Ramadan Under Fire: Gaza’s People Face Hunger, Displacement, and Crackling Uncertainty
Within a makeshift shelter of plastic sheets that form their temporary home, the glow of small lights hints at the start of Ramadan for families in Gaza. Across a landscape of ruined streets, where fewer lanterns drift through the dark, the holy Islamic month has begun for those living in the Gaza Strip. Yet the few pockets of celebration are overshadowed by hunger and ongoing bombardments. At least 27 people have died from starvation or dehydration, with many more thought to be affected. Bombs continue to rain on the besieged enclave, driving the total toll to more than 31,000 lives lost in just over five months of conflict. For many worshippers, going to the remaining mosques is a risk; Israel has damaged roughly 1,000 of the 1,200 mosques in Gaza, turning places of prayer into potential targets.
“Many mosques are attacked, so it is difficult to go and pray knowing they may be struck and the rockets could destroy everything around us; that is why we pray some prayers at home,” said Mahmud Al Qeshui, an English teacher from Rafah, speaking to a news outlet on the first day of Ramadan. Compounding the hardship of breaking the daily fast at sunset is the soaring price of food. In the even more devastated north, aid does not reach many families, and hunger is a suffocating reality. In that region, at least one in six children is malnourished, according to the World Health Organization. The United Nations has warned for weeks that about 80 percent of the world’s people at high risk of starvation live in Gaza. Countless families across the Strip face hunger every day.
There have been no scheduled talks that could halt the fighting in time for the holy month. On the first day of Ramadan, dozens more lives were lost to Israeli attacks, marking 157 days of violence in a row. In recent weeks, mediators from Qatar and Egypt had hoped to secure a ceasefire agreement to mark the start of Ramadan. But the dialogue now appears to have stalled. An Israeli leadership statement claimed there would be no pause in the war without the release of detainees, a stance echoed by various Hamas sources and reported by several outlets. No formal talks were planned in the coming days, and invitations to negotiations had not been extended.
Despite Prime Minister Netanyahu’s assurances that Palestinians would be free to pray at the Al Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem, Israeli police restricted access to the sacred complex on the first night of Ramadan. In the run-up to the holy month, at least 27 Palestinians from East Jerusalem were detained, with police officers clashing with worshippers attempting to reach the old city’s sacred site. Jordan’s Foreign Minister, Ayman Safadi, called these measures a violation of religious freedom and warned they risked pushing the situation toward an explosive outcome. The many stories of fear and resilience unfold against the backdrop of a city and a region that have long lived with conflict and interruption, with people clinging to faith as a source of strength amid bombardment and hunger. These are not simply political headlines; they are the lived experiences of families, students, and communities trying to observe Ramadan while under constant threat. The human toll is measured in quiet moments of prayer interrupted by the sound of distant shells and the ache of empty stomachs, a stark reminder that life continues inside a world of conflict where aid is scarce and every day is a test of endurance. The global community watches and voices concern, but for many in Gaza, the question remains: how long can people persevere before a more hopeful path appears?
In sum, Ramadan in Gaza unfolds as a period of deep spirituality framed by hardship. The stories of people seeking shelter, facing limited food shortages, and navigating restricted access to sacred sites reflect a broader reality: faith can be a quiet anchor in times of crisis—but it cannot erase the immediate needs of those who endure hunger, fear, and the sounds of war just beyond their doors. The international community continues to call for humanitarian corridors, safe passages for civilians, and meaningful steps toward a sustainable ceasefire, while ordinary families cling to the rituals that give them a sense of dignity and continuity during a season defined by patience, mercy, and communal resilience. [citation: United Nations, World Health Organization, Al Jazeera reports]