A deadly race for food: Palestinians in Gaza risk harrowing journey day after day
Each day, Palestinians in Gaza run a deadly gantlet in hopes of getting food. Israeli troops open barrages of gunfire toward crowds crossing military zones to get to the aid, they say, and knife-wielding thieves wait to ambush those who succeed. Palestinians say lawlessness is growing as they are forced into a competition to feed their families.
A lucky few manage to secure some packets of lentils, a jar of Nutella or a bag of flour. Many return empty-handed and must attempt the ordeal again the next day.
'This isn't aid. It's humiliation. It's death,' said Jamil Atili, his face shining with sweat as he made his way back last week from a food center run by the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation, an Israeli-backed private contractor. He had suffered a knife cut across his cheek amid the scramble for food and said a contractor guard pepper-sprayed him in the face. Still, he emerged with nothing for his 13 family members.
'I have nothing to feed my children,' he said, nearly crying. 'My heart is broken.'
Israel began allowing food into Gaza this past month after cutting it off completely for 10 weeks, though United Nations officials say it is not enough to stave off starvation. Most of the supplies go to GHF, which operates four food distribution points inside Israeli military zones. A trickle of aid goes to the U.N. and humanitarian groups.
Both systems are mired in chaos. Daily gunfire by Israeli troops toward crowds on the roads heading to the GHF centers has killed several hundred people and wounded hundreds more in past weeks, according to Gaza's Health Ministry.
At the same time, in past weeks, hungry crowds overwhelm most of the U.N.'s truck convoys and strip away the supplies. Israeli troops have opened fire to disperse crowds waiting for trucks near military zones, witnesses say — and on Tuesday, more than 50 people were killed, according to the ministry. The Israeli military says it is investigating.
'I don't see how it can get any worse, because it is already apocalyptic. But somehow it does get worse,' said Olga Cherevko, spokesperson for the U.N. humanitarian affairs office.
Israel and GHF downplay the violence
Israel says it has only fired warning shots at suspects who approached its forces along the roads to the GHF food centers.
Palestinian witnesses say the troops fire to prevent crowds from moving past a certain point before the centers open or because people leave the road designated by the military. They describe heavy barrages from tanks, snipers, drones and even guns mounted on cranes.
Asked how its soldiers control movement, the military told The Associated Press its 'operational conduct ... is accompanied by systematic learning processes.' It said it was looking into safety measures like fences and road signs.
GHF says no shootings have taken place in or near its hubs. A spokesperson, speaking on condition of anonymity under GHF rules, said incidents take place before sites open involving aid-seekers who move 'during prohibited times ... or trying to take a short cut.' They said GHF is trying to improve safety, in part by changing opening times to daylight hours.
Israel intends for GHF to replace the U.N.-led aid network in Gaza, contending that Hamas diverts large amounts of aid from it. The U.N. denies the claim.
Ducking under fire
Thousands of people must walk miles to reach the GHF centers, three of which are in the far south outside the city of Rafah. Palestinians said the danger begins when the crowds enter the Israeli military zone encompassing Rafah.
Mohammed Saqer, a father of three who risked the trip multiple times, said that when he went last week, tanks were firing over the heads of the crowds as drone announcements told everyone to move back.
It's 'like it was 'Squid Game,'' Saqer said, referring to the dystopian thriller TV series in which contestants risk their lives to win a prize. Just raising your head might mean death, he said.
He and others crawled forward, then left the main road. A shot rang out nearby and they ducked, he said. They found a young man on the ground, shot in the back. The others assumed he was dead, but Saqer felt his chest — it was still warm, and he found a pulse. They carried him to a point where a car could pick him up.
Saqer said he stood for a moment, traumatized by the scene. Then people shouted that the site had opened.
The mad dash
Everyone broke into a crazed run, he said. He saw several people wounded on the ground. One man, bleeding from his abdomen, reached out his hand, pleading for help. No one stopped.
'Everyone is just running to get to the aid, to get there first,' Saqer said.
Omar al-Hobi described the same scene the four times he went last week. Twice, he returned empty-handed; once, he managed to grab a pack of lentils. On the fourth day, he was determined to secure flour for his three children and pregnant wife.
