Opinion
This opinion piece was first published in The Standard , 14 August 2025
A friend gave me a mango the other day. In starving Gaza, this is the ultimate act of selflessness. I took the piece of fruit home to share it with my four children.
My children used to have bigger dreams than having a nutritious meal, but this is what months of a near-total siege have done to childhood in Gaza. The question repeats again and again: “Mama, what are we going to eat today?” I usually provide the same answer, sometimes with a little tweak - an addition of some lentils or substituting the rice.
So many children in Gaza today don’t know what apples and bananas look like, let alone how they taste. In fact, they are not familiar with many options beyond bread and beans. This deprivation has led to fatal malnourishment which continues to claim Palestinians lives, all while the world does little to stop it. What are the long-term effects for children being starved at such a crucial point in their development? I have to push such questions from my mind.
In conflict zones, providing humanitarian aid often means the difference between life and death. It is one of very few ways left for me and my colleagues to maintain a sense of safety and dignity. During past hostilities in Gaza, we were always able to help people.
This time, giving and receiving aid has become a deadly mission for aid workers and vulnerable people alike. Every day at work, we go out to help people like us: families who have been displaced so many times, parents who have lost their loved ones, and children who instead of learning science and maths are learning the difference between the humming of a surveillance UAV and the noise of a combat drone.
A vicious cycle is pushing people close to death even before they are told to go and try to grab a bag of flour many miles away, where they will come face to face with tank fire and live ammunition in a militarised zone.
I once asked a lady why she lets her son go to food distribution points, where people are constantly killed while they are trying to get food. She told me she tried to stop him, but he was too hungry. It made me think that if I didn’t have my job, I’d be amongst those walking for miles knowing I might not make the journey back.
But even those with a job, even aid workers like us, are not spared the hunger and thirst. The markets are either empty or offer basic items at exorbitant prices. One kilogram of rice now costs around £20. This is equivalent to several days’ wages, which many simply don’t have. Things like meat and eggs are nowhere to be found.
My employer, The Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), provides drinking water for tens of thousands of people at displacement sites. While the recommended minimum share per person is 15 litres a day in an emergency, we are only able to supply 6 litres as Israel only allows in a fraction of the fuel needed to run the water treatment plants.
For Palestinians, this means they have to choose between washing or drinking. Every day, I see hundreds of people roaming the streets, empty water containers in hand, waiting for some water truck to show up. Often, the water truck never arrives, and people are forced to drink unsafe water. This is how humanity is stripped away from Palestinians - one sip of water at a time.
While media has rightly focused on the unfolding famine-like conditions in Gaza, it is important to point out that Gaza is being starved of much more than just sustenance. Basic hygiene supplies are also missing. In displacement camps, people are kept awake by the mosquitoes, rats and the spread of lice. Disease is spreading as sewage spills out in densely populated areas. People now wear clothes that are made of material used for curtains. Newborns have nothing to wear.
It is true that some aid has trickled in after international pressure. But it is nothing like the amount that currently sits just outside Gaza, beyond reach for those who need it, and yet a shorter distance away from people than many readers will have travelled to work in London.
Yet Israel says no to most items entering Gaza, including shelter materials. NRC has enough tents waiting to house more than 3,000 families. But until Israel permits them to enter Gaza, those families will continue to spend their days and nights in the open or in overcrowded, improvised shelters.
This is just what everyday life in Gaza is like. In the meantime, people continue to be killed with no space left to bury them, and no time for families to grieve for them. Israel continues to forcibly displace people around Gaza, often at short notice, in a way that makes it impossible for people to bring even essential items with them.
Our children don’t know what normal life is like anymore, and the aftermath will last for generations. But we have a right to live in safety and with dignity. This is why global leaders must act to bring about a permanent ceasefire, allow aid in, and help us to rebuild Gaza.
Gaza is being starved of life: where is the world?
My children used to have bigger dreams than having a nutritious meal, but this is what months of a near-total siege have done to childhood in Gaza. The question repeats again and again: “Mama, what are we going to eat today?” I usually provide the same answer, sometimes with a little tweak - an addition of some lentils or substituting the rice.
So many children in Gaza today don’t know what apples and bananas look like, let alone how they taste. In fact, they are not familiar with many options beyond bread and beans. This deprivation has led to fatal malnourishment which continues to claim Palestinians lives, all while the world does little to stop it. What are the long-term effects for children being starved at such a crucial point in their development? I have to push such questions from my mind.
In conflict zones, providing humanitarian aid often means the difference between life and death. It is one of very few ways left for me and my colleagues to maintain a sense of safety and dignity. During past hostilities in Gaza, we were always able to help people.
This time, giving and receiving aid has become a deadly mission for aid workers and vulnerable people alike. Every day at work, we go out to help people like us: families who have been displaced so many times, parents who have lost their loved ones, and children who instead of learning science and maths are learning the difference between the humming of a surveillance UAV and the noise of a combat drone.
A vicious cycle is pushing people close to death even before they are told to go and try to grab a bag of flour many miles away, where they will come face to face with tank fire and live ammunition in a militarised zone.
I once asked a lady why she lets her son go to food distribution points, where people are constantly killed while they are trying to get food. She told me she tried to stop him, but he was too hungry. It made me think that if I didn’t have my job, I’d be amongst those walking for miles knowing I might not make the journey back.
But even those with a job, even aid workers like us, are not spared the hunger and thirst. The markets are either empty or offer basic items at exorbitant prices. One kilogram of rice now costs around £20. This is equivalent to several days’ wages, which many simply don’t have. Things like meat and eggs are nowhere to be found.
My employer, The Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), provides drinking water for tens of thousands of people at displacement sites. While the recommended minimum share per person is 15 litres a day in an emergency, we are only able to supply 6 litres as Israel only allows in a fraction of the fuel needed to run the water treatment plants.
For Palestinians, this means they have to choose between washing or drinking. Every day, I see hundreds of people roaming the streets, empty water containers in hand, waiting for some water truck to show up. Often, the water truck never arrives, and people are forced to drink unsafe water. This is how humanity is stripped away from Palestinians - one sip of water at a time.
While media has rightly focused on the unfolding famine-like conditions in Gaza, it is important to point out that Gaza is being starved of much more than just sustenance. Basic hygiene supplies are also missing. In displacement camps, people are kept awake by the mosquitoes, rats and the spread of lice. Disease is spreading as sewage spills out in densely populated areas. People now wear clothes that are made of material used for curtains. Newborns have nothing to wear.
It is true that some aid has trickled in after international pressure. But it is nothing like the amount that currently sits just outside Gaza, beyond reach for those who need it, and yet a shorter distance away from people than many readers will have travelled to work in London.
Yet Israel says no to most items entering Gaza, including shelter materials. NRC has enough tents waiting to house more than 3,000 families. But until Israel permits them to enter Gaza, those families will continue to spend their days and nights in the open or in overcrowded, improvised shelters.
This is just what everyday life in Gaza is like. In the meantime, people continue to be killed with no space left to bury them, and no time for families to grieve for them. Israel continues to forcibly displace people around Gaza, often at short notice, in a way that makes it impossible for people to bring even essential items with them.
Our children don’t know what normal life is like anymore, and the aftermath will last for generations. But we have a right to live in safety and with dignity. This is why global leaders must act to bring about a permanent ceasefire, allow aid in, and help us to rebuild Gaza.
Gaza is being starved of life: where is the world?