"Starving in Gaza: My Brother-in-Law Was Killed for Selling Vegetables"

"Starving in Gaza: My Brother-in-Law Was Killed for Selling Vegetables"

On April 27, my brother-in-law Samer was killed when an airstrike hit his vegetable stall in Deir el-Balah, central Gaza. He wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t involved in politics. He was simply a kind, peaceful man trying to earn a living in a place where food has become more precious than gold.

Samer wasn’t a vendor by trade. He was a lawyer who once defended the rights of the vulnerable. But the war forced him to abandon his profession and sell vegetables just to provide for his children.

During the temporary ceasefire, Samer managed to buy produce from local wholesalers. But after the war resumed and the Gaza crossings were closed in March, supplies all but vanished. Still, he held onto a small stock and kept selling, day and night, even as prices soared and customers disappeared. He often offered us vegetables without charge, but I always declined, knowing he needed every bit to support his family.

When I heard Samer had been killed, I froze. I tried to shield my husband from the news, but my tears gave it away. He looked like he wanted to scream—but the scream stayed trapped in his throat. Perhaps even grief had become too heavy for his soul to bear.

Samer left behind three young children and a grieving family. His death came as a shock. He was full of life, always smiling and laughing, even in the darkest of times. I can still picture him standing at his stall, calling to passersby with warmth in his voice.

Samer is one of many food vendors who have been killed in this relentless war. It’s as if selling food has become a crime. Grocers, bakers, shopkeepers, and kitchen workers have all been targeted. Entire food networks—bakeries, farms, markets, and warehouses—have been bombed, as if nourishing people were an act of war.

Just ten days after Samer’s death, a market and restaurant on Gaza City’s al-Wahda Street were bombed, killing at least 33 people. Two weeks earlier, a bakery near Jabaliya was hit. Days before that, a food distribution center in Khan Younis was attacked. According to Gaza’s Government Media Office, more than 39 food facilities and 29 community kitchens have been destroyed since the war began.

It is now painfully clear: Israel’s strategy is not only to block aid from entering Gaza, but to dismantle every part of the food supply chain.

The impact has been devastating. For those who can still afford food, only scraps remain. For everyone else, hunger is a daily battle. Life in Gaza has become harder than death.

The youngest suffer the most. On May 21, the Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor reported that at least 26 Palestinians, including nine children, died in a single day due to starvation and lack of medical care. Earlier, Gaza’s Ministry of Health reported that at least 57 children have died from malnutrition since March.

As a mother, I often go without food for days so my children can eat the little we have. My husband searches all day for something to ease our hunger. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, we get a stale piece of bread and share a tomato or cucumber among our kids.

But Samer’s wife faces even greater hardship. She tries to hide her tears as her children ask when their father will return from the market. Now both mother and father, she waits in long queues for a meal she often doesn’t get. She returns empty-handed, whispering to her children, “Dad will bring food when he comes home.” They fall asleep hungry, dreaming of a father who will never return.

Israel claims it blocks aid because of Hamas. Western media repeat this narrative without question. But the reality on the ground is undeniable: this war is targeting all of Gaza’s people. Starvation is being used as a weapon. Aid is deliberately obstructed—a clear violation of international law.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu recently revealed his government’s true intentions: calling for the expulsion of all Palestinians from Gaza as a condition for ending the war.

His decision to allow some aid through is nothing more than a public relations ploy. A few bags of flour reached bakeries, and staged photos of bread were circulated to assure the world we’re being fed. But my family, and most families I know, haven’t received a single loaf. Where available, a sack of flour costs $450.

While Israel claims 388 aid trucks have entered Gaza since Monday, aid groups say only 119 have—and some of those were looted, as the Israeli army continues to strike aid distribution points. In reality, Gaza needs at least 500 trucks of aid every day to meet minimum requirements.

Western governments have issued threats and symbolic warnings to Israel. But why did they wait until our children began dying of hunger? And why are they still only issuing threats instead of taking decisive action?

Today, our greatest hope is for something as basic as a loaf of bread. Our only concern is how to survive this famine that has broken our bodies and drained our spirits. We are nothing but walking skeletons now. Our flesh is fading, but a spark of hope still flickers—for a day when this nightmare finally ends.

But who will stand with us? Who still holds compassion in their heart?

And above all, when will the world finally stop looking away from our slow, agonizing death by starvation?