Food is finally available in Gaza, but many families can’t afford it

Nagham Zbeedat reports in Haaretz on 8 September 2026:

About six weeks ago, 25-year-old Adham went to a neighborhood shop in Gaza City to buy food and basic household supplies. When the bill exceeded 150 shekels, he began removing items from his basket: tomatoes, chicken and deodorant.  Adham – a pseudonym used at his request over concerns for his safety – is one of the providers for a household of 12. Although food has become more available in Gaza’s markets in recent months, his family continues to limit itself to one main meal a day.  “The rest of the day goes by on coffee and tea, and sometimes dry bread,” he says.

Food has largely returned to markets and store shelves in Gaza, and prices have decreased from wartime highs, yet families in the Strip tell Haaretz they still cannot afford to eat. Destroyed livelihoods, depleted savings and accumulated debt have nevertheless left many unable to buy what is displayed and, for the first time in two years, available.  A recent analysis by the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification – a tool used by the United Nations, governments and aid organizations to measure the severity of malnutrition and hunger on a scale of one to five – notes that over 1.2 million people, totaling 59 percent of Gaza’s population, faced level-three crisis food insecurity or higher from mid-April through the end of June.

The IPC warns that the worst is yet to come. More than 1.4 million people – 67 percent of Gaza’s population – are projected to face crisis levels of acute food insecurity or worse through the end of 2026, according to the report. The IPC says low purchasing power, high costs and unpredictable commercial access continue to restrict access to essential goods.

UNICEF monitoring in late June found cereals, legumes and fresh produce were widely available in the markets its teams could reach, with several prices declining during the month. Yet 72 percent of 403 cash-assistance recipients surveyed by UNICEF depended on the assistance as their main source of income or support. Many also relied on going into debt, free meals from charity kitchens and relatives.

The distribution of cooked meals offered by aid organizations are declining, according to the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, which found that 698,000 meals were served by 102 kitchens in July, compared to 1.5 million meals from 165 kitchens in mid-March.

Ahmed Abu Qamar, an economic analyst based in Gaza, told The Independent’s Arabic edition ⁠earlier this month that the crisis extends beyond record unemployment: Business owners and small investors who once generated jobs have themselves become recipients of food parcels and emergency assistance.

Citing declines of 99 percent in construction output and 94 percent in industry, Abu Qamar described “a complete structural collapse” that has erased much of Gaza’s productive middle class. Former asset owners have become consumers without purchasing power, he told The Independent, leaving the economy centered on securing enough food for each day.

‘We all lend and borrow’
Adham lives in the Al-Nasr neighborhood of western Gaza City with his parents, four younger siblings, his older sister, her husband and their three children. Before the war, he studied graphic design and worked at a restaurant. He completed his degree during the war and now finds freelance assignments online, earning, he says, around $500 in a good month and less than $50 in others.

Unreliable electricity and internet access restrict the work he can accept. Some clients are reluctant to transfer money directly into Palestinian bank accounts, forcing payments through friends abroad and reducing his earnings through repeated commissions.

Before the war, the family’s total income reached about 6,000 shekels ($1,992) a month, including his father’s 3,000-shekel ($996) salary from the Palestinian Authority. As with PA-funded jobs in the West Bank, his father’s payments are now partial and irregular. The household may earn 2,000 shekels in a good month, followed by four or five months below 1,000, Adham says.

His brother-in-law works at a bakery associated with a charity kitchen. His wage generally covers milk and diapers for his eight-month-old daughter, and he sometimes brings home bread or available meals. The family prioritizes securing rice and lentils over eggs and meat. “Hand soap has become a luxury,” Adham says. “One bottle of shampoo has to be enough.”

Debt bridges the gaps. “We all lend to and borrow from one another,” he says, “because you may have something today, but tomorrow you do not know who you will need.”

Inconsistent salaries
Kareem – also a pseudonym – is 23 and works as a field coordinator for Irtiqaa, a nonprofit. His salary is approximately 3,147 shekels ($1,045) when paid, but he says he has received nothing over the past three months.  Kareem supports his mother, brother and sister in the family’s apartment in the Gaza City neighborhood of Tel al-Hawa. They returned after two years to find it burned, damaged and looted; his father was evacuated to Egypt for medical treatment.

Although the family owns the apartment, Kareem says water and electricity cost between 1,400 and 1,500 shekels ($465–$498) a month. Their refrigerator operates for no more than one or two hours a day, preventing them from storing perishable food. “You buy exactly what you need,” he says. “Then, if you need more, you buy again.”

The household spends around 800 shekels ($265) a week on food. When Kareem’s salary arrives, half or more can immediately go toward debts, utilities, transportation and money owed to the neighborhood grocery store. He recently sold his laptop to pay utility bills and grocery debts, then sold his iPad to cover outstanding university-related fees for his sister.

The family received one aid parcel containing food and cleaning supplies, but collecting it from Deir al-Balah cost 60 shekels ($20) in transportation. “I am not saying the parcel does not help,” Kareem says. “But for me, it was not really assistance.”

At the time of his interview, Kareem had 20 shekels ($6.65) left. Five were needed for transportation. With the remainder, he hoped to buy some minced meat, possibly after borrowing another five or 10 shekels. Otherwise, he says, he might postpone eating until the following morning.

“When did we reach a point where, just to eat lunch, I have to check how much money I have, borrow, delay the meal or sometimes go without it? Before the war, money was not a concern,” he says. “Now I work, and it is still not enough.”

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