This Is The Human Face Of Acute Food Insecurity In Gaza

Food & Drink

“I am writing this to you with tears in my eyes,” says Islam Maher Abu Sakran, his WhatsApp message punctuated by two broken heart emojis.

“Animals have a better life than ours.”

Seven members of Islam’s family of 15— among them, 3 women and 6 children— share a makeshift tent in southern Gaza. Insects crawl all over the sandy floor. There is no privacy. Winter nights are freezing, and fires are impossible to light inside the flammable nylon edifice. When it rains, water enters from all directions and floods soak their meager belongings, leaving them with nowhere dry to sleep.

Since October 7th 2023— following a Hamas-led attack on southern Israel which killed around 1,200 people and took around 250 hostages— Gaza has faced unrelenting Israeli bombardment. Entire neighborhoods have been flattened, and the death toll is approaching 46,000 people, most of them women and children.

Like more than 90% of Gaza’s population of more than 2.3 million people, Islam’s family has been displaced multiple times. Currently residing in the Deir al-Balah governorate, the twenty-year old lost his brother— a father of two young children— on the second day of the war. Two days later, his home was destroyed.

And while the camp in which his family resides has been designated as safe, the reality is, there is no such thing as safety in Gaza.

As I write this, Israeli airstrikes have killed 21 around Deir al-Balah. Within the past 24-hours— according to Gaza’s Health Ministry— more than 59 people have been killed by strikes in the area and more than 270 have been injured. For those who survive, the war wages on in an insidious and torturous form: hunger.

Islam’s last message to me was over a day ago. His phone’s battery life is a daily gamble, as he must scrape together money to charge it through a solar charger provider. Each time the single checkmark of an undelivered message appears on WhatsApp, my heart stops.

Long-awaited messages from Islam are more than technical failures; they are a reminder of a community that has been stripped of its ability to function— to survive. Scarcity of food and clean water have become merciless tormentors, and the numbers tell a story that words cannot fully convey.

Projections by the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC) suggest that in the Deir al Balah and Khan Younis Governorates where Islam lives, nearly 50,000 people could be struggling with “Global Acute Malnutrition,” by April 2025, and “under a reasonable worst-case scenario, a risk of Famine exists for the whole of the Gaza Strip” during the same period.

Recent water quality monitoring has uncovered alarming levels of microbiological contamination, and a UN mission to displacement sites in Gaza City reports dire conditions in water, sanitation, and hygiene. With fresh water costing more than $3 per liter, Islam’s family has resorted to taking the risk of drinking contaminated water. Daily life has become a constant battle for survival and a story of food and water insecurity in its cruelest form.

Islam’s days begin before dawn. He and his brothers, ages 26 and 30, wake early and gather buckets and jerry cans to fetch water— if they are lucky enough to find any. Water is only available for 30 minutes a day.

After securing what little they can, the brothers make their way to the tekia, a community kitchen that distributes free food to displaced families.

On “good days,” his family eats one full meal. On bad days, the food runs out before they get their turn.

“Distribution starts at noon, but you have to be there by 9 or 10 in the morning to get a turn and we return after 4,” Islam explains. “Sometimes we return with food; sometimes we don’t. If we don’t, we go to bed hungry. We sleep and wake up every day like this. Just for water and food.”

When food does make it back to their tent, it is shared sparingly among the seven family members. Most of the time, the meal is a mix of lentils, rice, or beans.

Meat, once a staple, has been absent from their diet for over six months.

“There is not a single piece of meat in all of Gaza,” Islam shares. “We’ve almost forgotten its taste.”

As Islam’s mother waits for her sons to return with food, she makes bread over a fire. With a kilogram of flour costing 800 shekels or $220, bread does not come cheap. It is an enormous cost for a family that has lost everything. But Islam knows all too well that things could be worse.

In fact, he remembers the worst days vividly.

In July 2024, as humanitarian assistance in Gaza dwindled to its lowest levels since the war began, desperation gripped the region. In the area where Islam lives, aid was reaching only 25-45% of the population and food shipments into southern Gaza covered only 15-20% of the caloric needs of the population. At the time, the crisis was classified as “Emergency” (IPC Phase 4)— just one level short of an outright famine.

