DaysofPal – In the Bureij refugee area in central Gaza, Maisoon al-Barbarawi greets the holy month of Ramadan inside a tent that has become her family’s home. Simple decorations hang from its worn ceiling, and colorful drawings line the fabric walls. Camp residents prepared them to mark the arrival of the month.
“We brought you decorations and a small lantern,” Maisoon tells her nine-year-old son, Hasan, smiling through visible exhaustion. Buying him a Ramadan lantern was a small victory.
“My means are limited, but what matters is that the children feel happy,” she says, expressing cautious hope. She wanted the decorations to soften the grief that had defined the past two years of war.
Known in the camp as Umm Mohammed, the 52-year-old mother of two says her sons, aged 15 and nine, are her entire world. “Every day they are safe is a day worth gratitude and joy,” she says, pride mixed with fear shaped by months of violence.
This Ramadan carries a different atmosphere. A ceasefire that began in October 2025 has brought relative calm compared with the most intense periods of fighting, which left more than 70,000 Palestinians dead. Still, Maisoon says the fear has not vanished.
Creating Joy Amid Hardship
“The situation is not completely calm. Shelling still happens from time to time. But compared to before, things are less intense,” she explains.
She volunteers in camp activities, helping prepare bread and arranging dates and water for distribution shortly before the call to prayer on the first day of Ramadan.
“This is the third Ramadan in displacement. We lost our homes, our families, and many loved ones,” she says. Her house in southeastern Gaza was destroyed at the start of the war. She fled with her husband, Hassouna, and their children, moving from camp to camp before settling in Bureij under harsh conditions.
“We are trying to create life and joy out of nothing. Ramadan and Eid come and go, but our situation remains the same.”
On the first day of fasting, she had not decided what to cook. Her budget allows only a modest meal. Still, she prepared her prayers.
“I pray that the war never returns. That is my daily prayer, that things calm down completely and that the army withdraw from our land,” she says, pointing to bullet holes in her tent caused by gunfire from an Israeli drone days earlier.
Dependence on Aid and Memories of Loss
Her anxiety is shared across Gaza. Last year, fighting resumed during the second week of Ramadan, leading to the closure of crossings and a halt to food aid. The result was a severe food crisis that lasted months.
“People tell us to store flour and food. They say the war is coming back,” Maisoon says. “Last Ramadan was famine and war together. I spent all my money during that famine.”
“My little son used to pray for death because he craved food. Can you imagine?”
This year’s Ramadan begins under a fragile truce. Reports from the World Food Programme and the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs indicate improved access to certain food items compared with the worst periods of fighting. Markets show more goods, though prices remain high and purchasing power has collapsed. Many families still depend on humanitarian aid.
Hanan al-Attar is one of them. On the first day of Ramadan, she received a food parcel from a relief organization in Deir el-Balah, where she has lived in displacement for a year after fleeing Beit Lahiya in northern Gaza.
Opening the package, she smiles while her grandchildren gather around. “Fava beans, halva, dates, tahini, oil, lentils, beans, cheese, mortadella. An excellent parcel,” she says.
“This will be perfect for tomorrow’s suhoor.”
Hanan, 55, shares a tent with 15 relatives. “Today we received assistance. This eases my worry about what we will break our fast with,” she says. Quietly, she admits she saved a small amount of money to prepare potatoes with minced meat and rice for the first iftar.
“Fasting requires protein,” she says softly. Cooking depends on what can be purchased that day. There is no electricity, no refrigerators, and no reliable infrastructure. “We buy what we need day by day so it does not spoil.”
Yet Ramadan also brings painful absence. Tears fill her eyes when she speaks of her two sons in their late twenties who were killed in a strike last year. One left behind a daughter not yet two years old.
“This is the first Ramadan after the martyrdom of my sons Abdullah and Mohammed,” she says. “When the family gathers and members are missing, you feel deep pain.”
Preparing meals inside the tent presents daily challenges. For two years, Hanan has cooked over an open fire. Wind disrupts the flames, and plastic sheets are used to shield the firewood. Cooking gas remains scarce.
“I filled an eight-kilo gas cylinder two months ago and saved it for Ramadan,” she says, revealing the carefully hidden cylinder. “Gas is like treasure. It would be difficult to light a fire at dawn.”
Despite the hardship, both women repeat the same wish. They want peace, stability, and a return home.
“In the end, everything passes,” Hanan says. “What matters is that we remain together in health and safety and that we do not live through famine or war again.”
Her final words echo across Gaza this Ramadan: “May this month bring goodness and peace for everyone, and may we return to our homes and our land.”
Shortlink for this post: https://daysofpalestine.ps/?p=72279
