Breaking the fast in the shadow of famine

Six months into Israel's war on Gaza, every resident of the strip is at risk of crisis-level food insecurity.

Famine looms over the 2.2 million population in a manufactured crisis - caused by the war, blockade and ever-tightening restrictions on aid- that is unfolding at an unprecedented rate.

Despite the UN Security Council passing a resolution for an immediate ceasefire for the remainder of Ramadan, the bombardment has continued and every day is a struggle for Gaza's residents to find food and safety.

Some have been displaced more than half a dozen times, others have had family members killed in the shelling. Today, they find themselves far from home, barely scraping by in makeshift tents.

Parents, who once proudly hosted feasts in their homes, have come to rely on community kitchens or rarely received aid packages to feed their children during what is typically a joyous and holy month.

As of March 21, at least 27 children are reported to have died of malnutrition and dehydration across the strip, according to Gaza's health ministry. The UN Committee on the Rights of the Child said the actual death toll from starvation is likely to be significantly higher, and it is set to rise.

The National spoke to four families across the middle and southern areas of Gaza - as the north is too unsafe to visit - to find out what they have been eating each day for iftar and how their lives have been upended by the war.

Salwa Al Masry, 46

Salwa Al Masry feels overwhelmed by the responsibility of feeding her family of 14 when so little is available. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Salwa Al Masry feels overwhelmed by the responsibility of feeding her family of 14 when so little is available. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

In the six months since the war on Gaza began, Salwa Al Masry and her family have been displaced as many times.

The mother-of-12 now cares for 14 people, including two children with disabilities, almost exclusively on her own in a tent in Deir Al Balah - about 20km from her home town of Beit Hanoun.

"When the war started, we left and went to Jabalia refugee camp. We fled Jabalia because they said the North was dangerous and went to [Jamal Abdel Naser Street area in City] to my uncle’s house," she says, swatting flies from her face.

Salwa and her children left the place after two days as they didn't want to become a burden to others. "Next, [the Israelis] said we should go to the industrial area [to an UNRWA shelter]. We went there and, maybe a week later, the Israelis said to leave the North entirely. We went to Nuseirat [Camp] to stay at Al Sawarha school," she says.

"The Israelis said to evacuate Nuseirat, so we went to Al Maghazi. We stayed two or three days and, again, we were told to leave the area by some people. The people were scared and started to frighten each other so we came to Deir Al Balah."

The family now lives in a small tent in Ard Shuraab.

They predominantly survive off food they collect from the tikieh, a community kitchen that batch-cooks meals using mostly canned foods to distribute among the displaced Palestinians in the area.

Though they are grateful for whatever they receive, Salwa says the food from the tikieh doesn't always arrive and, when it does, often isn't enough to sustain them and lacks the nutrition her children need.

When The National spoke to Salwa during the first week of Ramadan, she was sitting cross-legged in her tent in front of stacks of mismatched blankets. She was tearing khubeizeh leaves - a wild mallow weed - into a plastic bag. Before the war, khubeizeh was a common meal in Gaza. Under usual circumstances, the leaves are shredded and cooked down in chicken stock with spices and couscous. It is served with fried garlic and onion poured on top along with a squeeze of lemon. It is eaten either as a soup or on top of torn bread but the recipe varies from household to household.

"Today, I told my daughters 'let's walk up the road and see if we can find anything to eat.

"I went out with the belief that God will provide and we saw some khubeizeh leaves on the side of the road. I told the girls to bring a plastic bag from a man, who sat by the roadside, and me and my daughters picked the leaves. Everyone passing by saw us picking the leaves. What shall I do? We picked enough leaves for me to make us a meal today."

Before the war, Salwa says her family's iftar table would be filled with a wide variety of meals every day. But now, food is either not available or prohibitively expensive.