He said he and others inched their way forward under tank fire. He saw several people shot in the legs. One man fell bleeding to the ground, apparently dead, he said.
Horrified, al-Hobi froze, unable to move, 'but I remembered I have to feed my children.'
He took cover in a greenhouse, then heard the announcement that the center was open and began to run.
Avoiding thieves
At the center, food boxes are stacked on the ground in an area surrounded by fences and earthen berms. Thousands rush in to grab what they can in a frantic melee.
You have to move fast, Saqer said. Once supplies run out, some of those who came too late rob those leaving. He swiftly tore open a box and loaded the contents into a sack — juice, chickpeas, lentils, cheese, beans, flour and cooking oil.
Then he took off running. There's only one route in and out of the center. But, knowing thieves waited outside, Saqer clambered over a berm, running the risk of being fired on by Israeli troops.
'It all depends on the soldiers' mood. If they are in a bad mood … they will shoot at me. If not, they will let me be,' he said.
Heba Jouda said she saw a group of men beat up a boy of 12 or 13 years old and take his food as she left one of the Rafah centers. Another time, she said, thieves attacked an older man, who hugged his sack, weeping that his children had no food. They sliced his arm with a knife and ran off with the sack.
The finish line
Al-Hobi said he was trampled in the scramble for boxes. He managed to grab a bag of rice, a packet of macaroni. He snagged flour — but much of it was ruined in the chaos.
At his family tent outside Khan Younis, his wife, Anwaar Saleh, said she will ration it all to make it last a week or so.
'We hope he doesn't have to go back. His life is the most important thing,' she said.
Al-Hobi remains shaken — both by his brushes with death and the callousness that the race for food has instilled in everyone.
'No one will show you mercy these days. Everybody fends for themselves.'
___
El Deeb reported from Beirut, Keath from Cairo. AP correspondent Samy Magdy in Cairo contributed.
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3 hours ago
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Inside Israel's ‘scientific crown jewels' bombed by Iran
Prof Eldad Tzahor can just about make out the remains of his office, high on the top floor of the life sciences and cancer research building. Or at least, half of it. The other half is lying in a heap of rubble and twisted metal at our feet. We are standing in the grounds of the Weizmann Institute in Rehovot, south of Tel Aviv, one of the pre-eminent research centres in the world and commonly referred to as Israel's scientific 'crown jewels'. The sprawling campus set among manicured lawns and colourful flower beds suffered two direct hits from Iranian ballistic missiles, in the early hours on Sunday. In the blink of an eye, years of cutting-edge research into human ageing, cancer prevention and regenerative medicine went up in smoke. Thousands of vital tissue and DNA samples were lost. At least one affected academic has since said they were on the cusp of a major breakthrough. Prof Tzahor, who was working on heart regeneration treatments, points to a sample freezer with a door hanging off, which is standing somewhat upright in the rubble. It stands near two enormous nitrogen tanks, which started a major fire when punctured in the blast. They now lie mangled on their sides. Mutilated extractor fans flop uselessly out of the side of the building, where they were ripped apart by the structure's collapse. 'Some of the studies we were doing take years and years of samples to build up,' he said. 'You can't restart them just like that. 'I suppose, just as we are trying to do with human tissue, we will have to regrow and regenerate.' For Prof Roee Ozeri, a quantum physicist who has given nearly 30 years of his life to the institute, the Iranian strikes were 'ironic'. 'We're fighting cancer and heart disease here, which helps all humanity – and they go and do this.' He points out that even Yahya Sinwar, the former Hamas leader and architect of October 7, benefitted from Israeli medicine when he had brain cancer while in prison. But although the cost to science is undeniable, the narrative of mindless, or indeed accidental, Iranian destruction is potentially misleading. Military sources believe the hit was a deliberate retaliation against Israel's campaign of assassination against Iranian nuclear scientists. This is because of the Weizmann Institute's connections with the defence industry, as well as its alleged historical links to Israel's own shadowy nuclear weapons programme. Israel has never formally admitted that it possesses nuclear weapons – some estimates put its stockpile of warheads into the hundreds – although the programme is often referred to as the worst-kept secret in the Jewish state. Prof Ozeri, who is also the institute's vice-president for communication, smiles wryly as he denies any institutional involvement in nuclear weapons. It is as if he gets the question a lot. 