For Islam, it meant 11 days without food.

“We gave whatever food we had to the children,” he recalls. “We, the young men, didn’t eat at all. Even the small amount for the children wasn’t enough. For my family, the situation became tragic. We couldn’t walk or move. I had to eat grass from the ground just to quiet my hunger. We thought it was the end— that we would die of hunger.”

In a state of unimaginable desperation, Islam and his family would also turn to water, gulping it in desperate attempts to fill their stomachs. The days blurred together, a relentless cycle of starvation and despair.

When aid finally arrived, it came in the form of a single hot meal— a simple dish of beans. For Islam, it was a miracle. “It was the most delicious food I’ve ever eaten in my life,” he recalls. But that fleeting relief couldn’t erase the scars of those 11 days— scars that hunger continues to etch into his life.

Islam’s father now struggles with unmedicated high blood pressure and diabetes. His grandmother suffers from chronic asthma and a fractured pelvis. With no access to affordable medical treatment, their conditions worsen.

Risk factors for many health conditions, such as chest infections, digestive issues, and heart failure are compounded under the dual pressure of starvation and cold. At least six children and one adult have died in Gaza during the past week due to hypothermia.

Over the Christmas season, as much of the world marked the birth of Jesus Christ, Islam’s cousin was killed in an airstrike less than 100 kilometers from Bethlehem, the city of Christ’s nativity. His body remains trapped beneath rubble, inaccessible due to the lack of proper tools to clear the debris. Another cousin, killed earlier in the war, was never found, leaving his grieving mother without even the closure of a burial.

“I imagine if I was killed and buried here, leaving behind everything I dreamed of and never achieved,” Islam says, heartbroken.

For now, Islam survives on the resilience of his spirit. He shares photos of his family with me, asking about life in the Cayman Islands, where I live. I tell him about the high price of sugar. He laughs. “One kilogram of sugar in Gaza costs $19.”

As winter rolls on, Gaza slips deeper into despair. Humanitarian aid dwindles, prices soar, and hunger tightens its grip. According to humanitarian reports, 91% of the population in Gaza is expected to face high levels of acute food insecurity classified in IPC Phase 3 (Crisis) or above to April 2025, with 876,000 people facing emergency levels of food insecurity (IPC Phase 4) and 345,000 facing catastrophic levels of food insecurity (IPC Phase 5).

According to the World Food Programme, as of late December 2024, food consumption in Gaza remains alarmingly poor, with most families subsisting on bread and pulses for three months and lacking access to fresh produce, dairy, or meat. Food accessibility is particularly dire in southern and central areas, where 90% of households report insufficient funds to buy scarce market supplies. The energy crisis has compounded the hardship, with gas prices in Deir Al-Balah and Khan Younis having soared by 700%, rendering it unaffordable for basic food preparation.

“I don’t know how the world sees this and remains silent,” Islam says. “We are human beings. I don’t know if the world has lost its humanity.”

There are days I do not hear from Islam. On those days, I wait anxiously, praying for his safety. On those days, I find myself hoping that it is intermittent internet service or the rains keeping him silent.

“I wonder if I get out of here, will I get over this?” he asks. “I feel like something has died inside me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get over this.”

Even amid unimaginable suffering, Islam is filled with the power of hope, and reflects on happier times. Before the war, his family led a comfortable life and his future was full of promise. He was a university student, studying software engineering and was two years into his studies. His favorite hobby was football.

“My dream is to leave Gaza, to finish my education, and to become a web developer,” he shares. The Egyptian border crossing— the only route to freedom— remains closed, and the barriers to a better future seem insurmountable. Yet, Islam’s courageous spirit remains unshaken.

For now, it is the only thing that keeps him going— and for me, it is a reminder that even in the darkest corners of despair, there is great power in humanity.

“Fear is essential here,” Islam reminds me. “The fear of death at any moment… But when we wake up in the morning, it’s a miracle that we’re still alive.”

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