“We have no home, no shelter, not even consistent humanitarian aid. Losing my husband was not a simple loss; it was like cutting the lifeline of our household.”
RAMADAN, the holiest month in the Islamic calendar, is a source of joy for Palestinians in Gaza. For the past three years, however, they have marked Ramadan amid a genocide that has left most families sitting for iftar with fewer loved ones due to death, displacement, or imprisonment.
Ramadan in Gaza has been especially painful for the widows as they have become sole providers for their surviving children amidst bombardment, starvation, and deprivation that show no sign of ending despite the supposed ceasefire which came into effect last October.
On the first day of Ramadan, Mariam Tlouli called her husband to the iftar. “Yalla, Mahmoud. The Adhan is near. Come, all of you,” she said. But she soon realised that she was hallucinating, as her husband had been killed by the Israelis last year.
“She went to check on her two children in their makeshift tent in Deir al-Balah in central Gaza and found them still sleeping peacefully, like angels,” Quds News Network reported. “I miss you, Mahmoud,” she whispered, caressing her son Ahmed.
Every Ramadan, Mahmoud would bring food and clothes for his family in preparation for the holy month and taraweeh, the month-long nightly prayers. But the Israelis have made all that a distant dream for Mariam, who said that they have not only killed her husband but destroyed her sole pillar of strength, her one and only support in the world.
“The backbone of our family is gone; my children and I no longer have anyone to lean on. Now, a single day without my husband feels like an entire year, how can I possibly remain strong?” Mariam said.
Having once shared household and financial responsibilities with him, she now bears the full weight of providing for her children alone, securing food, caring for traumatized children, and navigating daily life without financial stability.
“We rely on hot meals and assistance provided by aid organizations,” she said. “I wait in line for hours to receive a portion that is barely enough for one person, yet we are three. Even while fasting, we depend on this aid to survive.”
She added that her 14-year-old son, Ahmed, longs for the ordinary things other children take for granted, but she is unable to afford them.
“He is devastated,” Mariam said. “He is constantly sad, and it pains him to see other children with their fathers.”
“For boys like Ahmed, Ramadan will be remembered not for lanterns, sweets and joyful moments but for silence at the iftar table.”
“We have no home, no shelter, not even consistent humanitarian aid. Losing my husband was not a simple loss; it was like cutting the lifeline of our household.”
Having once shared household and financial responsibilities with him, she now bears the full weight of providing for her children alone, securing food, caring for traumatized children, and navigating daily life without financial stability.
“We rely on hot meals and assistance provided by aid organizations,” she said. “I wait in line for hours to receive a portion that is barely enough for one person, yet we are three. Even while fasting, we depend on this aid to survive.”
She added that her 14-year-old son, Ahmed, longs for the ordinary things other children take for granted, but she is unable to afford them.
“He is devastated,” Mariam said. “He is constantly sad, and it pains him to see other children with their fathers.”
“For boys like Ahmed, Ramadan will be remembered not for lanterns, sweets and joyful moments but for silence at the iftar table.”
“We have no home, no shelter, not even consistent humanitarian aid. Losing my husband was not a simple loss; it was like cutting the lifeline of our household.”
“Feed (others) food, and speak kind words.”
The message for the starving Palestinians, who had no idea if they would have a morsel for their iftar, continued:
“(Wishing you) an accepted fast, forgiven sins, and a delicious iftar, God willing.”
The same psychological warfare continued in Ramadan 2025. Taking their depravity up another notch, the Israelis dropped a leaflet with verses from the Qur’an:
We will certainly test you with a touch of fear and famine and loss of property, life, and crops. Give good news to those who patiently endure — who say, when struck by a disaster, “Surely to Allah we belong and to Him we will [all] return.”
The message continued:
To the honourable people of Gaza,
After recent events, the temporary ceasefire, and ahead of Trump’s enforced plan that will impose your displacement — whether you accept it or not — we make a final appeal to those willing to cooperate with us in exchange for aid. We will not hesitate to help.
Reconsider your choices, for the world map will not change if all of Gaza’s people vanish. No one will care, no one will ask about you. You are left alone to face your inevitable fate. Even Iran cannot protect itself, let alone you. You have seen what happened with your own eyes. The US and Europe do not care about Gaza. Even your Arab countries — our allies — provide us with money, oil, and weapons while sending you only coffins.
The game is nearly over; only a little remains.
Whoever wishes to save themselves before it’s too late, we are here to stay until Judgment Day.
This year, despite the supposed ceasefire, the Israelis have curtailed the flow of aid into the enclave during Ramadan.
The number of daily aid trucks is now down to five from the already insufficient 25.
Authorities in Gaza have warned that these Israeli moves are severely affecting the efforts of the aid organisations to feed the hungry. Moreover, the lack of supplies in the enclave has renewed the spectre of famine.
Much to the despair of Palestinian widows and their starving children, the “ceasefire” in the Gaza Strip remains in name only, and things are only getting worse.
“The suffering is only increasing,” the widow Aya told QNN. “We had hoped a ceasefire would restore life after years of relentless killing and starvation, but the reality on the ground is the exact opposite.”
