From Dr Hatem Yousef Abu Zayda
On Sept 14, 2025, I was displaced for the 14th time since the start of the war, this time from Gaza City to a tiny section of an old, crumbling house in Al-Zawaida, in the central area of the Gaza Strip.
I managed to rent it, after tremendous difficulty, for US$300, a place that was worth no more than US$70 before the war.
The house consists of two small rooms with a severely damaged roof, barely 12 square meters in total. There is no running water, neither for drinking nor for daily use, forcing us to carry water in plastic containers from hundreds of meters away.
There is no internet access. To connect, we must travel long distances to areas where minimal connectivity might exist. There’s also no source of electricity. We’re among the “lucky” ones who own a 100-amp battery, which we use to power small 2–3 watt LED lights for a few hours each day.
Around 30% of Gaza’s population live under these same conditions, while 60% endure even worse – living in tents or makeshift tent camps.
As for food, we haven’t seen or tasted meat, fruits, vegetables, eggs, or dairy products in nearly two years since the war began.
The Israeli occupation has blocked the entry of all such essentials, allowing only limited dry and canned food supplies to trickle in at long intervals. Occasionally, humanitarian aid like vitamin-fortified peanut butter arrives, mainly for hospitals.
Our daily meals rely on expensive local crops like molokhia, purslane, spinach, and eggplant, sold at US$7 to US$10 per kilo, grown in tiny plots squeezed between tents and bombed-out homes, under harsh and costly conditions.
We also depend on canned beans, peas, lentils, and dried legumes, all of which are very expensive (ranging from US$2 to US$4 per can).
The occupation has also banned the entry of fuel needed for hospital generators, clinics, and nurseries. Some small amounts are allowed in via the World Health Organization, but most residents are suffering from malnutrition and anaemia.
Personally, after months of dizziness, fatigue, and poor concentration, I finally managed to get a blood test two weeks ago. The results showed my haemoglobin level was just 10.8 – a clear indication of anaemia.
There is no cooking gas, so we rely on fires made from wood and plastic to cook food and heat water for bathing and laundry. The smoke and soot are toxic and carcinogenic. Just starting a fire and preparing meals is both physically exhausting and mentally distressing. Even wood and plastic are expensive, costing between US$4 to US$5 per kilo.
Very limited aid enters Gaza, donated by the Qatari, Egyptian, Jordanian, and Emirati Red Crescents, through Egypt. However, the occupation allows thieves, collaborators, and criminal gangs to steal these supplies and resell them on the black market at outrageous prices.
Perhaps the worst aspect of all is the complete collapse of healthcare services. There are no medicines in pharmacies. I was seriously injured as a civilian on Jan 1, 2024, during the early days of the war.
A few months ago, my doctor requested an MRI scan for my brain and spine (cervical and lumbar), but there wasn’t a single functioning MRI machine in all of Gaza. I eventually underwent a CT scan, which revealed dangerous spinal cord compression in the lower back — but the brain scan didn’t provide clear results.
The doctor told me I urgently need surgery to avoid permanent paralysis of my lower body. But he also informed me that surgeries are no longer being performed in Gaza hospitals, except in the most extreme cases, or I would have to pay an enormous sum that I simply can’t afford.
Just yesterday, I searched multiple pharmacies for medication to treat my migraine and suspected concussion symptoms, but none was available. This is the case for most medications here.
Transportation is nearly impossible due to the fuel blockade. We are forced to use donkey carts at a cost of at least US$1 per kilometre.
Despite my limited mobility, I often have to walk hundreds of metres under the scorching sun. This is the reality for nearly everyone in Gaza. Even moving from one location to another during displacement is a major ordeal, from packing up what little belongings remain, to finding and affording a transport vehicle, which can cost anywhere from US$300 to over US$1,000.
Even worse than transportation and the daily struggle to buy or sell anything is the near-total disappearance of usable currency. What little cash exists is old, worn, and insufficient. Sometimes I cancel purchases simply because no one has change.
Many vendors refuse to sell without exact amounts. We’re increasingly forced to rely on electronic bank apps, which charge inflated prices, or must convert digital funds into cash at outrageous fees of 30% to 40%.
And above all these are the terrifying, earth-shaking explosions from airstrikes and artillery that rain down daily.
The sounds are deafening and feel apocalyptic, especially in the early mornings. Every blast induces sheer panic among adults and children alike. Sometimes, warplanes carry out mock air raids – flying at low altitudes, mimicking an imminent strike – triggering extreme fear even when no bomb drops.
Dr Hatem Yousef Abu Zayda is a Palestinian neuroscientist who trained in USM. An academic at the University of Gaza, he focuses on the effects of war and chronic stress on the brain, especially in children.
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.