures feel like dreams that once seemed impossible to fulfill.

Despite the destruction of our homes and the loss of our loved ones, we were grateful that this ceasefire gave us a chance to reclaim some of the Ramadan traditions we had been deprived of due to the war. Amid the pain, we held on to hope — that the war would not return, that this Ramadan and the months that followed would offer us some peace, that we could continue cooking the meals we longed for, and that starvation wouldn’t return. However, our best efforts to hold on to hope are constantly shattered by the Israeli occupation.

Just a few days ago, news broke of Israeli threats that the war might resume, raising fears that the ceasefire could collapse. This has left the people of Gaza in a state of terror, worn down by continuous displacement and heavy bombardment.

On top of this, the recent Israeli closure of border crossings and the tightening of the blockade on humanitarian aid has left many in a constant state of worry. The food supply in the markets is only enough for a few weeks, and dozens of essential food and consumer goods are running out — especially perishable items such as eggs, vegetables, chicken and yogurt, which are usually brought in small quantities that last just a few days. If this closure continues, it will surely lead to another wave of starvation.

Most people in Gaza are afraid that the crisis of last Ramadan could repeat itself. We don’t know what the coming days will bring, but we pray for peace and stability, far from the threats of bombardment and hunger.