As more than 1.5 billion Muslims worldwide observe Ramadan, Palestinians in Gaza are striving to find small moments of joy this holy month amid destruction, displacement, grief, scarcity, and fragile peace.
For many residents of the enclave, this Ramadan unfolds against the backdrop of shattered homes, restricted movement and economic collapse, even as a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas remains formally in place. However, what distinguishes this Ramadan from the last two is the relative calm that has come with the current ceasefire, compared with the previous two years, when Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza, which has killed more than 70,000 Palestinians, was at its peak.
“In Gaza, it is the third year in a row that families will mark Ramadan during an unprecedented humanitarian disaster, huddled in tents and ruins, reliant on aid to survive,” UNRWA Commissioner-General on Gaza rom Philippe Lazzarini said.
Ramadan decorations in Gaza
Ramadan lanterns and string lights were put up on rubble-lined streets of Gaza City, bringing joy and respite to the grief-stricken families. “The lantern makes us feel part of the celebration, even with all the difficulties around us,” said Yasser Bashir, who received a free lantern.
In Gaza City’s historic Al-Zawiya Market, bright lanterns hang once again over stalls selling dates, olives and Ramadan decorations. The market, more than 700 years old, partially destroyed in an Israeli airstrike in November 2024, stands as a symbol of both continuity and devastation.
For some residents, the reopening of the market offers a fragile sense of normalcy. Enas Omar, a Ramadan shopper, told PBS: “This market is one of Gaza’s oldest, despite the destruction and despite the war that has come to Gaza. We still rebuilt much of it and brought back the lively Ramadan atmosphere.”
Yet shopkeepers describe steep obstacles. Louay Al-Jamasi told PBS: “People have been deprived of Ramadan decorations today because they don’t have electricity. The cost of lanterns is also high because goods have not been allowed to enter. This lantern is now double the price.” This Ramadan follows a ceasefire reached in October, though violence has not entirely ceased.
🌙 Displaced Palestinians in northern Gaza gather among ruins to break first Ramadan fast with communal iftar for families living in tents
— Anadolu English (@anadoluagency) February 18, 2026
➡️ Organizers say residents mark holy month in sorrow, far from homes lost in Israeli genocide pic.twitter.com/mQOBrHdT5F
Majdoleen Abu Assi, a project coordinator and humanitarian practitioner based in Gaza, wrote in The Guardian: “I did not welcome Ramadan this year with the golden lanterns that once adorned our balconies. I welcomed it to the roar of bulldozers clearing the bones of neighbouring houses and with the constant buzz of the zanana, the Israeli surveillance drones, overhead.”
According to Gaza’s Ministry of Health, at least 603 Palestinians have been killed and 1,618 wounded since the ceasefire agreement in October. On the first two days of Ramadan alone, two Palestinians were killed and four were injured across the strip.
Life in Tents and No-Go Zones
Across central Gaza, thousands of families continue to observe Ramadan in makeshift tents. In Nuseirat refugee camp, Ziad Dhair described the atmosphere to Middle East Eye: “There is no real difference between Ramadan now and Ramadan during the war. The only difference is that some of the killing and bloodshed has stopped.”
Dhair, displaced from northern Gaza, emphasized the absence of loved ones. “We have lost the gatherings of the people we love. There is no one left for me today. I am still displaced from northern Gaza, and I have no siblings or friends here. All my friends have been martyred, only one remains. From my family, the dearest people have been martyred.”
Before the war, he said, Ramadan meant decorations, shared meals and nightly visits. “During Ramadan, before the war began in 2023, we used to hang decorations, buy food and desserts, and watch Ramadan series. Today, none of that exists,” Dhair continued. “Our life is simple in a tent, and we can hardly find a friend to wish Ramadan Mubarak to. We used to invite each other for Iftar [fast-breaking meal]. Today, all I have are memories. I keep remembering that on this day, a friend would invite me over for Iftar.” Despite the ceasefire, large swaths of Gaza remain inaccessible.
