Nour Abu Rokba is a writer and media graduate from Gaza. The Institute for Palestine Studies published her article, from July 31st.
I’ve been trying to write this article for two days now, but I can’t put the words together. Every time I begin to write, severe dizziness stops me from continuing. Lately, I’ve been living with a constant sense of imbalance, experiencing now what I used to hear about from elderly people and diabetics: “My blood sugar crashed.” I never really understood what they meant, nor did I try to understand. All we used to do when we saw someone in that state was quickly grab some sugar or sweets for them. But when I felt it myself, no one rushed to help me or bring me anything sweet, not because they’re being neglectful, but because, like myself, they can’t stand up. We’re all dizzy now, and there’s no sugar to be found, no sweets anywhere. I don’t listen to my mother when she tells me to drink more water, because I don’t want to have to use the bathroom constantly when I can barely get up and walk. So, I console myself with a serving of sleep, just to delude myself into forgetting how unbearably hungry I am.
We in Gaza are more than two million starving citizens, living under total siege imposed by the Israeli occupation for nearly two years now. Journalists are part of this society and are starving like everyone else, but their ordeal is harsher. They work around the clock, expend immense energy covering events, and have to walk constantly. Some have bartered their possessions for food. Our colleague, journalist Bashir Abu Shaar, announced that he traded his camera for a bag of flour: even though the camera was precious to him, he could not watch his children die before his eyes. The Palestinian photographer Fadi Thabet did the same, offering his archive, “20 Years of Gaza’s Visual Memory,” in exchange for a bag of flour to feed his hungry children.
For nearly 22 months, journalists in Gaza have used every available platform to convey their reality, filming, reporting, and writing in all the world’s languages. Nothing goes undocumented: no massacre takes place without them being the first to record it, despite being direct targets. The occupation has killed hundreds of them, gravely injured many more, and continues to threaten and incite against them. When the famine reached its peak, the hunger claimed them as it claimed everyone else. We saw Al Jazeera’s Gaza correspondent, Anas al-Sharif, who has now been martyred, in tears as he watched citizens collapse from hunger at the gates of Al-Shifa Hospital – all while enduring the same suffering himself. Speaking about his own experience and that of his colleagues, he said “they wander through empty markets for days, searching for anything to feed themselves and their families.”
We asked several field journalists about their continued coverage despite being as hungry as everyone else. Islam Bader, Al Araby TV’s correspondent in Gaza, said: “Today, I’m a hungry journalist, yet at the same time I try to amplify the voices of those suffering from hunger. Perhaps the only difference between me and them is that I carry a camera, not a loaf of bread, but the pain is the same.”
Bader added: “I know all too well what it means for a child to go to sleep hungry because I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and because at times, I’ve gone to bed the same way myself. It’s not easy to talk about suffering while living it, and sometimes I have to stop filming because my voice chokes, not from the brutality of the scene, but because I feel it deep inside me.”
Concluding, Bader shared: “Every time I raise the camera, I feel that I’m not only documenting what happens, but also carrying the trust of the hungry who can’t scream, the sick person can’t find medicine, and the mother who conceals her tears from her children. Sometimes, I stop before a scene, unsure whether to film it or to weep over it, but I keep going because what we live in Gaza isn’t just a news story. It’s an entire life condensed into a single image, a word, or a fleeting sigh on live broadcast.”
Hunger Broadcasted
As for Chinese TV correspondent and photographer Mohammad Qita, he put it bluntly: “I truly can’t keep up with my journalistic work. I’m hungry and I’m not ashamed to say it. I’m unable to meet my own needs or those of my family. We can barely find a loaf of bread for the day, and sometimes, we find nothing at all.”
Qita feels extreme exhaustion and profound weakness, so much so that he cannot lift his phone to answer us. This is what he fears and considers dangerous: in the prime of his youth, he finds himself weak, unable to do anything. For four days now, ever since the markets closed, he has found nothing to eat, and this ordeal forced him to the hospital for an IV drip to help him regain his physical balance.
He goes on: “We can’t continue; not as journalists, not as citizens, not as messengers. I try to carry the message through social media while staying in my place, because I no longer have the energy to go out. It’s as if each one of us has aged years. I feel like an elderly man, and on top of that, I’ve lost about 30 kilograms since the war began, which comes at the cost of losing vital nutrients from my body.”
He pointed out that he was forced to drink water mixed with salt, in an attempt to replace the sodium his body is losing, given the absence of the most basic food necessities: “We all sleep hungry.”
Qita also recounts how he recently went to a food aid drop-off point, trying to secure a loaf of bread after his brother’s children asked him to. Although he’s a journalist and people often see him as someone who can “work miracles,” as he himself described, reality is different.
“I reached the place, and about a kilometer separated us from the occupation forces. The scene was horrifying, with continuous gunfire as the aid was splattered with blood, and dozens of martyrs. I did what I had to do; I documented the scene and came back empty-handed. No flour, not even a carton of food.”
Qita confirmed that death now threatens anyone attempting to reach aid: every attempt to get a bag of flour means carries with it a 50 percent rate chance of survival. . He refuses to compete with others for aid while wearing his Press vest, feeling it does not befit his humanitarian profession. Meanwhile, most of his income goes toward securing the bare minimum of food for his family.
Daily Struggle
This sharp conflict between professional duty and human need doesn’t burden Qita alone. As starvation worsens in Gaza, many journalists face a double dilemma: how do they fulfill their professional responsibilities while their concern for their families weighs heavily on them?
