‘The occupation wants nothing but suffering for us’: Gazans face catastrophic humanitarian crisis
Palestinian children gather to receive food cooked by a charity kitchen during Ramadan, in Khan Younis, in southern Gaza, on 3 March 2025
Mohamed Solaimane reports in The New Arab on 13 March, 2025:
Fatima Al-Saayda’s face flushes red as she stokes the firewood in her clay oven, preparing a modest meal for her family and the families of her two married sons. Smoke fills the air, forcing tears from her eyes, especially as she resorts to burning plastic and cardboard due to the scarcity of firewood.
Exhaustion is etched onto the 53-year-old mother of five and grandmother of five more. She spends hours tending the fire, cooking from mid-afternoon until just before sunset, despite suffering from high blood pressure and respiratory issues. But physical strain is only part of the burden; her mind remains preoccupied with the daily struggle of securing food for both the pre-dawn and evening meals.
Since the first day of Ramadan, Fatima has had no choice but to cook this way. Her cooking gas ran out, and she had been scheduled to receive a refilled gas cylinder on the second day of the holy month. That same day, however, Israel shut down all border crossings with Gaza, a closure that remains in effect.
“I was waiting for my turn, but now there is no gas, not for us or my sons’ families,” she told The New Arab. Like thousands of other Gazans, her family must adhere to government-designated collection dates for cooking gas. Their turn was early in Ramadan. They never got it.
She called to her grandson, asking him to bring more cardboard to keep the fire going. Inside the oven, some flatbreads bake, while a pot of lentil stew simmers atop the clay structure. “Closing the crossings has disrupted every part of our daily lives,” she explained. The cooking gas shortage, she added, “is just the beginning.” The blockade has also emptied Gaza’s markets of essential foods, meat, poultry, fish, and even basic produce.
Fatima describes how the Israeli restrictions have made it nearly impossible to obtain medicine. During the 42-day ceasefire that ended on the first day of Ramadan, she had tried to refill her prescriptions. But after Israel reimposed the blockade, most medicines stopped coming in, leaving both government-run and charitable health organisations unable to help her.
“This is a catastrophe on every level. There are no words to describe it,” she said. “Every day, we suffer. I can’t even find the simplest ingredients to cook. I’m back to feeding my family from canned goods, beans, chickpeas, whatever is left, after months of relying on whatever fresh food was still entering Gaza.” For her, and countless others, the siege is more than just an economic or logistical hardship. It is an assault on the very essence of daily life.
“Closing the crossings means stopping life itself,” she stated. “The occupation knows this. They know exactly what they are doing to us. We are being forced back into a primitive existence, lighting fires for cooking, scrambling to find food, struggling for water.”