starvation in gaza;

At the end of our street is al-Sahaba market. It is no longer somewhere to fetch food.

It is now quiet and gray, a place where the people are often greeted with shelves as empty as their stomachs.

Since 2 March, Israel has – with rare exceptions – not allowed aid and food goods to enter Gaza. Famine is once again haunting us.

Every other day, my family gathers around a single pot of either plain lentils or clumped pasta. We only eat to survive.

Seeing al-Sahaba market stirs my memory.

Back in the sixth grade, I used to play football in al-Sahaba street beside the market every afternoon with Mahmoud, Karam, Abdallah and Yazen – my childhood friends.

We played football until sunset when our parents would call us home.

It is the same street where my childhood friends and I used to chase after water trucks, clinging to the back as we rushed late on our way to school.

In college, I would walk that same street at night, heading to Galaxy Café by the sea with my friends Hussien, Islam and Belal to watch a football game whenever there was one.

I refused to take a taxi home. I preferred to walk each friend to their doorstep, one by one, before going home alone.............more...........