'We are a basic research institute,' he said. 'We do fundamental science for the future of humanity. There is no equivalence [with Israel's actions against Iranian scientists].' As Israel knows better than most, facts on the ground are often swiftly obscured in the war of misinformation. Sunday's strikes swiftly gave rise to online discussions across the Middle East as to their military legitimacy. Ernst Bergmann, the father of Israel's nuclear programme, was the former head of the Weizmann Institute, whose scientists learnt how to extract uranium from the phosphate of the Negev desert during the 1950s. But that is a far cry from current involvement in any Israeli nuclear weapons programme. Even if links did exist, Israelis dismiss any argument of moral equivalence between the assassination of Iranian nuclear scientists and Sunday's missile strike on the basis that Israel, unlike Iran, has never declared its intention to wipe a sovereign state off the map. Nevertheless, this is not the first time that Iran has been accused of targeting Weizmann scientists. Last year, Israeli authorities said they disrupted an Iranian spy ring in East Jerusalem that was plotting to assassinate a nuclear scientist who worked and lived at the institute. Much more straightforward is the Weizmann's links with various defence manufacturers, such as Elbit Systems, to collaborate on bio-materials and other tech, which are openly stated on both organisations' websites. But Weizmann, named after Israel's first president, is not the only university to have such links, nor to operate under a veil of visible security. 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The Independent
4 hours ago
- The Independent
A deadly race for food: Palestinians in Gaza risk harrowing journey day after day
Each day, Palestinians in Gaza run a deadly gantlet in hopes of getting food. Israeli troops open barrages of gunfire toward crowds crossing military zones to get to the aid, they say, and knife-wielding thieves wait to ambush those who succeed. Palestinians say lawlessness is growing as they are forced into a competition to feed their families. A lucky few manage to secure some packets of lentils, a jar of Nutella or a bag of flour. Many return empty-handed and must attempt the ordeal again the next day. 'This isn't aid. It's humiliation. It's death,' said Jamil Atili, his face shining with sweat as he made his way back last week from a food center run by the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation, an Israeli-backed private contractor. He had suffered a knife cut across his cheek amid the scramble for food and said a contractor guard pepper-sprayed him in the face. Still, he emerged with nothing for his 13 family members. 'I have nothing to feed my children,' he said, nearly crying. 'My heart is broken.' Israel began allowing food into Gaza this past month after cutting it off completely for 10 weeks, though United Nations officials say it is not enough to stave off starvation. Most of the supplies go to GHF, which operates four food distribution points inside Israeli military zones. A trickle of aid goes to the U.N. and humanitarian groups. Both systems are mired in chaos. Daily gunfire by Israeli troops toward crowds on the roads heading to the GHF centers has killed several hundred people and wounded hundreds more in past weeks, according to Gaza's Health Ministry. At the same time, in past weeks, hungry crowds overwhelm most of the U.N.'s truck convoys and strip away the supplies. Israeli troops have opened fire to disperse crowds waiting for trucks near military zones, witnesses say — and on Tuesday, more than 50 people were killed, according to the ministry. The Israeli military says it is investigating. 