Imagine bread being a luxury. From Heba Almaqadma at dropsitenews.com:
“We do not need pity. We need pressure on those who are blocking food, those who remain silent, and those who still have the power to stop this but choose not to.”
The article you are about to read was written by Heba Almaqadma, a 24-year-old Palestinian journalist, translator, and writer living in Gaza City. Heba was born and raised in Gaza, and has remained in Gaza City during the war, despite being displaced from her home on multiple occasions. Her account of the war—and the current wave of starvation overtaking the territory—offers a window into the experiences of ordinary Palestinians struggling to survive amid the escalating genocide in the territory.
—Murtaza Hussain
In Gaza City, on July 30, 2025, a Palestinian woman picks out food scraps amid the rubble. (Photo by Dawoud Abo Alkas/Anadolu via Getty Images).
Story by Heba Almaqadma
GAZA CITY—In Gaza, there’s a popular saying that has been passed down by generations of families, reflecting our resilience in the face of difficult conditions: “No one dies of hunger.” For the longest time, that was true. In the Gaza that we knew, people struggled because of poverty, unemployment, and the other consequences of the occupation, but no one died because they had nothing to eat.
Today, we are witnessing the unthinkable. Hundreds are dying. And the cause? Hunger. Behind the headlines and beyond the numbers, flesh and blood people are cut off from basic necessities, including food, clean water, and medical care. They are facing a slow, quiet, forcibly imposed death.
Starvation is not a looming threat; it is a brutal, daily reality. Children cry themselves to sleep on an empty stomach. Parents break under the weight of helplessness, watching their sons and daughters grow thinner, weaker. Bread, once a basic staple, has become a luxury. Vegetables, milk, eggs have become unimaginable for most families. Hunger has overtaken war as the cruelest weapon.
In recent weeks, thousands of Palestinians have been killed or injured risking their lives to try to find food. My cousin, Yousef Ala’atal, just 14 years old, was among them. Hunger pushed him to seek food from an aid distribution site managed by the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF). He came back not only empty-handed, but with a bullet in his head, blood soaking his body, and lasting damage from the injury. Yousef asked his mother with a pain that a child’s heart cannot endure: “Am I going to stay like this?” After that question, silence overtook their family.
