Every Ramadan, a man used to walk down Rawoand Altatar’s street. He played his drum each night. His music woke people for their early meal before dawn. The street glowed with festive lights and decorations.
This year, things are different on Ms. Altatar’s street. The drummer is gone. Darkness has replaced the lights. Buildings around are damaged or destroyed. Ms. Altatar’s own home has suffered damage too.
Ms. Altatar misses the Ramadan spirit. “There’s no feeling of Ramadan,” she says. She longs for family gatherings, the special foods, and the vibrant street decorations. Before the conflict, she was a photographer and worked at a private school.
The war has changed Ramadan in Gaza. What was once a time of joy and community is now marked by destruction and silence.
The ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas has made daily life a struggle. Ramadan’s traditions of fasting, prayer, and charity are overshadowed by hardship.
The war has caused immense loss. Over 30,000 Palestinians have died. The threat of famine grows. Families are scattered, living in crowded shelters. Many mosques, once centers of prayer, are now ruins.
Basic needs are hard to meet. Dates and water, essential for breaking the fast, are scarce. The joy of children playing with Ramadan toys is missing. Fear keeps families indoors.
The situation is dire. The United Nations warns of a looming famine. Malnutrition and dehydration have already claimed the lives of children.
Human rights organizations and international bodies accuse Israel of using starvation as a weapon. Israel maintains it is facilitating aid, but challenges remain in getting supplies into Gaza.
Hunger forces some in Gaza to eat leaves and animal feed. “We’ve been practically fasting for months,” Ms. Altatar shares. Meals are rare and precious.
Aid struggles to reach northern Gaza, where Ms. Altatar lives. Security concerns and restrictions limit support. Traditional Ramadan prayers and readings are now private, held in fear of airstrikes.
Ms. Altatar spends her days searching for food and firewood. She hopes for an aid drop to bring some relief.
Before Ramadan, Israeli planes dropped leaflets in northern Gaza. The message inside was seen as mocking by many.
Despite everything, some in Gaza try to find hope. Maher Habboush, a bodybuilder, shared a video of people cleaning and decorating a neighborhood. “Ramadan is a blessing,” he says, despite the hunger and fear.
Ramadan decorations, once a common sight, are now a luxury few can afford. Families can’t even provide simple joys like a Ramadan lantern for their children.
The war has displaced many. Nisreen Abu Tooq and her family seek refuge in a school. The arrival of Ramadan brings sadness, not joy.
Fadia Nassar wishes to buy lanterns for her family but finds prices too high. She worries about seeming insensitive to others who have lost more.
Markets are full, but the atmosphere is tense. The usual Ramadan cheer is absent. “There is no joy,” says Ms. Nassar.
A local band, Sol Band, released a song reflecting this somber Ramadan. The video shows families making decorations, trying to find joy amid the hardship.
This Ramadan in Gaza is marked by loss and resilience. The community tries to hold onto hope, even as they face unimaginable challenges.