Ghada and the Flour: A Story from the broken Heart of Gaza
Five days ago, in one of the neighborhoods of Khaza’a, east of Khan Yunis, Ghada Qdeih, a Palestinian woman in her forties, whose face shows exhaustion, hunger, and severe fatigue, went out searching through the rubble, carefully gathering scattered bits of flour from the ground.
Every step Ghada took was a silent battle between hope and despair. Her eyes scanned every grain of dust as if collecting not only flour but a fragile thread of safety and life for her family. The flour was more than just food; it was a promise of bread, a lifeline to feed the hungry mouths waiting at home.
Ghada carries the heavy responsibility of caring for her ailing mother and everyone who depends on her. In a trembling voice filled with quiet strength, she said,
“Every day is a fight just to find something to eat. The questions from my loved ones weigh heavily on me, and sometimes I find no words, only silence.”
Ghada’s suffering reflects the reality of thousands of families in Gaza facing a genocidal war and a suffocating blockade. According to reports from the United Nations, over 80% of Gaza’s population depends on humanitarian aid to survive.
Since the beginning of the war, thousands of civilians have been killed, including more than a thousand children, and thousands of homes have been reduced to rubble, leading to widespread internal displacement amid severe shortages of shelter, food, and medicine.
Nights in Gaza are filled with the thunderous sounds of bombing and destruction, while children sleep on thin mattresses with cold creeping through the cracks. Mothers hold their loved ones, trying to keep hope alive through whispers and prayers.
Official figures confirm that more than 60% of Gaza’s health facilities have been damaged or forced to cease operations, at a time of acute shortages of medicines and medical supplies.
Unemployment rates have soared above 50%, with a lack of job opportunities and scarce resources. The suffering goes beyond hunger; it is the loss of homes turned to ashes, missing familiar faces, and hearts breaking under the weight of fear and uncertainty.
Yet, despite everything, Ghada did not give up. She returned home with the handful of flour she had painstakingly gathered, lit a small fire, and baked simple bread. Though it did not taste as usual, it carried the warmth of survival and resilience.
Before eating, she shared the bread with her neighbors who had lost even more than she did, wearing a smile that expressed solidarity and an unbroken spirit.
Ghada quietly said, “We are a people who refuse to die under the weight of pain. We live on the hope of a better tomorrow, for peace and dignity for those we love.”
Humanitarian organizations try to provide aid, but the blockade and restrictions often hinder the delivery of assistance to those in dire need. In the quiet voices of women lies a plea: “Just hear us, see our pain, feel our existence.”
Ghada and the people of Gaza are not mere numbers in reports or statistics; they are humans who fill the earth with patience and love. Despite the destruction, they hold on to hope for peace and a dignified life.
Alaa Alburai, Kufi Productions
