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‘THE HUNGER GAMES’: INSIDE ISRAEL’S AID DEATH TRAPS FOR
STARVING GAZANS  
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By Ahmed Ahmed and Ibtisam Mahdi
June 20, 2025
+972 Magazine
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_ Near-daily Israeli massacres at food distribution sites have killed
over 400 Palestinians in the past month alone. Survivors describe
stepping over corpses to get their hands on a bag of flour: ‘What
choice do we have?’ _

Thousands of Palestinians walk along Al-Rashid Street carrying bags
of flour after aid trucks entered through the Zikim area in northern
Gaza city on June 17, 2025. Several of those seeking aid were shot by
Israeli forces., Yousef Zaanoun /Activestills

 

In the early hours of June 11, before sunrise, 19-year-old Hatem
Shaldan and his brother Hamza, 23, went to wait for aid trucks near
the Netzarim Corridor in the central Gaza Strip. They hoped to return
with a bag of white flour for their family of five. Instead, Hamza
returned with his younger brother’s body wrapped in a white burial
shroud. 

The Shaldan family had lived virtually without food for nearly two
months due to Israel’s blockade, crammed into a
classroom-turned-shelter in eastern Gaza City. Their home, once
nearby, was destroyed completely by an Israeli airstrike in January
2024. 

At around 1:30 a.m., the two brothers joined dozens of starving
Palestinians on Al-Rashid Street along the shore upon hearing that
trucks carrying flour would enter the Strip. Two hours later, they
heard shouts of “The trucks are coming!” followed immediately by
the sound of Israeli artillery shelling. 

“We didn’t care about the shelling,” Hamza recounted to +972
Magazine. “We just ran toward the trucks’ lights.” 

But in the chaos of the crowd, the brothers got separated. Hamza
managed to grab a 25kg bag of flour. When he returned to their
agreed-upon meeting spot, Hatem wasn’t there. 

“I kept calling his phone, over and over, without answer,” Hamza
said. “My heart ached. I began seeing dead bodies being carried over
to where I was. I refused to believe my brother might be among
them.” 

A Palestinian man is seen wounded as hundreds more walk along
Al-Rashid Street carrying bags of flour after aid trucks entered
through the Zikim area in northern Gaza City, June 17, 2025. Several
of those seeking aid were shot by Israeli forces. (Yousef
Zaanoun/Activestills)

Hours after Hatem went missing, Hamza received a call from a friend: a
photo of an unidentified body had surfaced in local Whatsapp groups,
taken at Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir Al-Balah, central Gaza.
Hamza sent a cousin — a tuk-tuk driver — to check. “Half an hour
later, he called back, his voice shaking. He told me it was
Hatem.” 

Upon hearing this, Hamza passed out. When he came to, people were
pouring water on his face. He rushed to the hospital, where a man
wounded in the same artillery strike explained what had happened:
Hatem and about 15 others had tried to hide in tall grass when Israeli
tanks opened fire. 

“Hatem was hit by shrapnel in his legs,” the man said. “He bled
for hours. Dogs circled them. Eventually, when more aid trucks
arrived, people helped move the bodies onto one of them.”

In total, 25 Palestinians were killed that morning
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for aid trucks on Al-Rashid Street. Hamza brought Hatem’s body back
to Gaza City and buried him beside their mother, who was killed by an
Israeli sniper in August 2024. Their older brother, Khalid, 21, had
died months earlier — in a January airstrike while evacuating
wounded civilians on his horse cart. 

“Hatem was the light of our family,” Hamza said. “After we lost
our mother and Khalid, he became everyone’s favorite — including
my grandmother and aunts. He visited them and helped them. My
grandmother collapsed when she saw his body. She still weeps.” 

Hatem had been a skilled car accessories technician with dreams of
opening his own shop. “He was kind and generous and loved children;
he always gave them sweets,” Hamza said. “Everyone who knew him
came to his funeral. May God hold the occupation accountable for
stealing our lives, just because we are from Gaza.”

Thousands of Palestinians walk along Al-Rashid Street carrying bags of
flour after aid trucks entered through the Zikim area in northern Gaza
City, June 17, 2025. Several of those seeking aid were shot by Israeli
forces. (Yousef Zaanoun /Activestills)

Near-daily massacres

As the world’s attention turns to the war between Israel and Iran
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Israel simultaneously cutting off internet and telecommunications
services, imposing effective media and information blackouts
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millions of Palestinians — Israel’s attacks on starving Gazans
awaiting aid have only intensified. 

