Aid Workers Feel Helpless as Israel's Blockade Pushes Gaza Towards Famine 

Palestinians struggle to receive cooked food distributed at a community kitchen in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)
Palestinians struggle to receive cooked food distributed at a community kitchen in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)
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Aid Workers Feel Helpless as Israel's Blockade Pushes Gaza Towards Famine 

Palestinians struggle to receive cooked food distributed at a community kitchen in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)
Palestinians struggle to receive cooked food distributed at a community kitchen in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)

Two cases pushed nutritionist Rana Soboh to wits' end. First, a woman was rushed to a Gaza emergency room after fainting while she breastfed her newborn. She told Soboh she hadn't eaten in days.

The next day at another medical facility, Soboh found a severely malnourished 1-year-old boy weighing 5 kilograms (11 pounds), less than half what's normal. He hadn't grown any teeth. He was too weak to cry. The mother was also malnourished, "a skeleton, covered in skin."

When the mother asked for food, Soboh started crying uncontrollably.

A feeling of powerlessness has overwhelmed her. Soboh said sometimes she gives a little money or a bit of her own food. But now she, too, is struggling.

"This is the worst feeling, wanting to help but knowing you can't. I wished the earth would crack open and swallow me," she said. "What more cruel scenes does the world need to see?"

After months of trying to raise alarm, humanitarian workers are overflowing with anger, frustration and horror over Israel's nearly three-month blockade. The Associated Press spoke to over a dozen aid workers, some with years of experience in emergencies around the world and Palestinians who have worked through this and other wars.

They say what is happening in Gaza is a catastrophe, among the worst they have ever seen. It's more painful, they say, because it's man-made, caused by Israel cutting off all food, fuel, medicine and other supplies to the territory nearly 11 weeks ago.

The world's top authority on food crises last week warned of famine unless the blockade ends. Almost the entire population of around 2.3 million is acutely malnourished, and one in five Palestinians are on the brink of starvation, it said.

Israel late Sunday said it would allow a "basic" amount of food into Gaza, saying it didn't want a hunger crisis to jeopardize its new military offensive. It was not immediately clear how much would be allowed in, or when, or how.

Israel says it imposed the blockade to force Hamas to release hostages, a decision that rights groups call a "starvation tactic" and a violation of international law.

Aid workers are also wrestling with moves by Israel and the US to impose a new aid system, despite their objections. The system would limit distribution to a few locations and put it under armed private contractors — to prevent theft by Hamas, Israel says. Humanitarian workers say it won't meet Gaza's needs and violates humanitarian principles. The UN denies that significant aid diversion takes place.

The workers say they should be allowed to do their jobs. Some 170,000 metric tons of aid, including food, sits in trucks a few miles away, just inside Israel.

"The humanitarian community is well-experienced and well-versed in terms of treating malnutrition," said Rachel Cummings, emergency coordinator for Save the Children in Gaza. But "we need food into Gaza and to stop this, by design, attack on the children across the whole of Gaza."

Last lifelines are closing

Community kitchens are the last lifeline for most people, but more than 60% have shut down as supplies run out. Those still working can only produce 260,000 meals a day.

At his kitchen in Khan Younis, Nihad Abu Kush and 10 cooks prepare enough meals for about 1,000 people a day. More than 2,000 show up every morning, he said.

There are no lines, just a sea of people terrified of being among the half who will miss out. They push and shove, waving pots for portions from the vats of lentils, beans or peas in tomato sauce.

"I feel so helpless because the numbers grow every day," Abu Kush said. "I look at their faces and I am unable to do anything."

On a recent day, he gave up his own portion after he locked eyes with a child with an empty pot. "I was among the 1,000 who didn't get any," Abu Kush said.

A breaking point

Soboh, a nutritionist with MedGlobal, said her team stretches supplies of malnutrition treatments. Each can of baby formula is divided among several mothers. Therapy food portions are reduced by half. They give supplements only to children up to a year old, no longer up to 2.

But their fixes get overwhelmed in the rising need.

Staff try to dissuade mothers too weak to breastfeed from giving newborns sugar water, which can cause deadly diarrhea and infections, Soboh said.

But it's the mothers' only alternative. Flour sold in the markets is rotten, full of insects, devoid of nutrition and enormously expensive. Still, if they find the cash, parents take risky trips to get it just to fill their children's stomachs, she said.

Aid groups distributing water have reduced daily allowances to 5 liters a day per person, a third of the minimum in emergency conditions. Families must choose between using water to drink, wash hands or to cook, risking infection.

Mahmoud al-Saqqa, Oxfam's food security sector coordinator, said parents tell him their kids are dizzy from lack of food. They search through garbage for scraps.

"We see the hunger in their eyes," he said. His group, like most, distributed its last food stocks weeks ago.

One of Soboh's colleagues, Fady Abed, said desperate adults in his neighborhood ask him for the nutty-butter bars used to treat severely malnourished children to slake their own hunger.

"You feel like you let them down" refusing them, Abed said. He struggles to feed his own family.

"Fear of famine," he said, "is in every home."

Pumping air for 72 hours

Medical workers improvise alternatives as supplies run out and machines break down.

Al-Awda Hospital in northern Gaza lacks fuel and oxygen cylinders, so staff use hand-pumped respirators to keep patients breathing, said hospital director Mohammed Salha.

Staff took turns hand-pumping air for one patient for 72 hours straight. The patient still died.

"People are dying ... because we simply don't have the basics," he said.