'I don't see how it can get any worse, because it is already apocalyptic. But somehow it does get worse,' said Olga Cherevko, spokesperson for the U.N. humanitarian affairs office. Israel and GHF downplay the violence Israel says it has only fired warning shots at suspects who approached its forces along the roads to the GHF food centers. Palestinian witnesses say the troops fire to prevent crowds from moving past a certain point before the centers open or because people leave the road designated by the military. They describe heavy barrages from tanks, snipers, drones and even guns mounted on cranes. Asked how its soldiers control movement, the military told The Associated Press its 'operational conduct ... is accompanied by systematic learning processes.' It said it was looking into safety measures like fences and road signs. GHF says no shootings have taken place in or near its hubs. A spokesperson, speaking on condition of anonymity under GHF rules, said incidents take place before sites open involving aid-seekers who move 'during prohibited times ... or trying to take a short cut.' They said GHF is trying to improve safety, in part by changing opening times to daylight hours. Israel intends for GHF to replace the U.N.-led aid network in Gaza, contending that Hamas diverts large amounts of aid from it. The U.N. denies the claim. Ducking under fire Thousands of people must walk miles to reach the GHF centers, three of which are in the far south outside the city of Rafah. Palestinians said the danger begins when the crowds enter the Israeli military zone encompassing Rafah. Mohammed Saqer, a father of three who risked the trip multiple times, said that when he went last week, tanks were firing over the heads of the crowds as drone announcements told everyone to move back. It's 'like it was 'Squid Game,'' Saqer said, referring to the dystopian thriller TV series in which contestants risk their lives to win a prize. Just raising your head might mean death, he said. He and others crawled forward, then left the main road. A shot rang out nearby and they ducked, he said. They found a young man on the ground, shot in the back. The others assumed he was dead, but Saqer felt his chest — it was still warm, and he found a pulse. They carried him to a point where a car could pick him up. Saqer said he stood for a moment, traumatized by the scene. Then people shouted that the site had opened. The mad dash Everyone broke into a crazed run, he said. He saw several people wounded on the ground. One man, bleeding from his abdomen, reached out his hand, pleading for help. No one stopped. 'Everyone is just running to get to the aid, to get there first,' Saqer said. Omar al-Hobi described the same scene the four times he went last week. Twice, he returned empty-handed; once, he managed to grab a pack of lentils. On the fourth day, he was determined to secure flour for his three children and pregnant wife. He said he and others inched their way forward under tank fire. He saw several people shot in the legs. One man fell bleeding to the ground, apparently dead, he said. Horrified, al-Hobi froze, unable to move, 'but I remembered I have to feed my children.' He took cover in a greenhouse, then heard the announcement that the center was open and began to run. Avoiding thieves At the center, food boxes are stacked on the ground in an area surrounded by fences and earthen berms. Thousands rush in to grab what they can in a frantic melee. You have to move fast, Saqer said. Once supplies run out, some of those who came too late rob those leaving. He swiftly tore open a box and loaded the contents into a sack — juice, chickpeas, lentils, cheese, beans, flour and cooking oil. Then he took off running. There's only one route in and out of the center. But, knowing thieves waited outside, Saqer clambered over a berm, running the risk of being fired on by Israeli troops. 'It all depends on the soldiers' mood. If they are in a bad mood … they will shoot at me. If not, they will let me be,' he said. Heba Jouda said she saw a group of men beat up a boy of 12 or 13 years old and take his food as she left one of the Rafah centers. Another time, she said, thieves attacked an older man, who hugged his sack, weeping that his children had no food. They sliced his arm with a knife and ran off with the sack. The finish line Al-Hobi said he was trampled in the scramble for boxes. He managed to grab a bag of rice, a packet of macaroni. He snagged flour — but much of it was ruined in the chaos. At his family tent outside Khan Younis, his wife, Anwaar Saleh, said she will ration it all to make it last a week or so. 'We hope he doesn't have to go back. His life is the most important thing,' she said. Al-Hobi remains shaken — both by his brushes with death and the callousness that the race for food has instilled in everyone. 'No one will show you mercy these days. Everybody fends for themselves.' ___ El Deeb reported from Beirut, Keath from Cairo. AP correspondent Samy Magdy in Cairo contributed.
