In Gaza, hunger is no longer simply about the absence of food, it is about the collapse of an entire means of survival.
For Mohammad Abu Rameesh, 44, food for his family would come in the form of daily meals delivered by community kitchens. Displaced from Jabalia to the coastal area of Al Mawasi in Khan Younis, southern Gaza, Mr Abu Rameesh relied entirely on aid to feed his eight children.
“At the beginning, the meals were enough,” he told The National. “There was variety. We didn’t need to cook or buy anything. But that stability ended. Kitchens that once delivered food daily now do so sporadically, if they do so at all."
Now, Mr Abu Rameesh walks four kilometres each day to reach another charity kitchen after aid ended in his area.
His story reflects a shift across Gaza, where humanitarian aid systems are shrinking under pressure from funding cuts and severe restrictions on supplies.
In 2025, about 50 international organisations were helping to deliver food across the Gaza Strip. But by the end of the year, 37 of these organisations had been told by the Israeli government that their registrations would expire on December 31.
This came after a new law was put in place, under which all international NGOs operating in Gaza had to share the names of their staff with the Israeli authorities. Many refused to do so.
Aid workers describe a “perfect storm” of dwindling funds, donor fatigue and increased Israeli restrictions. A worker with World Central Kitchen in Deir Al Balah said that while the humanitarian group once supervised 65 community kitchens, that number has been more than halved.
“We used to provide tens of thousands of meals daily, now we only provide thousands,” the worker told The National, blaming the limited entry of raw materials.
One of the conditions of the ceasefire that halted two years of devastating war between Israel and Hamas in October was that sufficient quantities of aid be allowed into the Palestinian territory. However, aid groups say this has not happened.
The territory is unable to produce any food of its own, with almost all of its agricultural land either inaccessible or destroyed by Israeli bombardment, according to the US-based NGO Mercy Corps.
The decline in food supplies is not limited to prepared meals. Gaza’s bread supply, arguably the most basic and essential food, is also under threat.
For Ibrahim Al Majdhoub, 38, affording even subsidised bread to feed his six children is already a struggle. “We need two kilograms a day,” he told The National. “Even now, it is hard for me to pay three shekels [$1] for that amount. How will we manage if it ever becomes 10?”
This is a scenario that many fear may soon become reality.
The World Food Programme, which has been supporting bakeries with flour and fuel, is expected to reduce or halt its funding in the weeks ahead. If that happens, the price of bread could more than triple, putting it out of reach of many families who depend upon it as their primary sustenance.
“Without this support, we are heading back towards famine,” Mr Al Majdhoub said.
The numbers behind the crisis make for hard reading. Abdel Al Ajrami, head of the Bakery Owners' Association in Gaza, says Gaza is facing a 50 per cent shortfall in bread production. Recent cuts in flour and diesel supplies have reduced bakery output from 300 tonnes a day to about 200, widening the gap between supply and demand.
Even more worrying for Gaza residents are plans to shift bakeries from a subsidised system to a commercial one. With dwindling funds, many bakers may have to switch to buying flour and selling bread to buyers who can afford it.
While this might work in stable markets, Mr Al Ajrami said it is unfeasible in Gaza’s current situation, where goods are scarce, and purchasing power is extremely weak. “It will not solve the crisis,” he told The National. “It will deepen it.”
World Food Programme officials acknowledge the strain. One staff member in Gaza described how operations depend on a steady flow of at least 30 aid lorries a day, but deliveries are frequently delayed or blocked for days at a time. “We are committed,” they said. “But we cannot meet the needs with these limitations.”
The result is a cascading crisis. Less fuel means fewer bakery operations. Fewer bakeries mean less bread. Reduced funding shrinks food distribution. And families such as Mr Abu Rameesh’s face travelling longer distances, higher prices and increasing uncertainty simply to secure a single meal.
“We don’t want to live through the famine again, it would be a nightmare,” Mr Abu Rameesh said.