Her son still asks for his favourite food, such as siniyet lahmeh - a tray bake of spiced minced meat topped with sliced roasted potatoes. But a kilo of meat costs 10 times more than the pre-war price of 20 shekels (US $5.50). A kilo of mloukhiyeh (jute marrow leaves, typically stewed with whole garlic in meat or chicken stock and served with lemon and rice) previously cost just 5 shekels and is now about 30 shekels.

"Sometimes I have patience and other times I scream at him," says Salwa of her son's requests. "I let all my anger out at him. I can't [handle it] because they're wearing me down and I have nothing to give them."

Her husband, who has a heart condition, has been out of work since the war began and it is mostly down to Salwa to keep the family going. She says their home in Beit Hanoun has been flattened by Israeli forces.

Beit Hanoun, in northern Gaza, is destroyed by Israeli air strikes, on March 6, 2024. EPA

Beit Hanoun, in northern Gaza, is destroyed by Israeli air strikes, on March 6, 2024. EPA

"Our entire area was hit with a belt of air strikes ... All our homes east of Beit Hanoun have been bulldozed to the ground.

"I don't have a home any more. Now I am living in a tent and when everything is settled, I will have to live in a tent back home ... we will pack up our tent, take it back to where our home was and live in a tent there. There will be no change for me."

She has also lost family members in the bombing.

Her father, who had hearing disability, was killed in a drone strike, along with two others, while returning to his home in Al Mughraqa. Her cousin was also killed in his home on Jamal Abdel Nasser Street in an Israeli air strike while another cousin was paralysed in the same attack.

Today, Salwa struggles to save money to buy diapers for her two disabled family members. Her daughters also desperately need sanitary pads, all while her younger children cry for foods they once ate in abundance.

"They tell me 'we want sweets', they ask for qatayef (folded pancakes stuffed with sweetened cheese or spiced nuts that are fried and dunked in sugar syrup) but I tell them 'that was before, not today. There isn't any any more.' They want fruits. One of the disabled boys asks me for apples and I tell him 'there aren't any today'. I trick him and say 'maybe tomorrow' ... We miss everything."

Salwa Al Masry's son Rakan asks his mother for money to buy sweets 'like the other children'. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Salwa Al Masry's son Rakan asks his mother for money to buy sweets 'like the other children'. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

She says her children have lost weight from malnutrition and she is struggling with her asthma - particularly during Ramadan.

Her symptoms tend to flare up when she burns pieces of paper or plastic to maintain a fire for cooking.

"I’m so tired. I just want someone to help to relieve me. I just want the bare minimum to live. What else can I ask for? This is all I ask for."

Lamar Al Masry, 16

Lamar Al Masry helps her mother by caring for her younger siblings and collecting food from the tikieh. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Lamar Al Masry helps her mother by caring for her younger siblings and collecting food from the tikieh. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Salwa's daughter Lamar helps her mother as best as she can but the war is wearing her down too. Though she should be in school, her days are spent helping her mother cook - when they have ingredients for a meal - collecting food from the tikieh, or caring for her disabled siblings.

"We are 14 people including two with disabilities, who we care for. My back hurts from carrying one of them so much. I don’t sleep well because of my back pain. Every now and again they need their diapers changed. My sisters and I change their diapers for them," says Lamar.

She misses the days before October 7, when they lived in their home in Beit Hanoun. She says they were happy there and never wanted anything more.

The family fled their home for their grandfather's house at 2am one night in October after Israeli air strikes in the area began to intensify. They would move another five times before settling in Deir Al Balah.

"We didn’t leave like some people with a car, we left on our feet wearing these clothes. I spent the winter in the shirt I'm wearing and one other and the other one is slightly thicker, and this burnous," she says pulling at her headscarf. "I left Beit Hanoun wearing this. Every night I wash it and I wake up the next morning and wear it."

Their tent is crowded and they have only three blankets to share among 14 people.

"We sleep with one blanket shared between four. We sleep close to each other to stay warm. We tremble from the cold. We spent the winter in these clothes."