After two months
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a single drop of food, medicine, or fuel entering Gaza, a trickle of
white flour and canned goods has been allowed in since late May. Most
of it has gone to sites in Rafah and the Netzarim Corridor managed by
the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation
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guarded by private American security contractors and Israeli soldiers.
On June 10, small shipments also began arriving via aid trucks
operated by the World Food Programme (WFP). 

But with hunger deepening, people no longer wait for the trucks to
move safely past Israeli troops. Instead, they rush toward them the
moment they appear, desperate to grab whatever they can before
supplies vanish. Tens of thousands gather at the distribution points,
sometimes for days in advance, and many go home empty-handed. 

Starving civilians gather in massive crowds, waiting for permission to
approach. In many instances, Israeli troops have opened fire on the
masses — and even during distribution itself — killing dozens as
they try to collect a few kilos of flour or canned goods to bring home
in what Palestinians have dubbed “The Hunger Games.” 

Since May 27, well over 400 Palestinians have been killed and over
3,000 wounded while waiting for aid, according to Gaza Civil Defense
spokesperson Mahmoud Basel. The deadliest single attack
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on June 17, when Israeli forces fired tank shells, machine guns, and
drones into a crowd of Palestinians in Khan Younis, killing 70 and
injuring hundreds. 

The limited aid trickling into Gaza falls far short of meeting even
the most basic needs. As a result, many residents are forced to buy
supplies from others who managed to get their hands on some food at
distribution sites and are now reselling it in a desperate attempt to
afford other essentials.

A Palestinian man carries a bag of flower on Al-Rashid Street, near
the Netzarim Corridor, June 16, 2025. (Yousef Zaanoun/ActiveStills)

‘People were being killed, but everyone kept running for flour’

The day after the massacre on Al-Rashid Street that claimed Hatem
Shaldan’s life, even larger crowds gathered in the same spot,
including 17-year-old Muhammad Abu Sharia, who arrived with four
relatives. The few aid trucks that arrived that week gave a sliver of
hope to starving families. 

Abu Sharia lives with his family of nine in their partially destroyed
home in southern Gaza City, the only son among six sisters. “My
family didn’t want me to go at first,” he said. “But we’ve
been starving for two months.” 

At 10 p.m., he made his way to Al-Rashid Street, where crowds had
gathered on the sand near the shore, waiting for aid trucks. People
shared warnings in hushed voices: “Stay behind the trucks. Don’t
run in front — you might get crushed.” 

Abu Sharia was shocked by what he saw. “Elderly people, women,
children, all just waiting for a chance at flour.” Then, without
warning, artillery shells began falling around them. 

Panic broke out. Some fled. Others, like Abu Sharia, sprinted toward
the trucks. “People were being killed and wounded, but no one
stopped. Everyone just kept running for the flour.” 

He managed to grab a bag lying beside a dead body, but only made it a
few meters before a gang of four men with knives surrounded him and
threatened to kill him if he didn’t hand it over. He let it go. 

Still hoping to reach another truck, he waited hours longer. Then he
saw people shouting, “More aid has arrived!” The trucks rolled in,
barely slowing down as crowds swarmed them. “I saw a man fall under
one and get his head crushed.” With ambulances too far away to
approach for fear of Israeli airstrikes, the wounded and dead were
dragged away by donkey carts and tuk-tuks.

Palestinians carry away a wounded man hit by Israeli fire while trying
to get food aid on Al-Rashid Street, near the Netzarim Corridor, June
16, 2025. (Yousef Zaanoun/ActiveStills)

Abu Sharia was the only one from his extended family able to bring
back a bag of flour. His family, worried sick, was relieved to see
him. They immediately baked bread and shared it with relatives. 

“No one risks their life like this unless they have no other
choice,” he said. “We go because we’re starving. We go because
there is nothing else.”

‘One young man was blown in half. Others had their limbs ripped
off’

Yousef Abu Jalila, 38, used to rely on humanitarian aid distributed
through the WFP to feed his family of 10. But no such package has
arrived in over two months, and the price of what little remains in
the markets has skyrocketed. 

Now sheltering in a tent in Al-Yarmouk Stadium in central Gaza City,
after their home in the Sheikh Zayed neighborhood was destroyed during
the Israeli army’s October 2024 incursion into northern Gaza, he
told +972: “My children cry to me that they’re hungry, and I have
nothing to feed them.” 