At Nasser Hospital in southern Gaza, doctors don't have drills, sealant or titanium plates to treat the many skull fractures from bombardment.

They use expired gelatins to stop bleeding, but that doesn't stop spinal fluid from leaking, which can be deadly, said a foreign doctor volunteering with the aid group Medical Aid for Palestinians.

Sometimes, there's nothing he can do. He has child patients whose cochlear implants are defective, but there's no way to replace them. Without them, "they will never be able to develop normal speech," he said.

The doctor spoke on condition of anonymity in line with regulations from his organization to avoid reprisals from Israeli authorities.

Israel has cut in half the number of foreign doctors allowed into Gaza since March.

New aid system

Israel imposed the blockade and resumed its military campaign in March, breaking a two-month ceasefire with Hamas. COGAT, the Israeli military body in charge of overseeing aid, did not comment to the AP.

Israeli officials have said they track the calories in Gaza and assert that there is enough aid after an influx during the ceasefire.

Israel and the United States are pressing the UN and aid groups to join the planned new distribution system. The UN and most aid groups say they can't join because it enables Israel to use aid as a weapon for its political and military goals.

In particular, it would depopulate much of Gaza by forcing Palestinians to move to planned distribution hubs.

"In the end, this is using food to humiliate, control and direct people," said al-Saqqa of Oxfam. "Every human being has the right to food."



Sudan's Relentless War: A 70-Year Cycle of Conflict


Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)
Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)
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Sudan's Relentless War: A 70-Year Cycle of Conflict


Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)
Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)

While world conflicts dominate headlines, Sudan’s deepening catastrophe is unfolding largely out of sight; a brutal war that has killed tens of thousands, displaced millions, and flattened entire cities and regions.

More than a year into the conflict, some observers question whether the international community has grown weary of Sudan’s seemingly endless cycles of violence. The country has endured nearly seven decades of civil war, and what is happening now is not an exception, but the latest chapter in a bloody history of rebellion and collapse.

The first of Sudan’s modern wars began even before the country gained independence from Britain. In 1955, army officer Joseph Lagu led the southern “Anyanya” rebellion, named after a venomous snake, launching a guerrilla war that would last until 1972.

A peace agreement brokered by the World Council of Churches and Ethiopia’s late Emperor Haile Selassie ended that conflict with the signing of the Addis Ababa Accord.

But peace proved short-lived. In 1983, then-president Jaafar Nimeiry reignited tensions by announcing the imposition of Islamic Sharia law, known as the “September Laws.” The move prompted the rise of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM), led by John Garang, and a renewed southern insurgency that raged for more than two decades, outliving Nimeiry’s regime.

Under Omar al-Bashir, who seized power in a 1989 military coup, the war took on an Islamist tone. His government declared “jihad” and mobilized civilians in support of the fight, but failed to secure a decisive victory.

The conflict eventually gave way to the 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement, better known as the Naivasha Agreement, which was brokered in Kenya and granted South Sudan the right to self-determination.

In 2011, more than 95% of South Sudanese voted to break away from Sudan, giving birth to the world’s newest country, the Republic of South Sudan. The secession marked the culmination of decades of war, which began with demands for a federal system and ended in full-scale conflict. The cost: over 2 million lives lost, and a once-unified nation split in two.

But even before South Sudan’s independence became reality, another brutal conflict had erupted in Sudan’s western Darfur region in 2003. Armed rebel groups from the region took up arms against the central government, accusing it of marginalization and neglect. What followed was a ferocious counterinsurgency campaign that drew global condemnation and triggered a major humanitarian crisis.

As violence escalated, the United Nations deployed one of its largest-ever peacekeeping missions, the African Union-United Nations Hybrid Operation in Darfur (UNAMID), in a bid to stem the bloodshed.

Despite multiple peace deals, including the Juba Agreement signed in October 2020 following the ousting of long-time Islamist ruler, Bashir, fighting never truly ceased.

The Darfur war alone left more than 300,000 people dead and millions displaced. The International Criminal Court charged Bashir and several top officials, including Ahmed Haroun and Abdel Raheem Muhammad Hussein, with war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Alongside the southern conflict, yet another war erupted in 2011, this time in the Nuba Mountains of South Kordofan and the Blue Nile region. The fighting was led by Abdelaziz al-Hilu, head of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement–North (SPLM–N), a group composed largely of northern fighters who had sided with the South during the earlier civil war under John Garang.

The conflict broke out following contested elections marred by allegations of fraud, and Khartoum’s refusal to implement key provisions of the 2005 Naivasha Agreement, particularly those related to “popular consultations” in the two regions. More than a decade later, war still grips both areas, with no lasting resolution in sight.

Then came April 15, 2023. A fresh war exploded, this time in the heart of the capital, Khartoum, pitting the Sudanese Armed Forces against the powerful paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Now entering its third year, the conflict shows no signs of abating.

According to international reports, the war has killed more than 150,000 people and displaced around 13 million, the largest internal displacement crisis on the planet. Over 3 million Sudanese have fled to neighboring countries.

Large swathes of the capital lie in ruins, and entire states have been devastated. With Khartoum no longer viable as a seat of power, the government and military leadership have relocated to the Red Sea city of Port Sudan.

Unlike previous wars, Sudan’s current conflict has no real audience. Global pressure on the warring factions has been minimal. Media coverage is sparse. And despite warnings from the United Nations describing the crisis as “the world’s worst humanitarian catastrophe,” Sudan's descent into chaos remains largely ignored by the international community.