A kobona, or food aid box, donated by Turkey and distributed by UNRWA. Abed El Rahman for The National

A kobona, or food aid box, donated by Turkey and distributed by UNRWA. Abed El Rahman for The National

The family received a few items from aid agencies, including some clothing and a kobona - a box of food distributed by a charity.

"We received an aid box the day before yesterday and we were very happy. It’s really small but we keep it to the side and every day we eat something from it so it doesn’t finish too quickly because if it finishes we might not get another," she says, quick to thank God for what they have received to date.

One of her younger sisters wears a jacket given to them by a man whose daughter died.

Lamar's grandfather was killed in an air strike, as were two of her friends. One, Rula, lived in Jabalia while the other, Fatima, was killed in Beit Hanoun.

"Their home was hit with an air strike and collapsed on top of them. They died under the rubble. Until today they haven’t been able to get them out. I ask their sisters about them, they’re the only ones in the family still alive, and they tell me they still haven’t gotten them out. Her brother was eaten by a dog. His corpse was eaten by a dog."

Her younger siblings beg her to ask their mother for money to buy sweets or for meals they would eat before the war but Lamar knows they can't afford them anymore.

"We crave everything: okra, mloukhiyeh, regular stews - not even meat."

She says 1kg of mloukhiyeh previously cost 5 shekels but can now cost up to 30 shekels. A box of aubergines used to cost up to 8 shekels, while that money fetches just three or four aubergines today.

"How will my mum cook that for 14 people? It wont be enough ... we used to choose what we want. Now we will accept the smallest thing and thank God for it."

Shaker Abdelsalam, 38

Shaker Abdelsalam and his family outside his tent in Deir Al Balah. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Shaker Abdelsalam and his family outside his tent in Deir Al Balah. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Standing outside his family's tent on a chilly day during Ramadan, Shaker Abdelsalam looks far older than his age. The effects of war are written on his face as he lists the needs of his 16-member family, which includes his wife and four children. Four of his family members wear diapers because they are sick and he has a son, who has to undergo kidney dialysis every day.

The family lived in Al Mughraqa but had to flee South, first to Nuseirat camp and then to Deir Al Balah with the clothes on their back when the bombing campaign began.

"We had three people [in the family] who were killed. We came here and made a tent from nylon and here we stay," Shaker says.

During the temporary ceasefire in November, the family returned briefly to Al Moghraqa but found their home destroyed and its contents gone.

"People finished off our misery by robbing us too," he says.

Ramadan has given Shaker an excuse to tell the children about why they have no food but then iftar comes and they hardly have anything to break their fast on. They survive mostly off stale bread that they deep fry.

"From the start of the war, my son, who needs kidney dialysis, has been begging me saying 'I'll kiss your shoe but I want to eat meat'. I tell him 'where can I get it from? Every one is in the same situation as us'," Shaker says.

Before the war, the family would break their fast on fish or maftoul but, since then, they have come to rely on food from the tikieh or stale bread from Al Aqsa Martyrs Hospital compound.

"[My children] ask me for all types of food. They ask for fruits and vegetables and meat but I can't bring them anything. I trick them and tell them we will get some tomorrow. I distract them until they sleep," Shaker says.

"My young son wants milk but we don’t have anything, so I give him flour. I mix flour into water and give that to him."

Shaker says his children are living a "terrible life" and that his son cries for food in the morning when he is connected to his dialysis machine. He takes his son to Al Aqsa Martyrs Hospital for dialysis when he can, but each session costs about 50 or 70 shekels and he can't afford it any more.

"I can't buy a packet of biscuits for him. He's a child and he doesn't believe me when I say I can't bring him anything," Shaker says.

"The war came and stopped our lives. We have no work or anywhere to go.

"Our situation is really difficult, thank God, harder than you can imagine."

Noha Musbah Al Khor, 48

Noha Musbah Al Khor serves her family of 33 people a meal of potato and eggs for iftar in their tent in Rafah. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Noha Musbah Al Khor serves her family of 33 people a meal of potato and eggs for iftar in their tent in Rafah. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

If given the chance, Noha Musbah Al Khor would take her tent back to her home on the outskirts of Gaza city and live in the entry point.