With no white flour or remnants of canned food, Abu Jalila has no
choice but to show up at the aid distribution points or wait for the
aid trucks. “I know I might be one of those killed while trying to
get food for my family,” Abu Jalila told +972. “But I go, because
my family is starving.”

On June 14, Abu Jalila left the tent camp with a group of neighbors
after hearing rumors that aid trucks might arrive in the Equestrian
club area in the northwestern part of the Gaza Strip. When he got
there, he was surprised to find thousands of others hoping to bring
back food for their families. 

As the hours passed, the crowd drifted closer to an Israeli military
position. Then, without warning, several Israeli artillery shells
exploded in the middle of the gathering. 

Palestinians carry away a wounded man hit by Israeli fire while trying
to get food aid on Al-Rashid Street, near the Netzarim Corridor, June
16, 2025. (Yousef Zaanoun/ActiveStills)

“I still don’t know how I survived it,” Abu Jalila said.
“Dozens of people were killed
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their bodies torn to pieces. Many others were wounded.” 

In the chaos, some fled in panic while others scrambled to load the
dead and injured onto donkey carts as there were no ambulances or cars
nearby. “One young man was blown in half; others had their limbs
ripped off,” Abu Jalila recalled. “These were innocent people,
unarmed, just trying to get food. Why kill them this way?” 

Shaken and empty-handed, Abu Jalila walked four hours back to Gaza
City, his legs trembling. When he reached the tent, his children were
already outside, waiting. “They were hoping I’d bring food,” he
said. “I wished I could die rather than see the disappointment in
their eyes.” 

He vowed never to return — but with nothing left to feed his family
and no aid distributed since, he knows he’ll have to try again.

‘We knew we could die. But what choice do we have?’

Similar massacres have occurred in southern Gaza. Zahiya Al-Samour,
44, could barely stand after running over two kilometers while fleeing
an Israeli attack on crowds gathered for aid in the Tahlia area of
central Khan Younis. 

Struggling to catch her breath, she told +972: “My husband died of
cancer last year. I can’t provide for my children. There’s no food
in the house, not since the blockade and the halt in aid deliveries
that used to sustain us during the war.”

Driven by desperation, Al-Samour went to Tahlia on the night of June
16, hoping to be among the first in line for the arriving aid trucks.
Along with thousands of others, she camped out along the road. 

Thousands of Palestinians walk along Al-Rashid Street carrying bags of
flour after aid trucks entered through the Zikim area in northern Gaza
city on June 17, 2025. Several of those seeking aid were shot by
Israeli forces. (Yousef Zaanoun/Activestills)

But the next morning, as people waited near Al-Rashid Street, tank
shells suddenly rained down on the crowd, killing
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50 people. 

“I saw people losing limbs, bodies torn apart,” she recounted.
“Three of my neighbors from Al-Zaneh [north of Khan Younis] were
killed. Their bodies were unrecognizable.”

Though she escaped without physical injury, the trauma lingers. “My
heart is still trembling,” she said. “I watched people die while
others bled on donkey carts; there were no ambulances.” 

She returned empty-handed to the tent she erected in Al-Mawasi after
the Israeli army ordered her neighborhood to evacuate. “My children
are hungry,” she said, her voice cracking. “They’re waiting for
me to bring food. I don’t know what to tell them.”

At Nasser Hospital, 22-year-old Mohammad Al-Basyouni lies recovering
from a gunshot wound to his back. He was shot on May 25 while trying
to collect food in the Al-Shakoush area of Rafah. 

“I woke up at dawn and left home [in the Fash Farsh area, between
Rafah and Khan Younis] with one goal: to get flour for my sick
father,” he told +972. “My mother begged me not to go, but I
insisted. We had no food. My father is ill, and we needed help.

“I left around 6 a.m., and soon after I arrived, gunfire broke
out,” Al-Basyouni recounted. “I was hit while fleeing — a sniper
shot me in the back.” He was rushed to surgery in a tuk-tuk. “I
survived, but others didn’t. Some came back in body bags.”

He paused, then added quietly: “We knew we could die. But what
choice do we have? Hunger is a killer. We want the war and siege to
end. We want this nightmare to be over. I came back wounded, and I
brought nothing home. Now my sick father has lost his only
provider.” 

Palestinians carry away a wounded man hit by Israeli fire while trying
to get food aid on Al-Rashid Street, near the Netzarim Corridor, June
16, 2025. (Yousef Zaanoun/ActiveStills)

‘We looked like animals waiting for the feeding lot to open’

Despite living in central Gaza City after being displaced with his
family from Beit Hanoun, 48-year-old Mahmoud Al-Kafarna set out on
June 15 for the aid center run by GHF in far southwest Khan Younis. 

