Ramadan in Gaza: Labor is scarce, grief is overwhelming

For more than five months, Gaza has been experiencing carnage, disease, hunger, displacement, expulsion and thirst. I was looking forward to Ramadan in the positive hope that this holy month will come in a different way than the previous ones and bring joy. But when the month of Ramadan came, nothing changed. The situation remained the same. Atrocities and oppression still continue . The story of Ghoda Alhaddad from Gaza.

For Gaza's 2.2 million Muslims, the month of Ramadan has historically served as a time of hospitality, remembrance, e'tikaf and pilgrimage.

But Israel's repeated wars in Gaza over the past decade have cast a dark shadow over the once vibrant and vibrant tradition. The ongoing genocidal onslaught that has killed more than 32,000 Palestinians and ravaged Gaza has made this the deadliest month in months.

I politely say "Ramadan Mubarak" to passers-by on the street. I feel uncomfortable and embarrassed because all the joyous celebrations of Ramadan have been replaced by war, sadness, sorrow, and silent mourning.

Last year, for the first time in my career, I got a job with a decent salary, and I was very happy about it. Rejoicing in my financial recovery, I entertained all 22 of my nieces and nephews with colorful lanterns or "fonus" to celebrate the holy month.

The joy and happiness reflected in their eyes was contagious. That's why I decided to make this gift an annual ritual. Little did I know then that circumstances beyond my control would cruelly shatter that promise of joy.

Today, the reality of life in Gaza has changed radically. Many of my nieces and nephews are condemned to live in tents, starving, and have been separated from their homes due to the ruins of the war. Others left Gaza entirely and sought refuge elsewhere.

Gaza turned into ruins

In "normal" conditions, for example, in a blockaded area, people wait and prepare for Ramadan for weeks in advance.

Balconies of houses and businesses, shop fronts were decorated with lanterns, and the streets of Gaza were full of life as they prepared to welcome the holy month. I remember fondly when my brides helped decorate the front porch of our house with these tiny lights.

Led by young mothers and enthusiastic youth, this noble tradition is spreading cheer to people across neighborhoods. It filled my heart with joy to see the streets of Gaza lit up by floodlights, solar panels, and sometimes even electricity. But this year's Ramadan is a month of trouble.

Today, the lively night streets of Gaza have fallen into a gloomy silence. The lands where life once flourished are now occupied by ruins. The joyful sounds of children playing and rejoicing were replaced by the heartbreaking cries of those trapped under the rubble.

On the first day of Ramadan, I wandered the streets, hoping to see if there were any traces of that bright past. But what I realized with regret is that there is no trace of our lively past.

In the open markets that used to be bustling with people, only a few stalls selling a small amount of lemons, eggplants, tomatoes and homemade laundry soap remain. The faces of the passers-by I met could only see sadness and despair. In those moments, I cried uncontrollably because of the loss of those precious memories.

The colorful lights and lanterns that once decorated the roads have been replaced by the terrible flames of death bombs and ruins .

Mosques that were once crowded with worshipers are either completely empty or in ruins. Imams are now urging people to pray inside their homes or temporary tents.

The atmosphere of Ramadan evenings filled with tarawih prayers and recitation of the Koran in mosques was replaced by the sounds of Israeli bombs. The aromas that wafted through the streets and shops of Gaza are now a distant memory.

Even in Ramadan ...

When I was young, I walked home from school. At that time, I was walking in the narrow alleys of the "Deir al-Balah" refugee camp. As I walked through the streets, I could hear the clinking of dishes and the voices of women cooking. The air would be filled with the delicious smell of food being cooked inside the houses.

Recently, a dear friend of mine and her husband were tragically killed in an airstrike on their home. Once we returned home from school with him. Back then, as he walked along the road, he could identify dishes and food by the aromas emanating from each room. And I liked the time when the sun went down and the evening prayer started.

When the first day of Ramadan arrived, most of us did not even think about what to cook for Iftar, because the answer was obvious: molochia. This thick and delicious soup made from the leaves of the jute plant has always served as an "opener" for the Ramadan iftar table in Gaza. Like other Palestinian mothers and grandmothers, my mother believed that the vibrant green color of molokhia instills optimism and brings happiness to people throughout the month.

This year, it's the opposite. When it comes to our food, I have to say that we don't even have a choice anymore. Our people are currently relying on a few boxes of food from aid parcels.

Most of the fasting people around the world suffer from headaches and fatigue due to lack of food and caffeine, and we didn't feel the same fatigue on the first day of Ramadan this year because we have been suffering from this deficiency for several months.

Today, the people of Gaza are fasting not because of personal choice, but because of a lack of food and water.

My brother, who works in a hospital, said, "We've been fasting for five months, so we did n't worry if we had a headache on the first day or not." "Honestly, we don't have a headache."

We greeted the first dawn with Israeli airstrikes and artillery shelling of Deir al-Balah. My mother sighed: "Even in Ramadan, they didn't let me rest, did they ?"

We were very used to qata i f, which is now gone, and was once our favorite Ramadan dessert. A kilogram of sugar, which used to cost only 8 shekels ($2), now costs 85 shekels ($23).

Sadly, the joyous Ramadan mood in Gaza is no more. Wide spread banquet tables gave way to canned food in trays.

Families no longer gather in celebration, but in mourning.

Destruction of houses, markets, schools, loss of loved ones, derailment of daily life have caused us unimaginable pain and loss.

For more than five months, Gaza has been experiencing carnage, disease, hunger, displacement, expulsion and thirst. I was looking forward to Ramadan in the positive hope that this holy month will come in a different way than the previous ones and bring joy. But when the month of Ramadan came, nothing changed. The situation remained the same. Atrocities and oppression still continue.

We used to pray to Allah to welcome Ramadan without losing any of our loved ones.

However, this Ramadan we have lost many friends, family members and relatives. We lost our homes. We have lost our verse . We lost X prey. We have lost everything we have .

In this month, we are fasting from everything, be it food, conversation, joy and smiles, or spiritual experiences. All that's left is misery and sorrow...

Ghoda Alhaddad