Mohammed Mhawish

A few weeks ago, I got a phone call from my friend, Abdelhakim Aburayas. He's in Gaza, in the north. He said, I can't explain the pain in my stomach, in my bones, in my head. I knew exactly what he meant. Right before I left Gaza a year ago, I was in the north of the Strip. There was a blockade then as well. No food or supplies. My son and I were both diagnosed with acute malnutrition.

A few weeks ago, I got a phone call from my friend, Abdelhakim Aburayas. He's in Gaza, in the north. He said, I can't explain the pain in my stomach, in my bones, in my head. I knew exactly what he meant. Right before I left Gaza a year ago, I was in the north of the Strip. There was a blockade then as well. No food or supplies. My son and I were both diagnosed with acute malnutrition.

A few weeks ago, I got a phone call from my friend, Abdelhakim Aburayas. He's in Gaza, in the north. He said, I can't explain the pain in my stomach, in my bones, in my head. I knew exactly what he meant. Right before I left Gaza a year ago, I was in the north of the Strip. There was a blockade then as well. No food or supplies. My son and I were both diagnosed with acute malnutrition.

Now, it's not just the north. All of Gaza is hungry. When I call people there now, all I hear are stories of hunger. The quiet and desperate tricks that people have come up with to survive. A father living in my old neighborhood, a garage, told me his family of five shared a single Snickers bar for lunch. We slice it like cake, he said. We make it a moment.

Now, it's not just the north. All of Gaza is hungry. When I call people there now, all I hear are stories of hunger. The quiet and desperate tricks that people have come up with to survive. A father living in my old neighborhood, a garage, told me his family of five shared a single Snickers bar for lunch. We slice it like cake, he said. We make it a moment.

Now, it's not just the north. All of Gaza is hungry. When I call people there now, all I hear are stories of hunger. The quiet and desperate tricks that people have come up with to survive. A father living in my old neighborhood, a garage, told me his family of five shared a single Snickers bar for lunch. We slice it like cake, he said. We make it a moment.

I talked to a son in charge of searching for food for his whole family, who told me, We boil herbs to trick our bodies into thinking we're full. We feed the children first, then wait to see if there is anything left. Most nights, there isn't. Now I'm talking a lot to another person in the north who does cake. She's 20 years old. A few months ago, she messaged me out of the blue.

I talked to a son in charge of searching for food for his whole family, who told me, We boil herbs to trick our bodies into thinking we're full. We feed the children first, then wait to see if there is anything left. Most nights, there isn't. Now I'm talking a lot to another person in the north who does cake. She's 20 years old. A few months ago, she messaged me out of the blue.

I talked to a son in charge of searching for food for his whole family, who told me, We boil herbs to trick our bodies into thinking we're full. We feed the children first, then wait to see if there is anything left. Most nights, there isn't. Now I'm talking a lot to another person in the north who does cake. She's 20 years old. A few months ago, she messaged me out of the blue.

She said she wanted to be a journalist, asked me for advice on how to pitch to news outlets. These days, I message her for updates. I called her on week 11 of the blockade, week 11 of no food going into Gaza. We don't just talk about food. She has ambitions. I asked which journalists from Gaza she'd been reading lately.

She said she wanted to be a journalist, asked me for advice on how to pitch to news outlets. These days, I message her for updates. I called her on week 11 of the blockade, week 11 of no food going into Gaza. We don't just talk about food. She has ambitions. I asked which journalists from Gaza she'd been reading lately.

She said she wanted to be a journalist, asked me for advice on how to pitch to news outlets. These days, I message her for updates. I called her on week 11 of the blockade, week 11 of no food going into Gaza. We don't just talk about food. She has ambitions. I asked which journalists from Gaza she'd been reading lately.

So you're not reading my work. Okay, thank you.

So you're not reading my work. Okay, thank you.

So you're not reading my work. Okay, thank you.

She did. Huda is a very serious student. She's studying English literature online through the Islamic University of Gaza. First in her class. She told me studying brings her peace. It was nighttime in Gaza when we talked. Nine hours since she'd last eaten.

She did. Huda is a very serious student. She's studying English literature online through the Islamic University of Gaza. First in her class. She told me studying brings her peace. It was nighttime in Gaza when we talked. Nine hours since she'd last eaten.

She did. Huda is a very serious student. She's studying English literature online through the Islamic University of Gaza. First in her class. She told me studying brings her peace. It was nighttime in Gaza when we talked. Nine hours since she'd last eaten.

It's exam time right now. Huda has been putting her headphones on and studying late into the night. I was astonished by Huda's ability to stay focused. Nighttime is terrifying in Gaza. All we could hear was explosions and the sound of drones getting closer. But Huda just studies through it.

It's exam time right now. Huda has been putting her headphones on and studying late into the night. I was astonished by Huda's ability to stay focused. Nighttime is terrifying in Gaza. All we could hear was explosions and the sound of drones getting closer. But Huda just studies through it.