we are not numbers
emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights
Restrictions on tobacco imports are forcing smokers to make hard choices and suffer from nicotine withdrawal.
A crowded street filled with the cigarette stalls in Deir Al-Balah. Photo: Eman Eid
Before the war, smoking was a common habit and cigarettes were cheap and easy to buy from any nearby shop. Addiction was not seen as a major issue. People smoked mainly to escape the daily stress of living in a large open-air prison, if even for a few moments.
Midway through the genocide, Israel banned the entrance of cigarettes. This intensified the suffering, pushing Gazans into conflicts and disputes among themselves while distracting them from the main issue.
Tobacco products steadily and gradually disappeared from our markets. Some traders tried to smuggle in small quantities of tobacco across the border by hiding it inside tea cartons, but this was not enough to meet demand and it was quickly stopped by Israel.
With the ceasefire, cigarettes become more available, but given the increasing restrictions on the entry of tobacco, prices rose sharply from day to day. A pack of Marlboros that once cost 20 shekels (about $5) became 1,000 shekels ($270). For those who could not afford a full pack, a single cigarette was sometimes sold for 30–50 shekels ($8–14). Prices were no longer tied to a set price list or a stable market, but rather to scarcity — what was available at any given moment in the local market.
Over time, cigarettes transformed from a commonly used commodity into something of a rare item. People found themselves forced to choose between buying cigarettes or securing essential needs such as food. This created its own stressor, becoming a painful conflict between seeking temporary mental relief and providing for one’s families’ basic needs.
For people addicted to nicotine, the shortage also created an additional kind of suffering. Forced withdrawal added to the already high stress levels in the family. In high-stress environments like this, even the smallest situations became sources of major conflict.
As cigarettes became increasingly scarce, many people in Gaza resorted to improvised substitutes to satisfy their nicotine cravings. Some dried and smoked tea leaves, while others turned to herbs such as sage, thyme, and even dried molokhia (a garlicky type leaf).
Molokhia leaves were once a common and affordable staple in Gaza’s kitchens, traditionally prepared at least once a week in many households. They were widely accessible, costing no more than around 10 shekels ($2-3) per kilogram. Today, however, these same leaves have become part of an improvised smoking mixture, and their availability as a food product in local markets has sharply declined. The price has surged dramatically, reaching as high as 100 shekels ($25) per kilogram.
“We used to sell molokhia for food, and sometimes it would even spoil before being sold, but now it’s all used for smoking,” said Abu Yousif, a grocery store owner in Al-Nuseirat.
A stall sells molokhia leaves used as tobacco substitutes inside hand-rolled cigarettes. Photo: Eman Eid
Commercial and hand-rolled cigarettes undergo manufacturing processes involving precise tobacco treatment and the use of filters and specific types of papers. Furthermore, quality control standards ensure a product with consistent characteristics. Regardless of where cigarettes are purchased, smokers always expect the same taste, strength, and smoking experience.
However, the shortage of commercially produced cigarettes in Gaza has forced many to rely on hand-rolled alternative products manufactured under vastly different conditions that don’t quite replicate the experience or consistency of the original cigarettes.
These handmade tobacco cigarettes often use loose, locally available materials, and in the absence of specialized paper, even A4 printer paper may be used to wrap the tobacco. Smokers frequently notice differences in flavor, strength, burn rate, and harshness.
Before the war, many parents in Gaza were careful to keep children away from smoking. Some adults avoided smoking in front of children, while others refused to send their sons or daughters to buy cigarettes, fearing they might become familiar with the habit or be influenced by smokers. Children were often encouraged to avoid environments where smoking was common and to stay away from people who might introduce them to the habit.
Today, however, these boundaries have largely faded under the pressure of war and economic hardship. The cigarette trade has drawn children into a world far beyond their age, with some becoming involved in selling cigarettes on the streets to help support their families. Instead of spending their days studying or playing, many now navigate markets, negotiate prices, and witness adult struggles firsthand.
Constant exposure to cigarettes at such a young age may normalize smoking, increasing the likelihood that some children will experiment with it themselves.