Though the city's inside was completely destroyed by the Israeli army, she would rather be home than 30km south in Rafah.

She and her family have been displaced at least three times since October and have lived in a tent in Gaza's southern-most city for the past four months.

"Our home has been completely destroyed," she says.

"The floors were demolished, and the couches are ruined and have been thrown on the stairs."

She says a China cabinet that she received as a present from her father-in-law was also not spared. "The Israelis have shattered it and not left a single cup or plate intact."

Palestinians walk through a destroyed Tel Al Hawa neighbourhood in Gaza city. AFP

Palestinians walk through a destroyed Tel Al Hawa neighbourhood in Gaza city. AFP

Though the outside of Noha's home is still intact, members of her family were not as lucky. Thirty-three members of her family were killed in an air strike on their home outside Gaza city. They included her three brothers, their wives and children - all of whom remain under the rubble. In the end, the family gave up on trying to retrieve their bodies for fear of being killed themselves.

Today, the mother-of-five and grandmother-of-nine tries to make a life for her surviving family in Rafah and scrapes what she can together to make them iftar meals.

"I live with my children and my three daughters-in-law. We are 30 people living in one tent. We all sleep on the floor together with every 4-5 people to a blanket and we have no pillows," she says.

Most days they queue for food from the tikieh but, when The National visits in the first week of Ramadan, Noha has managed what feels like the impossible: she has the ingredients to make potato and eggs.

"We haven’t had eggs in more than five months, and I have children and a pregnant woman living with me. We waited at the school for eggs and they gave us six for the entire family."

The simple meal is a far cry from the feasts she would prepare during the holy month last year.

"In Ramadan, we used to make roasted chicken, fattah, maqloubeh, maftoul, tray bakes, schnitzel, shawarma. Now we have lost everything."

For suhoor, she wakes her grandchildren to eat dry sandwiches of dukkah and bread. She says the family have yet to receive a kobona of food aid.

"They have no tea or cucumber," she says of her grandchildren's suhoor. "A kilogram of cucumber costs 14 shekels. I went to go and buy some for them but couldn’t afford it. Last year, for suhoor we would have cheese, chocolate, halawah, labaneh, tea, cucumber, tomatoes, tea, different types of bread. Now, we are deprived of all these things. But praise be to God."

The family fled their home in October after the air strikes in the city began to intensify. They stayed in Noha's daughter's home for a month until moving again to Hamad City in Khan Younis - an area that has since been flattened. They remained in Khan Younis for another month before Israeli forces began dropping leaflets on the city, calling for residents to go further south. From there, they went to Rafah.

The family left behind their three cars that were destroyed in air strikes and set off each time on foot.

"We left, me and my family, without anything: without clothes, without blankets to sleep with, without pillows and we came here walking the entire way," Noha says.

She uses trash collected by her children and grandchildren to cook iftar.

"I don't have a pot, when I want to cook, I have to wander around our neighbours to see if I can borrow a pot," she says. "And it’s the same with a lighter, I don’t have one to light the fire so I have to check if I can borrow one from the neighbours. Is this a life we are living? Is this life?"

Halla Assad Al Khor, 28

Halla Assad Al Khor says she 'tricks' her children by frying pieces of bread when they ask for crisps. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Halla Assad Al Khor says she 'tricks' her children by frying pieces of bread when they ask for crisps. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Ramadan is usually a time of joy for Halla Al Khor but this year, she cannot find happiness in the holy month.

Instead of gathering with family and enjoying her favourite meals at iftar, her days are spent putting together whatever she can to feed her three children once the sun sets.

"Our children really want qatayef.

"They ask for macaroni and delicious food but I can't make it for them so I trick them and I'll fry pieces of bread and tell them they're crisps. I make them food like that to distract them."

She says she can cook but cannot afford the ingredients due to exorbitant food prices at the markets. When they do come across vegetables or canned foods, they stew them in water.

