The woman picked through the dumpster with practiced determination, her children watching nearby as she separated discarded vegetable scraps from inedible waste. This scene, once unimaginable in Gaza’s middle-class neighborhoods, has become routine amid what international aid workers now describe as a full-blown hunger catastrophe.
“We were shopkeepers before the war,” Umm Mohammed told me last week during my reporting in northern Gaza. The 38-year-old mother of four requested I use only her honorific to protect her family’s dignity. “Now we wait for the garbage trucks to come so we can find anything to eat.”
The family’s desperate scavenging represents the new normal for countless Gazans as the Israel-Hamas war enters its sixth month. The UN World Food Programme has documented “catastrophic” hunger conditions, with over 90% of Gaza’s 2.3 million residents facing acute food insecurity. For northern Gaza, where aid deliveries have been most restricted, the situation verges on famine.
What’s particularly striking is how quickly middle-class families have descended into destitution. Umm Mohammed’s husband owned a small grocery before an airstrike destroyed it in December. Their savings lasted barely two months. Now her children sometimes go days eating only what they can salvage from others’ trash.
“My youngest has lost so much weight the doctor couldn’t find a vein to draw blood,” she said, her voice steady but eyes betraying exhaustion. The five-year-old, once chubby-cheeked, now has the hallmark distended belly of malnutrition.
The hunger crisis has escalated dramatically since February, when UN officials began warning that famine conditions were imminent. By early March, at least 20 people—mostly children—had died from malnutrition and dehydration at northern Gaza hospitals, according to Gaza’s Health Ministry. The actual number is likely higher, as many deaths go unrecorded.
Dr. Adnan al-Bursh, a pediatrician at Al-Awda Hospital in northern Gaza, described treating children whose bodies are consuming their own muscle tissue for survival. “We’re seeing kwashiorkor cases daily now,” he explained, referring to the severe protein malnutrition condition rarely seen outside of famine zones. “Children arrive with edema, skin lesions, and immune systems too weak to fight basic infections.”
The current crisis stems from a perfect storm of disaster: damaged infrastructure, limited humanitarian access, destroyed agricultural capacity, and collapsing markets. Before October 7, Gaza imported 500 trucks of food and supplies daily. That number has dropped to an average of 95 trucks in recent weeks, according to UNRWA figures—less than 20% of pre-war levels.
Aid agencies report systematic challenges getting food to those who need it most. “It’s not just about the quantity of aid entering,” explained Marco Salzano, who coordinates food security programs for an international NGO in Gaza. “It’s about distribution networks, cooking fuel, functioning kitchens, and safe access for families—none of which exist reliably anymore.”
The economics of hunger have created predatory black markets. A 50kg sack of flour that cost $15 before the war now sells for $150 when available. Cooking gas costs ten times its pre-war price. For families like Umm Mohammed’s, with no income and depleted savings, such prices make purchased food impossible.
“We sold my wedding gold months ago,” she told me, pulling back her sleeve to show a thin wrist where bangles once sat. “Now there is nothing left to sell.”
The situation is particularly dire for the estimated 1.7 million internally displaced Gazans. In makeshift camps near Khan Younis, I met Ibrahim al-Najjar, a 61-year-old former agricultural engineer. “We’ve been displaced four times,” he said, gesturing toward the tent sheltering eleven family members. “Each time we leave behind what little food we had gathered.”
Al-Najjar described how families in the camp share cooking duties to conserve fuel, preparing thin broths from foraged herbs and the occasional aid packet. “When the children cry from hunger, we boil water with salt and tell them it’s soup,” he said.
Israel’s military says it has taken steps to increase humanitarian aid, pointing to the opening of additional crossing points and escort corridors. Military spokesman Lt. Col. Nadav Shoshani stated that “hundreds of trucks are permitted entry daily,” though UN figures consistently show actual deliveries fall well below stated capacity.
Palestinian officials and humanitarian workers counter that military operations regularly disrupt aid distribution. “You cannot deliver food when active fighting blocks roads and endangers workers,” explained Claire Sanford of the World Food Programme, who described how scheduled deliveries were canceled three times last week due to security incidents.
The consequences extend beyond immediate hunger. Medical professionals warn of long-term developmental damage to Gaza’s children. UNICEF estimates over 155,000 children under five now face acute malnutrition, with potential lifelong effects on physical and cognitive development.
“Even if the war ended tomorrow, we’re looking at a generation permanently marked by this hunger,” said Dr. Taysir Al-Shurafa, who treats malnourished children at Al-Shifa Hospital’s remaining pediatric unit. “Brain development, immune function, growth potential—all compromised.”
For families like Umm Mohammed’s, such long-term concerns pale against the daily struggle to find anything edible. As evening approached during our interview, her oldest son returned clutching half a rotting cabbage found near a distribution center.
“Tomorrow we will try again,” she said, carefully separating still-usable outer leaves from the decayed core. “What choice do we have?”
