In a sweltering tent in Khan Younis, 70-year-old Salim Asfour clings to life, his frail body a stark testament to Gaza’s relentless siege. Once weighing 75 kilograms, he now barely tips the scale at 40, his voice trembling as he recounts months without a proper meal. “I swear to God, nothing decent for four to five months,” he says, his hunger now measured in seasons rather than days.

What was once poverty has become destitution. Lentils, once dismissed as the poor man’s food, are now an unattainable luxury. Salim’s daughter, Suad, holds back tears as she speaks of empty tents, salt replacing sustenance, and tea brewed without sugar, just enough to trick the stomach into silence. Her own children roam the bombed streets, risking their lives for scraps of flour to keep their family alive for another day.

This is not just Salim’s story but that of thousands across Gaza, where famine has been weaponised. Medicine has vanished, healthcare has collapsed, and tents meant for temporary shelter now resemble open-air graves. “My father is starving. My mother has cancer. And I’m hungry too,” Suad confesses, her voice hollow with exhaustion.

Amid the ruins, Salim’s plea pierces through: “The famine is real. We are all starving.” His words echo a question the world refuses to answer, how much longer must Gaza endure this cruelty before action replaces silence, and siege gives way to life?