we are not numbers
emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights
For Israel, the food airdrop is not a humanitarian consideration. It is a means of control and humiliation.
Aid being dropped over Deir Al-Balah. Photo: Mahmood Sbaih
In one of the refugee camps in Deir Al-Balah, in the heart of the Gaza Strip, I find myself struggling to survive a humanitarian catastrophe. We are a family of eight and, until very recently, I had never truly believed we could starve to death. But when I overheard my mother telling my father that we had only two kilos of wheat left, something inside me shifted. I asked myself: What can I offer? What can I do to overcome this sense of powerlessness?
On August 4, 2025, I decided to go with my neighbors to one of these chaotic air-dropped aid sites, about 500 meters from our camp, hoping to get a food package for my family. When I went to ask my parents for permission, they warned me not to go because they know how dangerous it is.
On the ground, these airdrops spark scenes of chaos, desperation, and danger. With no organized system for distribution, people risk injury and even death just to claim a small food package. To make matters worse, most packages are not canned goods or nonperishables, but ready-to-eat meals. Many of them arrive spoiled due to the long delays between preparation and delivery. After all the risk and suffering, people often find that the food they have fought to reach is inedible.
But I felt I had to do something, so I ignored their advice and went to the drop site anyway.
People walking to collect aid. Photo: Mahmood Sbaih
My neighbors and I left at noon, planning to arrive early to have a better chance of getting a food package. But while we were on our way, the cargo plane arrived earlier than expected. We saw the parachutes falling slowly and ran after them as fast as we could. We reached the drop site just one minute after the parachutes hit the ground.
I was shocked by what I saw. It looked like a battlefield scene from an epic war movie. People were yelling, brandishing knives, pushing, and shoving around the aid boxes.
Just two minutes later, it was all gone. Nothing left but the echo of voices and the dust rising from beneath our feet. Most were deprived of their share. I was one of them.
People were complaining to each other, some cursing in frustration, while others remained silent and walked back home angry, ashamed, and disappointed like me.
On my way back to the tent, I kept talking to myself. Should I be like them? Should I go crazy and turn on people just to get a food package that barely lasts a day or two? I tried to find a logical answer, but I couldn’t.
Then I told myself, take it easy, man. No one is expecting you to bring anything. Just pretend like it never happened.
But a thought kept flashing in my mind again and again—people trampling each other, shouting, clawing their way toward pieces of bread. I was reminded of a line from one of my favorite movies, Shutter Island. “Which would be worse, to live as a monster or to die as a good man?”
These are the questions that keep me awake at night. What makes people act this wildly? Are they a bunch of savages, uncivilized people, creating this chaos on purpose? No. Absolutely not.
What I witnessed is not savagery. It is survival. It is a hunger that turns into desperation, and a desperation that turns into human instinct. All compounded by the brutal reality that the air-dropped aid isn’t nearly enough to feed even half of those who gather at the site.
When people haven’t eaten properly in weeks, when parents watch their children cry themselves to sleep with empty stomachs, something breaks inside. In these moments, only one thing matters: How can I provide for my family? How can I stop them from starving or getting sick from malnutrition?
These are not violent people. They are starving people.
The end to this humiliation begins with ending this method of delivering aid. Why is Israel approving this air-drop approach while blocking other, safer, more effective methods? Why not allow aid to enter through the usual land crossings, using trucks? It is a method far more efficient and humane.
If air delivery must continue, why can’t they use cargo helicopters to drop large containers of aid and hand them directly to trusted international organizations like UNRWA or the World Food Program? These organizations are more than capable of organizing fair and safe distribution of aid for the people of Gaza.
Israel’s decision to allow airdrops may seem like an act of mercy from the sky. But, in fact, it is a deceptive political maneuver to escape responsibility for the grave crime of starving Gaza’s civilians.
As the famine’s death toll rises, including many children, Israel is facing widespread international condemnation and protest against its policy of deliberate starvation of the people of Gaza.
But it is not enough. In my opinion, the whole world holds responsibility and must act now to provide humanitarian aid through appropriate and safe delivery methods. People must stand together in the name of humanity and mercy to end starvation in Gaza.
I have already lost my home, relatives and friends as a result of this war. But my dignity is not something I am willing to lose.
