Cooking in Gaza is now a toxic affair

In Gaza, we have sounds of fear and anxiety. We know them all too well: the hum of spy drones overhead, ambulances screaming through narrow streets, the roar of military aircraft, the thunder of bombings, the cries of people trapped under rubble and now a new sound: the sharp clinking of empty gas cylinders.

We used to know well the tiny click of a gas stove burner starting – that small spark at the start of a day that meant a hot meal or a cup of tea was coming. Now, that sound is gone, replaced by the hollow clang of emptiness.

We used our last drop of cooking gas in the middle of Ramadan. Like all other families in Gaza, we turned to firewood. I remember my mother saying, “From today, we cannot even make a cup of tea for suhoor.”

That is because starting a fire, having even a flicker of light at night could attract a drone or a quadcopter, resulting in an air strike or a barrage of bullets. We don’t know why light at night is targeted, but we know we don’t have the right to ask.

So we ate cold food for suhoor and saved the fire for iftar.After bakeries shut down due to the gas shortage last month, reliance on fire increased – not just for our family but for everyone. Many people built makeshift clay ovens or fires in alleyways or between tents to bake loaves of bread.

Thick, black smoke hangs heavy in the air – not the smoke of death from missiles, but the smoke of life that kills us slowly.

Each morning, we wake up coughing – not a passing cough, but a deep, persistent, choking cough that rattles through our chests.

Then, my brother and I walk to the edge of our neighbourhood, where a man sells wood from the back of a cart. He gathers it from bombed-out buildings, fallen trees, broken furniture, and the ruins of homes and schools.

We carry back whatever our weak bodies can and move on to the next suffering: burning the wood. This is not easy. It demands hours of chopping and breaking wood and breathing in dust. Our father, despite suffering from shortness of breath, insists on helping. This stubbornness of his has become the source of daily arguments, especially between him and my brother.