In this context, Al Jazeera Net’s Gaza correspondent Yosra Aklouk said: “Working in written humanitarian journalism demands intense mental effort and high concentration, which has become nearly impossible under the current conditions. In the first days of the war, I would finish a report within two days. Now, I need a whole week to write with the same quality because my mental energy has dropped to a quarter of what it was. This comes due to the lack of suitable conditions and the scarcity of stimulants like caffeine and instant coffee, which I consider essential to my work. On top of this, there’s my constant, endless worry about my children. I’m the wife of a martyr and mother of three children, facing massive responsibilities that force me to provide at least the minimum food requirements just to keep my children alive. I’m not looking for nutritious food that’s good for them; I’m searching for whatever keeps them fed and standing.” Between writing reports and documenting suffering, Yosra Aklouk’s mind remains occupied all the time: “The night before, I lie on my pillow and think: What can I possibly feed them tomorrow?”
She continued: “On my way back from work, I bought a kilo of potatoes and hid them from my children to surprise them with a meal they love — ‘French Fries’. Even though I knew another battle awaited me since cooking oil now costs over 80 Shekels ($24), just feeling like I had secured a meal eased my anxiety.” She added, “Even buying bread has become a meal plan postponed until the next day. I think, ‘Will the bread be enough for them tomorrow?’ The pressure of securing food now follows me to my workplace as I can’t get through the day without knowing if dinner will be waiting for them in the evening.”
Aklouk added: “The anxiety I live with scatters me completely and shackles my thinking and focus. I fall into an extremely difficult psychological state when I’m late submitting a report by several days, and when I finally turn in the assignment, I hold a private celebration within myself for this tremendous achievement.”
She explains: “I have transformed from a journalist who tells the story into being a living part of it, living every detail with all its hunger, oppression, and helplessness. When I write, I am hungry; my mother can’t find flour, and I search for some duqqa [herbal spread] to make a simple sandwich before leaving for work. I feel the hunger as I write about it, and I record the pain as I live it. This is what makes our voice honest and powerful — because we are simply of these people. This is also why our colleagues’ tears in front of the cameras are real; they are not acting. They’re starving, enduring, and conveying the truth despite the psychological and physical bleeding.”
What Aklouk says sums up a broader reality lived by journalists in Gaza: they have become part of the genocide they cover.
Moment of Collapse
Alkofiya TV correspondent Sally Thabet recounts her personal experience with starvation, explaining that, like the rest of Gaza’s citizens, she lives with her daughters under the crushing weight of the enforced hunger the occupation imposes. She confirms that her physical suffering during live coverage wasn’t some sudden emergency but the direct result of food shortage and daily exhaustion.
Thabet recalls the moment she collapsed on air during coverage: “That day, I walked to work without having breakfast. Lunch from the day before was the last meal I ate, which lacked any healthy nutrients. Add to that the intense heat, no cold water, and working inside an unbearably hot tent — everything made the situation worse.” She continued: “During my fourth live broadcast, I felt dizzy and nauseous, my heart raced, and my blood pressure dropped. I realized I was in the same state as everyone suffering from hunger, so I excused myself before the TV anchor, stopped broadcasting, and allowed my body to collapse.”
Thabet didn’t give herself any more time to collapse, as there’s no time for leisure. Instead, she headed to the market to buy a morsel of food to ease her family’s hunger, but found nothing due to repeated strikes in light of outrageous prices and returned empty-handed: “I try to secure food for my daughters, even if I have to eat less myself, and that is my first concern.”
Within this reality, she spoke about what drives her to keep doing fieldwork: “For us journalists, this isn’t just work, it’s also a sacred duty. If we don’t carry this truth to the world, no one will care about the massacres and crimes happening in Gaza. So, we carry a national and moral responsibility to deliver the story until the very last moment.”
She also spoke about working with deep passion and love, making sure to share, whether through her media platform or her personal social media pages, human stories that reflect the suffering of civilians and the crimes committed against them in Gaza.
She added, “Starvation is the new weapon Israel uses against Palestinians. It has exhausted and drained us, especially amid conditions that surround us, such as displacement, destruction, and dangerous places. All these factors affect our psychological state, but we always strive to gather our strength and remain in the field.”
From another angle, Palestinian journalist Imad Zakout summed up the biggest challenge facing journalists in Gaza: “What we’re living is a battle between duty and duty; between feeding your children and searching for flour for them, and fulfilling your professional duty to cover this starvation and slaughter. What we live is a daily struggle between this and that.”
A Final Appeal
In an effort to resist hunger and document the people’s suffering, several journalists in Gaza have resorted to drinking water mixed with salt, expressing how starvation has intensified in the Strip as a result of the ongoing Israeli blockade and aggression.
Journalist Wael Abo Omar explained that the campaign is a message of solidarity to the world and journalists everywhere. He continued: “We in Gaza have been covering events for more than two years, living under brutally harsh conditions, and we’ve now reached the point where we drink water and salt just to take the edge off our hunger.”
Abo Omar called on journalists around the world to show their solidarity in any way they can: “Support us with a photo, with a word, with a symbolic gesture, or even by fasting for a few hours, so that Gaza’s hungry voice reaches the entire world.”
July 31 2025 – Nour Abu Rokba
Source: Institute for Palestine Studies
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