"We used to make kubba, meat manaeesh, soups, salad with vegetables, maqloubeh, white rice, fattah, fattoush. These are things we miss a lot."

Halla and her family moved to Rafah in December after being displaced from Tel Al Hawa in Gaza City. She says life had been challenging before the war but nothing compared to how they are living now.

"Our lives then were better than our lives now. The four walls [of our home] would protect us and give us privacy. Now, in the tents, you hear everything, when my husband and I argue," she says.

"Sometimes he is not happy with the food I make but I tell him ‘I make you what you bring us where shall I bring you food from?’ when I ask him to bring things, he responds the same way ‘where shall I bring you these things from?’ The situation is terrible."

Israeli air strikes have reduced Gaza city's Tel Al Hawa neighbourhood to rubble. EPA

Israeli air strikes have reduced Gaza city's Tel Al Hawa neighbourhood to rubble. EPA

Thirty-three members of her family have been killed in the war to date. Among them were her brother-in-law, his wife, their daughter, and 17-year-old son, as well as her uncles.

"They were killed in a massacre when their entire building was destroyed over their heads," Halla says.

"We are very affected by their deaths, but we also say that they are lucky because they know their destiny and only God knows [about] our future."

Hussein Raji Ashor, 31

Hussein Raji Ashor and his family were in their home in Zeitoun when it was hit by an Israeli air strike. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Hussein Raji Ashor and his family were in their home in Zeitoun when it was hit by an Israeli air strike. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

It was two days before the temporary ceasefire came into effect when Hussein Raji Ashor’s home in Zeitoun was destroyed in an Israeli air strike – while he and his family slept inside.

It was November 22, 2023. The family were lucky to escape with injuries, but their home was levelled to the ground.

“My son’s knee was dislocated, and my daughter was cut on her head and face. She is a one and a half years old,” says Hussein. His son ended up staying in hospital for almost a month.

Today, Hussein, his wife Nesma, and their four children - aged between 5 months to 10 years - live in a tent in Ard Shuraab, Deir Al Balah.

“We had a house and land and everything. Suddenly, we lost everything, and we came here. And here we are.”

The couple spend their days trying to find food for their children. Most days, they collect a meal from the tikieh but Hussein says it’s not enough to sustain them.

Not understanding their new reality, his young children ask him for the food they’re used to eating but everything is either too expensive or no longer available.

“They want qatayef, they want a cup of tea. There is no tea. One kilogram of sugar now costs 75 shekels, [they want] food,” he tells The National.

“They want to eat meat; they just want to hold it. The other day my daughter was holding a bone – I have no idea where she got it from. They want everything.”

When they do get food, they typically end up eating it cold because they don’t have a gas cylinder or plates to serve it in. Even broken bowls, he says, costs 3 or 4 shekels.

The family eat the food they get from the tikieh in dented cans.

“We have returned to the stone age now. We are finished. People are dead.”

Nesma Ashor, 28

Nesma Ashor is struggling to produce milk for her baby due to lack of nutrition. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Nesma Ashor is struggling to produce milk for her baby due to lack of nutrition. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Nesma Ashor's fourth child was born about two weeks after the war began. On October 20, an ambulance rushed her to Al Shifa Hospital, where she gave birth to her daughter Raneem.

At the time, amid all the chaos, they hadn't realised the baby had jaundice.

The following month, their home in Zeitoun was hit by an Israeli air strike as the family slept inside. They survived the attack with injuries and fled to Khan Younis, then Rafah, before settling in Deir Al Balah, where Raneem was treated.

Palestinians flee the Zeitoun district on the southern outskirts of Gaza city. AFP

Palestinians flee the Zeitoun district on the southern outskirts of Gaza city. AFP

"[The doctors] said she developed jaundice from lack of food and nutrition, and a lack of milk. I didn't have money to buy her milk," says Nesma.

The mother-of-four, who suffers from fainting spells, has been having trouble producing enough milk to feed her five-month-old baby.