The Guardian
a day ago
- The Guardian
Israel, we're begging you: please let aid organisations do our jobs in Gaza
Abed Al Rahman, just a boy, carried the weight of his family's hunger as he stepped into the streets of Gaza in search of bread. He had his father's money, but when he saw the tide of people pushing towards a food distribution site in Rafah, hunger pulled him into their flow. Almost immediately, the site descended into chaos. Gunfire. Drones. Then in a flash, shrapnel from a tank shell ripped through his little body. When I met him at a hospital in Khan Younis – where painkillers, like food, are scarce – the 13-year-old was in agony. 'I have shrapnel inside my body that they couldn't remove,' he told me. 'I am in real pain; since 6am I have been asking for a painkiller.' As he recounted the chaos, his father's composure shattered, and tears rolled down his face. Was he going to lose his son simply because Abed Al Rahman wanted his family to eat? Abed Al Rahman had been trying to get food from a new private and militarised distribution site in Gaza. The Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF) is funnelling aid through a handful of southern sites guarded by private contractors and Israeli soldiers. With so few distribution points, those who can make the trek are forced to travel long, dangerous distances – risking their lives for grossly inadequate amounts of supplies. In the first week of the GHF's operation, there were five mass-casualty events in the vicinity of distribution sites as desperate civilians were met by gun and tank fire. Children have been killed. The UN's aid chief, Tom Fletcher, said the sites made 'starvation a bargaining chip' and were 'a fig leaf for further violence and displacement'. A system that bypasses the UN has, in fact, bypassed humanity. Indeed, politicised aid distribution is unsafe for everyone involved – last week, the GHF said eight of its local team members and volunteers had been killed. And while it's critical that there is a focus on this lethal lack of aid for Palestinians, the daily killing and maiming of children has become an afterthought. This is my fifth mission to Gaza since the horrors of 7 October, and in all that time almost nothing has been done to stop the world's deadliest conflict for children in recent memory. There have been more than 50,000 children reported killed or injured in 20 months. Fifty thousand. On the same morning I met Abed Al Rahman, I spoke with 24-year-old Sheima, also hospitalised. She, too, went to one of the GHF distribution sites. Different day, same story: her family was denied humanitarian aid for months. Consumed by hunger, her father too sick to travel, Sheima reached a site. Again, gunfire. Boxes of food thrown to the dirt. 'I saw dead bodies on the ground,' she told me. 'People stepping over them, just trying to get some food.' In the mayhem, Sheima became entangled in wire – her leg and arm torn open as she tried to flee. She didn't get any food. 'Even though I almost died, I would go again,' she said. 'I'm the eldest in my family – we need food to survive. I wish to die with a full stomach, not from starvation.' These raw testimonials reinforce two critical questions. First, when UN and international non-governmental organisations warehouses outside Gaza are jam-packed with lifesaving supplies, why is there still a lethal lack of humanitarian aid in Gaza? And second, will these few sites run by private contractors solve the crisis? On the first point, after a total blockade on all supplies going into Gaza from early March until 19 May, Unicef and the World Food Programme are now permitted to bring in limited quantities of only a few selected items. Meanwhile, the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification warned last month that all 2.1 million Palestinians in Gaza are facing life-threatening food insecurity. Lack of access to clean water has been pushed to lethal levels. Amid incessant bombardments, drastic aid restrictions and mass displacement of the civilian population, the risk of famine is not just possible, but increasingly likely for families in Gaza. From the end of the ceasefire to May this year, malnutrition admissions among children aged under five surged by nearly 150%, with a steep rise in severe cases. This isn't just a trend – it's an urgent warning. And to the second question, can the GHF prevent famine? The reality is, far too little aid is being distributed from far too few distribution points, all amid concerns that families travelling from northern Gaza to reach sites in the south will not be allowed to return. This is not how you avert famine. Before the collapse of the most recent ceasefire, the UN operated a highly effective aid delivery system in Gaza. And during the ceasefire, we were delivering assistance from more than 400 distribution points across the territory. Access to food, safe water, medicines and shelter skyrocketed. Unicef even went door-to-door to reach malnourished children. Unicef continues to call for a ceasefire, protection of children, the release of hostages and full aid access. We know what it takes to deliver for children in emergencies – it is the same in every crisis and every conflict since the second world war. Children need nutritious food at scale, safety, clean water and dignity. Not security operators. Not indiscriminate fire. Not chaos. There is no need to reinvent the wheel. We delivered aid at scale during the ceasefire, and we can do it again. We just need to be allowed to do our jobs. Abed Al Rahman died of his injuries on 17 June 2025, after this article was written. James Elder is Unicef's global spokesperson