Israel has enforced what it terms the “Yellow Line,” a military no-go zone in northern and eastern Gaza. Since October, Israeli forces have pushed the line westward, bringing roughly 58% of Gaza under their control, according to local reporting, leaving tens of thousands unable to return home.
“The war has not stopped. I cannot even reach my home. I cannot see it because it lies in an area we are forbidden to enter and remains under occupation,” Dhair said. “The war cannot have stopped when I am still unable to even see the rubble of my home.”
Meanwhile, Abu Assi wrote: “Even as we stand in prayer, that metallic humming drowns out the adhan, the call to prayer, reminding us that we are still watched and that our ‘calm’ rests at the mercy of a sudden strike.”
Grief and Separation
For Amal Al-Samri, now living in a tent with her children, the emotional toll defines this Ramadan. She told PBS: “Before the war, life was beautiful, we used to visit relatives and I would go to my parents and siblings. I would go down to the market to shop for the house and prepare for Ramadan. Today, there’s nothing. We are living in tragedy.”
In central Gaza, Umm Mohammed Abu Qamar, originally from Jabalia refugee camp, is spending the holy month away from her damaged home for the first time since the conflict began. “The first day of Ramadan was sad because I did not spend it in my home,” she told Middle East Eye. “I spent the past two Ramadans in my house in Jabalia, even though we had to put up zinc sheets instead of the destroyed walls. Today, I am in a tent. I miss my home, I miss Jabalia. I long to return and smell its soil.”
She is also mourning family members killed in Israeli attacks. “On the first day of Ramadan, my thoughts were with them, especially my older sister, who raised me. I always considered her like a mother. My younger sister was my friend. We used to gather and invite one another for Iftar,” she said. “This Ramadan feels different because the gatherings are gone. We used to share Iftar together. Today, my two daughters are without their husbands. My younger daughter is 19, and the other is 24. One of their husbands was a journalist, and the other worked as a chef in a cake factory.”
Fouad Hijazi, displaced from Gaza City, described the moment the crescent moon was sighted. “As soon as they announced that the Ramadan crescent moon had been sighted, my eyes filled with tears,” he told Middle East Eye. “I missed my father and brother, who were martyred, as well as around 20 of my friends. During Ramadan, we used to buy things together and have Iftar together.”
Economic Collapse and Aid Shortfalls
Even as markets display goods reminiscent of pre-war Ramadan seasons, many families cannot afford them. Hijazi said, “I have been without work for two-and-a-half years. I cannot afford the current prices, even when goods are available. So we rely on charity kitchens.”
Daily survival routines reflect persistent shortages. “We spend the day filling water and collecting firewood. We receive the food from charity kitchens by midday, so by Iftar time, the food has cooled, and we have to light fires to warm it,” Hijazi said.
Although the ceasefire agreement stipulated the entry of approximately 1,500 truckloads of cooking gas by the end of January, Gaza’s General Petroleum Authority reported that only 307 trucks carrying about 6,458 tonnes of gas had arrived, covering roughly 20 percent of the strip’s needs. As a result, many households continue to rely on firewood for cooking.
In Hijazi’s view, current conditions are more difficult than earlier phases of deprivation. “During the starvation, the goods simply were not there. Today, we see them but cannot buy them for our children. We have lost all our money on displacement, buying tents and moving from one area to another. By the time Ramadan arrived, we were completely unprepared.”
“Displacement has turned every ritual into a mountain to climb. The cost of food and drink for the entire month of Ramadan used to be no more than 1,000 shekels, while today it is easily 3,500 shekels without even fully meeting basic needs,” Abu Assi wrote in The Guardian.
Communal Resilience Amid Uncertainty
At sunset, displaced families gather at communal tables for iftar meals organized by the Egyptian Committee in the Gaza Strip. The gatherings offer a measure of solidarity in camps sheltering those uprooted by conflict.
Yet for many Palestinians, Ramadan 2026 is defined less by celebration than by remembrance, restricted access to homes and lingering insecurity. The ceasefire has altered the scale of violence, but the human and material consequences of more than two years of war continue to shape daily life across Gaza.