Ramadan in Gaza
Since 2014, Ramadan in Gaza has repeatedly arrived under the shadow of war. From Israel’s attack in 2014, to the escalation in 2021, and the ongoing genocide that has cast its shadow over the holy months of 2024, 2025, and 2026, for more than a quarter of the past decade the sacred month has been marked by fear rather than peace.
For many families in Gaza, Ramadan is no longer defined by the call to prayer or the gathering around iftar tables, but by displacement, scarcity, and uncertainty. Parents struggle to secure basic meals. Neighborhoods once lively with communal spirit are reduced to rubble.
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Intesar Shallah, 40, a mother of five, lived in her own apartment in Shejaiya before the genocide. “I never worried about how I was going to feed my children. My happiest moment in Ramadan was when my family gathered to eat the Qatayif I made.”
Intesar spent Ramadan 2024 in her brother-in-law’s apartment in northern Gaza. A kilogram of flour cost $70. “There was no joy, no suhoor, nothing that reminded us of Ramadan.” She cooked on firewood. “Cooking gas was nonexistent in the whole northern Gaza.”
In July 2024, Intesar obeyed Israel’s orders to flee to the South with her family. “Food was available but what was the joy in eating while living in a small tent in a school’s backyard?”
When Ramadan 2025 arrived, Intesar was still displaced in Deir Al-Ballah, but there was some hope as that was the first Ramadan after the genocide. However, on March 2, Israel blocked food from entering the Strip. “Even if we found wood to cook on, we had almost nothing to cook. We couldn’t visit anyone, and no one could visit us. Special dishes, visiting family, going to the mosque—all Ramadan rituals disappeared.”
In Ramadan 2026, Intesar knew that Israel would act to quash Palestinian joy. And with Israel’s attacks on Iran, food prices increased. “Even basic vegetables and meat were unaffordable. There was no electricity, so we skipped suhoor. Nights were silent, not festive. I prayed quietly in my tent, as the mosque was unreachable. Ramadan used to be a time of joy, family, and faith. Now, it is just survival.”
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Kareem Hassan Al-Tana, 24, whose parents had passed away during the genocide, struggled to secure food for his three-member family. “I hold a bachelor’s degree in accounting, but couldn’t find a job opportunity, as the genocide destroyed the economic system,” Kareem said.
“Before the genocide, Ramadan was a month of ease. The electricity outages were part of life in Gaza back then, but many homes relied on small solar panels.” Streets would light up after sunset in al-Shati refugee camp, where Kareem lived. “My mother used to exchange plates of Qatayif with my neighbors, and I used to rush to the mosque for Al-Taraweeh prayers. Markets were open and everything was available.” Ramadan in 2024 was different. “I was displaced in Al-Zawaida in harsh conditions. I was jobless and food prices were extremely high. Since October 7, 2023, heavy bombardments had never stopped.”
Ramadan 2025 was better for Kareem because he returned to his home in northern Gaza. However, food was available for only two days, as Israel closed the borders on 2 March. As Israel violated the ceasefire on March 18, famine, suffering, and fear returned.
“The bombing has not stopped. The situation is somewhat better this Ramadan, but at any moment, everything could collapse.”
Kareem believes that Israel deliberately targets Gaza during Ramadan to destroy the joy and peace of the sacred month.
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Ahmed Obeid, 25, married with two daughters, has been unemployed since the beginning of the genocide. “I hold a degree in business administration and used to run a hardware and construction supplies shop, but Israel bombed my shop.”
During Ramadan 2024, Ahmed was displaced with his family in Al-Zawaida. “Nothing could bring me joy that Ramadan.”
In Ramadan 2025, he felt as if life had returned. “I was in my city and among my friends and relatives.” But on the third day of Ramadan 2025, Israel closed the borders, preventing food from entering the city.
In Ramadan 2026, food prices skyrocketed. “A week before Ramadan, vegetables and meat were cheap, but as the holy month approached, prices increased.”
“I believe Israel deliberately attacks Gaza during our holy month to make it unbearable. They tighten in the blockade, close the borders, restrict goods, and drive up the prices of essential items like eggs and meat.”
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Abdulkareem Hijab, 38, a father of seven, lost his home and evacuated from Bureij refugee camp to a tent in Deir Al-Ballah at the beginning of the genocide.
His salary as a security guard for the Palestinian Authority could not provide food for his family during Ramadan 2024. “Food was scarce and prices were unimaginably high. Cooking gas was unavailable and firewood was expensive.”
Ramadan 2025 was even worse. Once Israel closed the borders, Abdulkareem couldn’t afford food for his children. He risked death to collect food aid for his family.
“Since 2014, Ramadan changed from being a time of spiritual reflection and family togetherness, to a time of fear, death, and hunger.”
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Um Mohammed, a 43-year-old mother from Shati refugee camp has spent the last two Ramadans in displacement.
“Before the genocide, everything was affordable,” Um Mohammed said. “I used to prepare the food and gather with my family in one feast every day in Ramadan.” Her oven was a source of happiness.
After iftar Um Mohammed would go to the mosque to perform Al-Taraawih prayers. “I prepared dessert after midnight. We stayed awake until dawn.”
Ramadan 2024 was the first Ramadan in displacement for Um Mohammed. “In Ramadan 2024, I was displaced in a tent in Deir Al-Ballah with my sister and children. Cooking on fire was exhausting, and firewood was expensive.”
In Ramadan 2025, Israel closed the borders on March 2. “That Ramadan we did not even have food to cook.” This Ramadan, food entered Gaza after a four-month famine. But, on launching its war on Iran, Israel closed the borders of Gaza. “Food prices doubled and meat and chicken disappeared. If the war is in Iran, why should we have to starve?”
Khaled Al-Qershali is a writer and journalist from Gaza.
