When Israel targeted the main internet hub in the Gaza Strip, we were swallowed by silence and cut off from the world.
The world watches Israel starve and decimate my people with impunity while I’m frightened and hungry.
For the fourth time, the Eid holidays came and went in Gaza without the traditional rituals, feasting, and celebrations.
This basic food staple has undergone the surreal transformation into both lifeline and symbol of a disappearing homeland.
My father’s vegetable plants, grown in plastic containers on a rooftop, are saving us from starvation.
In every home, a mother performs small miracles to hide the taste of pain from her children’s faces.
Firing on hungry people desperately waiting for flour inscribed a shameful chapter in human history.
As border crossings remain closed and Gazans are starved of basic supplies, we forage for whatever we can find to survive.
I saw a hunger not only for food to supply the Iftar meal, but also for safety, for peace, for an end to this nightmare.
Fire. Feed. Eat. Live. / The warmth he seeks / claws at his childhood with / diseases, scars, and burns.
This is the story of one family’s quest to survive war and winter and keep despair at bay — one of many such stories.
My traumatic ordeal in north Gaza is near-universal for the more than 2 million citizens of Gaza.
