In Gaza, hunger is no longer a by-product of war, it is the war. As Israel's siege stretches into its 21st month, famine tightens its grip on a population trapped by bombs, bureaucracy, and indifference. Nearly two million people are now confined to slivers of land that make up less than 15% of the Strip, and for many, the struggle for bread is deadlier than airstrikes.

Children are the first to fall. UN agencies report a sharp rise in malnutrition, with one in ten children showing signs of wasting, and over 5,800 new cases documented just last month. The figures are staggering, but the scenes inside Gaza’s tents are worse. Mothers like Riham Hassouna and Manal Sahwil, displaced repeatedly and stripped of everything, now watch their children cry not from fear, but from hunger.

Aid, even when it exists, is weaponised. Food is routed through heavily militarised zones, dubbed “death corridors,” where over 875 Palestinians have been killed while simply trying to access life-saving supplies. Inside Gaza, hope is rationed more cruelly than food.

The World Food Programme says enough provisions sit just outside Gaza to feed a million people, but Israel’s blockade makes delivery near impossible. Rumours of new crossings and agreements have stirred brief glimmers of hope, but civil society leaders in Gaza deny seeing any real change. “Nothing moves,” says Amjad Al-Shawa. “No food, no medicine, no fuel.”

Meanwhile, the Strip’s hospitals are collapsing under the weight of shortages, disease, and despair. With 85% of Gaza’s water infrastructure destroyed and fuel barred from entry, residents are forced to drink polluted water, fuelling an epidemic in the making.

What is happening in Gaza is not a crisis of logistics. It is a deliberate policy of starvation, used to break a people already bleeding. And as the world debates, Gaza withers, quietly, painfully, and on empty stomachs.