By a member of Action Against Hunger’s nutrition team in Gaza
This story stems from my work with Action Against Hunger in Gaza and from a conversation on the ground with Aya Kassa (name changed for security reasons), a displaced mother of six and a participant in our programs.
Three years of war are not just 1,095 days on a calendar; they are the exact amount of time it takes to see an entire life destroyed. As a humanitarian worker with Action Against Hunger in Gaza, I have accompanied countless families who have lost everything due to the conflict.
Aya is one of them. On October 7, 2023, the violence forced her and her family to flee their home in the northern Gaza Strip, leaving behind her husband’s business and the sense of security they had built for their six children. I remember my encounter with her with absolute clarity. It was around 9 a.m. on a hot morning last September. Our conversation took place inside the small canvas tent within the camp for displaced people that is now her family’s home. The noise outside was constant and intense, and throughout our conversation, we were surrounded by the roar of cars, people’s shouts, and the murmur of neighbors—a reflection of the extreme overcrowding in the camp.
Through Aya’s eyes, I understood what the world seems to forget from a distance: enduring a year of bombs is not the same as enduring two years of misery, which is not the same as enduring three years of the absolute destruction of one’s existence.
Inside Aya’s tent, the austerity was overwhelming: there were only two mattresses and a few pillows, and the kitchen and bathroom shared the same open-air space. Yet her presence exuded serenity. She wore her yilbab and traditional headscarf, and despite the harshness of her surroundings, her voice was warm and she never stopped smiling.
Aya tells me about her life before the war: a newly purchased apartment with a garden, a thriving business, and her children attending a private school. When she evacuated after the conflict escalated, she took only two blankets, expecting to return in a few days. It’s heartbreaking to think that those two blankets were her entire family’s only source of warmth during six months of bitter cold.
Over time, she lost loved ones, her home, her car, and her savings. Her family went from stability to forced displacement and unsanitary living conditions. A gradual decline that has now led them to eke out a meager existence in this tent where we’re talking—where rainwater seeps through the floor and her children are exposed to dampness, insects, and stray dogs.
Her story confirms what I have seen so many times while traveling through the settlements: that prolonged conflict gradually erodes any means of livelihood. Three years later, what seemed like a temporary crisis is now a daily struggle for survival.
International technical reports no longer refer to a “famine” in Gaza. However, when Aya nostalgically recalls the family meals with meat and vegetables from three years ago, I realize that the absence of a technical term does not mean that families have stopped going hungry: more than 1.4 million people like her continue to face critical food insecurity.
When it all began, she tells me, her body still had strength despite the lack of food. But after three years of deprivation, her physical resilience has been exhausted. She confides that she spends sleepless nights wondering how she’ll feed her children the next day. They eat once a day, usually lentils. Her children collect plastic from the street to use for cooking since there is no gas, and they walk long distances just for a jug of water. This is how a food system is destroyed: fields, markets, and water networks are devastated. Communities are deprived of the ability to produce, trade, cook, and consume their own food, until they become entirely dependent on external aid.
But today’s hunger is not the only concern. Restoring farmland, markets, and water systems will take years—long after the guns have fallen silent. The physical and emotional aftermath of this devastation will linger for decades.
As I watch Aya cradle her sleeping baby in her arms, I wonder what the future holds for an entire generation born and raised entirely in the midst of war.
She tells me she became pregnant amid the bombings. She suffered from severe anemia, fainted in the street, and her baby was born with acute malnutrition into a world in ruins. This baby has known nothing but this conflict.
She confides in me that today, when they sleep, her children’s dreams revolve around finding clean water or waiting in line at a community kitchen. Three years without nutritious food, without adequate healthcare, without decent housing, without schools, and under constant stress are irreversibly altering their physical and cognitive development. This is Gaza’s deepest and least visible scar: a generation born forever marked by a reality it never chose.
With nutritional support, hygiene supplies, and financial aid, the Action Against Hunger team in Gaza supported Aya until her baby overcame acute malnutrition. Today, the little girl turns one. Seeing her smile proves that aid works and restores hope to families.
For our teams on the ground, the experience in Gaza also serves as a learning opportunity for future crises. Having been present since the start of the conflict and having responded for years to an emergency of this magnitude has allowed us to identify what works, what obstacles we must anticipate, and how to adapt our response to situations of extreme need. This knowledge will be key to responding more effectively and quickly to future crises of similar severity and complexity.
After three years on the ground, our message is clear: we demand an immediate and effective ceasefire, protection for civilians, and the dignity they need to rebuild their lives. We also demand protection for humanitarian and health workers, as a halt to the bombings does not guarantee safe access for aid. As I say goodbye to Aya, I understand why we must stay here. She and her family deserve to live, not just survive. Because a decent roof over their heads, water, food, and peace are not privileges, but basic rights we should all have.
Action Against Hunger leads the global movement to end hunger. We innovate solutions, advocate for change, and reach 21 million people every year with proven hunger prevention and treatment programs. As a nonprofit that works across 56 countries, our 8,900 dedicated staff members partner with communities to address the root causes of hunger, including climate change, conflict, inequity, and emergencies. We strive to create a world free from hunger, for everyone, for good.
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