His journey took him hours on foot to Nuseirat, then by tuk-tuk to
Fash Farsh, a known gathering spot for those seeking food. He and
others walked from 7:30 p.m. until 2:30 a.m., eventually sheltering at
Mu’awiyah Mosque until the Israeli checkpoint opened.

At dawn, they approached a sand barrier guarded by Israeli forces. A
voice from behind the barrier barked through a loudspeaker: “The aid
center is closed. There is no distribution. You must go home.” 

Al-Kafarna, like many others, stayed put — familiar with these
tactics to thin the crowds. Then came the threats: “Leave or we open
fire,” followed by insults like, “You dogs.” 

Before they even finished their warning, Israeli forces began firing
from their position about one kilometer away from where the crowd had
gathered. “Bullets flew overhead,” Al-Kafarna recounted. “Dozens
were hit. No one could lift their heads.” Some youth managed to
evacuate the wounded to a nearby Red Cross facility, but many
didn’t make it
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When a second announcement allowed entry half an hour later, the crowd
surged forward, running two kilometers with hands raised and white
bags lifted — a gesture of surrender. Then he and others navigated
another two kilometers past the checkpoint, guarded by heavily armed
private contractors. 

“You’ll find them exactly as Hollywood portrays them: armed to the
teeth, wearing dark sunglasses and bulletproof vests marked with the
American flag, earpieces behind their ears, their weapons aimed
directly at our bare chests,” Al-Kafarna recalled. “They shoot at
the ground beneath the feet of anyone who tries to approach the aid,
which is placed behind a hill they’re stationed on.”

When they finally reached the aid stockpile behind a hill, “it was
chaos,” Al-Kafarna recalled. “No order, no fairness, just
survival.” 

To avoid being trampled or attacked, people carried knives or moved in
coordinated groups. “Once you grabbed a box, you emptied it into
your bag and ran. If you stopped, you’d be robbed or crushed.” 

What did he manage to take home? “Two kilos of lentils, some pasta,
salt, flour, oil, a few cans of beans.” Al-Kafarna paused, eyes
heavy. “Was it worth it? The bullets, the bodies, the crawl through
death? This is how far we’ve fallen, begging for survival at the
barrel of a gun.

“We looked like animals waiting for the feeding lot to open in a
barn devoid of morality or compassion,” he continued. “Hunger has
driven us to seek food from the hands of our enemy — food wrapped in
humiliation and disgrace — after once living with dignity.”

AHMED AHMED is a pseudonym for a journalist from Gaza City who asked
to remain anonymous for fear of reprisal.

IBTISAM MAHDI is a freelance journalist from Gaza specializing in
reporting about social issues, especially concerning women and
children. She also works with feminist organizations in Gaza on
reporting and communications.

OUR TEAM AT +972 MAGAZINE HAS BEEN DEVASTATED BY THE HORRIFIC EVENTS
OF THIS LATEST WAR. THE WORLD IS REELING FROM ISRAEL’S UNPRECEDENTED
ONSLAUGHT ON GAZA, INFLICTING MASS DEVASTATION AND DEATH UPON BESIEGED
PALESTINIANS, AS WELL AS THE ATROCIOUS ATTACK AND KIDNAPPINGS BY HAMAS
IN ISRAEL ON OCTOBER 7. OUR HEARTS ARE WITH ALL THE PEOPLE AND
COMMUNITIES FACING THIS VIOLENCE. 

We are in an extraordinarily dangerous era in Israel-Palestine. The
bloodshed has reached extreme levels of brutality and threatens to
engulf the entire region. Emboldened settlers in the West Bank, backed
by the army, are seizing the opportunity to intensify their attacks on
Palestinians. The most far-right government in Israel’s history is
ramping up its policing of dissent, using the cover of war to silence
Palestinian citizens and left-wing Jews who object to its policies.

This escalation has a very clear context, one that +972 has spent the
past 14 years covering: Israeli society’s growing racism and
militarism, entrenched occupation and apartheid, and a normalized
siege on Gaza.

We are well positioned to cover this perilous moment – but we need
your help to do it. This terrible period will challenge the humanity
of all of those working for a better future in this land. Palestinians
and Israelis are already organizing and strategizing to put up the
fight of their lives.

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