"Breastfeeding requires food and nutrition and liquids and everything, otherwise I will faint. She doesn’t get full; she cries all the time."

The family also struggle to buy Raneem diapers, which have become too expensive since the war began. Nesma says a packet of diapers can now cost up to 200 shekels ($54) and she has had to make cheaper variants from used materials and nylon.

Since moving to Deir Al Balah, the family have relied on the tikieh for food but Nesma says the meals aren't hearty enough for a breast-feeding mother.

During previous years, the family would make soup for iftar and have fish, chicken or hummus fatteh. They would wake for suhoor and eat cheese, yoghurt and eggs but, this year, Nesma sees no point in waking up before dawn for a final meal before her fast begins.

"I need eggs, cheese, yogurt, something but there’s nothing. You can't find it. All this is for my daughter because I’m nursing. She doesn’t get full. I faint and she keeps crying."

Several members of Nesma's family were killed in the air strike on their home: her maternal uncle, his wife and son, and some cousins on her father's side.

After being displaced four times, she wishes to return home.

"No where is safe, there is no area not under bombardment," she says.

"Now, we are in Deir Al Balah and [there are air strikes] but we’re too tired to move again.

"We don’t feel settled. Even if our home is destroyed, we think it’s better to return to where we are from. I want to return to the way things were."

Rama Al Baraqoni, 10

Rama Al Baraqoni outside her family's tent in Deir Al Balah. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Rama Al Baraqoni outside her family's tent in Deir Al Balah. Rakan Abed El Rahman for The National

Rama Al Baraqoni and her family fled their home in Gaza city on October 13 - her 10th birthday.

"It was meant to be the best day of my life but it ended up being the worst. We left our house, we left our things, my toys, and we left our house terrified."

The family wouldn't risk taking anything with them when they fled to their aunt's house in Hamad Town in Khan Younis - a residential area Israeli soldiers entered in mid-March, demolishing large areas of buildings.

They stayed in Hamad Town for three months but set off again once bombing in the area intensified and residents were ordered to leave. They moved to the industrial area of Khan Younis, where other displaced Palestinians sought shelter, but only stayed for a day as Israeli ground forces, including tanks, neared.

The family, including her parents, two sisters and a brother, now live in a tent in Deir Al Balah near Al Aqsa Martyrs Hospital. The tent has three other families - 20 people in total.

A typical day for Rama is spent helping her mother, collecting food from the tikieh or filling up their water canister.

"We queue at the tikieh and fight with other people in the sun. Before, we used to play but instead of playing now we queue for food or get water from the hospital. We're really tired."

She says she misses foods such as msakhan - Palestine's national dish of roast chicken with sumac atop a bed of onions slowly cooked in olive oil and layered on top of flat bread - shawarma, burgers, pizza, chicken and meat.

"We really miss these foods ... I haven't had fruits in six months," Rama says.

"All the food available now is canned. Everyday we get sick.

"Previously, we would eat eggs, milk, honey, chicken, everything. Those are nutritious foods but now there is nothing available."

Rama says she has lost about 10kg since the start of the war.

Her grandfather is one of the estimated 300,000 Palestinians still stuck in Gaza city.

"Yesterday, I spoke to him and he said they don’t have food," Rama says. "They eat bread for iftar and they don’t have anything [else] to eat. Flour is expensive and, because he is in Gaza city, it’s really difficult for him to come here. He is worried about us and misses us a lot. He wants to be with us."

His home was destroyed and her uncle's house burnt down in the shelling.

"Before they were burnt, people robbed them; they stole their pots, their spoons, kitchenware, my bedroom, my toys and my clothes," says the Year Five pupil.

Two of her aunts were killed in Israeli air strikes, leaving behind their children in Gaza city. Rama's teacher was also killed.

She says she doesn't know where some of her friends are now.

"Half of them have died and I miss them a lot. We used to play together at school and have fun but now there’s nothing to have fun with - no friends and no toys to play with."