A Suhoor meal of fried tomatoes, cheese, pickles, and strawberry jam. Photo: Khaled Al-Qershali

On March 10, 2024, the Palestinian Mufti, the official expounder of Islamic law, announced the beginning of the holy month of Ramadan. It was the 157th day of the war.

Last year, instead of being happy at the start of Ramadan, everyone was afraid. My family, along with the other families we were living with in the same tent, prepared our mattresses to sleep.

Because I had been to the market, which is more than a kilometer away, and carried about 12 gallons of water like I do every day, I fell asleep exhausted.

A tent that sheltered the family in displacement. Photo: Khaled Al-Qershali

“Wake up! It is 8 a.m., and you have not gone to the market,” my mother said in the morning. We were living in a school which had been turned into a shelter for displaced people. The women slept inside a classroom and the men slept in the tent we built in the street.

I woke up hungry, as I did not eat anything at Suhoor because the food was in the women’s area.

The weather during Ramadan in the war was not different from the weather these days. While going to the market in the morning, the heat made us thirsty, and at night, the cold prevented us from sleeping.

I returned from the market at 12:30 p.m. with a kilogram of jute mallow. It is a Palestinian tradition to cook jute mallow on the first day of Ramadan.

Before the war, my father used to buy 3 kilograms of jute mallow for the first day of Ramadan, for $5.

One kilogram of jute mallow cost me $10. No one in the tent was surprised!

I was upset that after more than two hours of walking, I did not find chicken to cook with the jute mallow. However, my mother was happy l had managed to find jute mallow and she understood that it had been impossible for me to obtain chicken because of the blockade of goods coming into Gaza.

Although I was tired, I had another mission to accomplish, which was filling the water. It was not hard to find the water, but it was hard to fill it.

I had to stand in a queue waiting to fill my gallons. Each gallon was filled with 24 liters of water. My brother, Omar, and I had to carry the gallons back to the tent.

We have to do this three times a day, sometimes more.

We finished filling the water around 3 p.m. Omar left to play with his friends. I was trying to complete my study online during that time, but fasting made me tired. I was not thinking of anything except food.

While sitting to rest, I remembered katayef, a dessert Arabs prepare for Ramadan. I told my parents that I wanted to search for katayef‘s ingredients in the market.

”If you find it, it will be very expensive. We have to save the money to provide the basic needs,” my mother said. I was saving some money as there was nothing to buy, so I decided not to listen to my mom.

My friend Nafez accompanied me to the market. We spent more than an hour walking till we found someone selling the ingredients.

Katayef requires dough, sugar, nuts, dates, and cream, if available. These are the ingredients, but I was only able to find dates at a reasonable price. I had to buy the dough at an expensive price, $1 for 100 grams, because it is the main ingredient. Sugar is also a main ingredient but we had some in the tent.

I returned to the tent, gave the katayef ingredients to my mother, and sat to read the holy Qur’an while waiting for the muezzin’s call.

As our tent contained other families than us, we could not eat together as one family. While my sister was coming to put out the food, I asked her, “Where is mom? Why is not she coming?”

“Mom and I will eat with the rest of the women inside, and you will eat here,” my sister replied. This is another way in which war tears families apart.

None of us enjoyed the food, as we were not together as one family.

We ate as if we were blind because there were no lights. Our phones also were not charged, so even our flashlights couldn’t turn on.

As the weather turned cold, we prepared our mattresses to sleep. We were 14 adult males sleeping on eight mattresses. None of us had the chance to sleep alone on one mattress. Every three people had two mattresses and some people had to sleep as four on two mattresses.

Although the situation was miserable, it was better from the first days in the tent, as everyone now at least had one blanket. During the winter, I was sleeping next to my friend, Mohammed Al-Ghozz. I made a deal with Mohammed to put the two blankets on top of both of us so we would be warmer.

Another tent the family occupied during displacement. Photo: Khaled Al-Qershali

Before the war, I used to go to pray Isha prayer and then Taraweeh prayers in the mosque. It was around midnight when I used to enter the house, and everyone was awake.

It was my habit before the war, to prepare a cup of coffee to drink while eating katayef after praying. Before the war, coffee cost $2 for 250 grams. Now 250 grams costs $25.

My young sister came with a small plate of katayef. There were 10 pieces on the plate, three for my father, three for my brother, and three for me.

They left the tenth piece for me, but I refused to eat it and gave it to my sister to give to mom, as I knew she gave us all of it and refused to eat. It was her habit.

After eating the dessert, I went to sleep as there was nothing else to do. I woke up at the sound of my father’s voice, telling me to eat a sandwich before the call of Fajr prayer. I was not able to see anything as there were no lights while eating Suhoor. I ate my cheese sandwich and drank water, then I slept. Ramadan during the war is boring.

In January 2025 a ceasefire was agreed but our life during this year’s Ramadan has not changed much. Once the road was open, we were able to travel home — but our home is not suitable for living in, so my father has rented two small rooms. Finally, we are able to live alone as one family.

The most notable change since last year is that we can gather together as one family when eating Suhoor and Iftar, but Ramadan under conditions of war remains boring.

Before, Ramadan was a month full of adventures. I barely sat at home during Ramadan. I used to spend many hours in the mosque or meeting my friends to go to markets together. The first week especially is well known to be the week of invitations.

One day we would eat Iftar with my paternal grandfather, the next day my maternal grandfather would invite us. On other days my uncles and friends invited us.

Now, food, water, and electricity, the basics of life, are still missing and the feeling of being able to enter the mosque to pray without fear of being bombed is a feeling I have missed for more than 500 days.