Nothing to Eat at Eid

Ruwaida Amer 

The Electronic Intifada 

18 June 2024

Since the first day of this horrible war, we have been waiting for its end.

We had hoped that it would end with the arrival of 2024. But then the new year came and Israel did not halt its genocide.

Ramadan arrived later.

We fast for long hours during Ramadan. It is a month in which we need peace and calm.

But the war did not stop then. Nor did it stop at Eid al-Fitr.

And now it is continuing during Eid al-Adha.

My father and brother would normally prepare for Eid al-Adha by going to see the sacrifice of animals with our neighbor Abu Alaa.

That is not possible this year. Abu Alaa has left Gaza so that he could take care of his daughter, who lost her husband and child in a huge explosion.

We fast during the 10 days leading to Eid al-Adha. Then Eid begins with its beautiful takbir – a preface to prayer.

My brother and father would normally collect the meat for the Eid feast. Then we would distribute meat among our extended family.

Various relatives would call and express appreciation for the meat – both the quality and the quantity.

It is completely different this Eid.

For more than a month, there has been no meat or fish available in the markets.

The only food available are some legumes and canned foods that our stomachs no longer tolerate.

We had hoped that Israel would allow food to enter Gaza ahead of Eid. But Israel did not do so.

All the evidence indicates that Israel has a deliberate policy of starving our people.

For the first time, I did not wake up to the sound of an Eid takbir from the mosque. It was as if the sound was so low that nobody could hear it.

I woke up and said some kind words to my family. But there was a great sadness and exhaustion in my heart.

We would normally coordinate our Eid preparations with my sister.

That is not possible this year. Her house and its contents have been destroyed by Israel.

You can see the sadness in my sister’s eyes; she cries every day. She cannot spend Eid in her home.

She has not been able to buy Eid clothes for her children. There are no clothes in the market.

Fortunately, they already had some good clothes that they could wear.

The sacrificing of animals cannot be arranged in the normal way. Prices of farm animals are astronomical.

A small skinny sheep costs approximately $1,000. It used to cost $400.

The quality of meat is low, too, as there is not enough feed for livestock.

We are all going through a famine because of Israel’s invasion of Rafah. It forced the closure of the crossing between that city and Egypt.

My father used to drive to my aunts’ houses and give them meat.

This Eid, my aunts are not in their homes. Each of them is in a tent.

The Israeli army destroyed their homes when it invaded the city of Khan Younis.

My father still went to check on my aunts this Eid. The trip took hours as he had no means of transport.

When he came back to us, he was so exhausted that he could barely stand. His clothes were in a poor condition from all the dust and rubble to which he was exposed.

My mother tried to call some relatives. But she could not get a connection.

She is accustomed to being visited by her nephews. None of them came this Eid.

The distance is too long and the journey too difficult. They are all in tents.

No joy

I am not well. I feel like I am going to collapse from exhaustion.

My head almost explodes when I contrast my life before and during the war.

At one point this Eid, there were just three of us at home. One of my sisters, my mother and myself.

“What do you want to eat?” my sister asked.

I told her that I hated this question. My stomach is tired of legumes and canned food but we have nothing else.

I used to go to the mall every day and bring home groceries for my family. I cannot do so now because there is almost nothing to buy.

There is no joy at Eid this year.

The sound of bombing has not stopped. We can also hear shells being fired from tanks.

And we can hear ambulances.

When I heard an ambulance, I wondered who had been martyred on the first day of Eid al-Adha.

The streets are quiet. There are no children playing in them.

The only visitor we had was my uncle who came to check on us. He asked if the war will end or if we will be killed.

This war has deprived us of everything.

We have lost our happiness and security.

We have been robbed of the right to food and water.

Children have lost their childhood.

Youth have lost their future.

This war has meant that we are going through what our parents went through during the Nakba, the 1948 ethnic cleansing of Palestine. Yet our experience is more difficult than that of our grandparents.

Israel is committing a genocide with weapons from the US, the world’s only superpower.

It is as if the language of peace no longer exists. It has been replaced by the language of death and war.

Ruwaida Amer is a journalist based in Gaza.