Beneath the pale winter sun in western Gaza, Umm Hamada Qarout crouches by the roadside near Abbas intersection, her tired fingers plucking leaves from a wild lisan plant. The sparse greens will make the only meal her family eats for iftar on this twenty-second day of Ramadan. Once a humble winter staple, wild plants like lisan and khubeiza have become lifelines for Gaza’s two million people, trapped under a suffocating blockade with no relief in sight.  

"I’ve looked everywhere—there’s nothing left to feed my children but these weeds," Umm Hamada murmurs, her voice hollow with exhaustion. "No meat, no chicken, not even vegetables." The 50-year-old shares a home with her married son, whose meagre salary of 800 shekels a month is swallowed by prices that spiral higher each day.  

Nearby, in a makeshift tent along Third Street, Umm Ahmed Abu Halima sorts through a pile of khubeiza, brushing off the dirt. "At the start of the war, we ate these plants because we had no choice. Now, we’re back to them because the markets are empty," she says. Cooking the greens has become a grim exercise in scarcity—some boil them with just water, others stretch them with a pinch of flour. "Sometimes, we share what little we have with neighbours. Everyone brings something, but it’s never enough."  

In Sheikh Radwan market, stallholder Ahmed Hamouda watches as crowds sift through wilted mallow and spinach. "Before the war, these plants were cheap, something people bought occasionally. Now, they’re all anyone can afford," he says. Even unfamiliar greens like purslane are snatched up—anything to stave off hunger.  

The Gaza Government Media Office condemns what it calls Israel’s "deliberate starvation policy," accusing it of blocking food, water, and medicine to inflict slow death on civilians. Since October 2023, over 2.4 million Palestinians have faced famine conditions, with flour and sugar prices soaring by 200%. The UN’s World Food Programme warns no aid has entered since March, leaving families to scavenge or starve.  

For Umm Hamada and Umm Ahmed, survival now hinges on weeds and shared scraps. Yet as the siege tightens, so does the dread of what comes next. Gaza’s people cling to resilience, but beneath it lingers a harrowing truth: how much longer can they endure?