It cannot be said that the crisis of starvation has ended entirely, but most people in Gaza can now find bread and various kinds of food. I forgot to tell you that there is a group living entirely below the poverty line, unable to buy bread (20 pieces for one U.S. dollar).
In May 2024, I found a small cat wandering aimlessly in the neighborhood. I coaxed that cat from in front of my house, and later learned that he had fled during the war as a displaced animal from southern Gaza. I tried to tempt him with some food, and he obeyed me. Since then, he has stayed in the house, eating what we eat, and we indulge him with canned tuna and some powdered milk dissolved in water.
The cat lived with us through every form of suffering during the war: he fell ill, went hungry, was injured by shrapnel from an Israeli missile, was terrified, and his health and psychological state deteriorated. True, he does not speak, but his behavior as a pet and the visible symptoms on his body and in his conduct confirmed all of this.
I will never forget the day a drone fired a missile in front of my house. An hour after the shock—which left a number of family members and neighbors with injuries ranging from moderate to light—I noticed the cat was missing. When I searched for him, I found him bleeding on the balcony, writhing in pain after being struck by shrapnel in his back and leg, bleeding profusely. I treated his wounds with personal effort and placed food near where he slept. When he managed to walk freely again after five days, I was happy that he had survived death.
While the cat was struggling to endure the suffering of war, fat cats were increasing in number and wealth. These cats do not meow, but they are ferocious and merciless—whether selling or buying, they forgive no one. Their eyes are fixed on money, they play on the strings of misery, and how many pains war has.
From the same planet are those who worked as hunters of opportunity, exploiting social media to convey half-truths, and at times producing false content that drew the sympathy and solidarity of millions outside the Gaza Strip. These machines of lies do not deny the existence of suffering, but they feed on the blood of the poor.
Since the outbreak of the war in Gaza, a wealthy class has emerged—traders, influencers, and owners of investment and charitable projects—who earned millions of dollars through monopolizing and exploiting many goods and commodities. Others brought humanitarian and charitable aid worth enormous sums, but stole much of it. These are true and realistic stories in which the falseness of their perpetrators was exposed through the theft of cash and in-kind assistance.
As residents of the Gaza Strip, we do not possess full details about the corruption of the fat cats, but their stench has spread. Their economic and social lifestyles, and the way they deal with people, reveal vast wealth—while most of them could not meet their monthly, or even daily, needs before the war.
Do the fat cats know that Gaza and its people are afflicted by comprehensive poverty? The World Bank and UN reports have confirmed that the poverty rate in the Gaza Strip has reached nearly 100% by 2025, with almost all families unable to meet their basic needs. About 96% of the population (around 2.1 million people) also face severe levels of food insecurity. Estimates by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) indicate that the poverty rate across the Palestinian territories will remain high at 74.3% in 2025.
Many of the poor and destitute broke their silence after the fat cats drained their blood. They used recorded messages on the same social media platforms to reveal that many fat cats photographed them while they were receiving cash and in-kind aid, only to take it back from them later or give them a small fraction of it. Others were muzzled by suffering from exposing what lay hidden and settled for silence and tears.
The absence of oversight, accountability, and law in general has increased the number of fat cats in Gaza. Some of them began to emigrate from Gaza months ago after amassing enormous wealth, while others continue to reap more money without pause.
Our suffering with the fat cats, from the beginning of the war until now, cannot be discovered at a glance, nor summarized in a single scene—among them are the merchant, the head of a charitable association, the representative of a humanitarian organization, or the owner of a kitchen funded by sympathizers who steals much of its food. Thus it goes; these thieves never fail.
Returning to the story of the small cat, who does not grasp what the fat cats have done to us: he shares with them only a part of the word. The truth is that he and we have fallen victim to the fat cats—and how many they are these days.
At the beginning of the cat’s journey inside the house, he explored everything around him, just as we were trying to adapt to our wartime reality—no familiar economic, social, political, or security rituals, as everything became exceptional and dangerous. After the cat learned the rhythms of day and night, he began to approach meals and get what he wanted. When famine began last April, he ended up eating dry crumbs of bread. He and we shared one fate, though we knew that the fat cats outside were getting everything from our blood.
The cat endured harsh conditions of hunger and danger with us, and lost the thick fur around his neck and tail after contracting a skin disease that undermined his health. He emitted a sad moan, expressing his suffering as he writhed in pain. A veterinarian treated him and injected him with serum twice over two weeks. Skin diseases, in truth, caused enormous suffering for tens of thousands of people in the summer of 2024, especially amid weakened immunity, malnutrition, and the general absence of soap and detergents.
I will not forget how bleeding wounds crept across the thin body of the cat, causing him to stop roaming the house. All he did was drink milk, if available, then return to sink into a deep sleep that lasted most of the day.
He changed from a fat cat into a sick, pale one, stripped of fur.
It took six weeks for the fur to grow back densely around the wounds on his back, neck, and tail.
In Gaza, we hung all the causes of our suffering on the peg of war and occupation. When the ceasefire began, we found that our situation had not changed much; only the fat cats grew richer. This winter, they can enjoy every shade of luxury by the fireplace, while the cold bites the limbs of hundreds of thousands in refugee tents.
I know that dogs and cats are considered members of the family in the Western world and are treated with respect and care. But what happened to us with the fat cats has renewed economic theories about capitalism in the modern era. In the past, the theory said, “Whoever owns deserves; whoever does not own does not deserve.” Today in Gaza it is harsher: there is no room to own anything or earn anything by the sweat of your brow in a world ruled by fat cats. It has become: whoever steals deserves; whoever does not steal does not deserve.
Others, weeks ago, devised strange schemes—most of them focused on making money in a new way—gathering many stray cats and dogs to care for them. This idea appealed to many animal-welfare institutions outside Gaza. In truth, these activities appeared after news spread that the Israeli occupation, during the war, collected a number of stray donkeys and transported them outside Gaza. Since then, many people—laughing after the war crushed them—have wished for a chance like the one the donkey got.
You all know that a dog is more loyal than a cat. Recently, after many kinds of food entered Gaza’s markets, the cat in our house changed his behavior: he began to prefer roaming, slipping away quietly before sunset, wandering the neighborhood streets, and returning the next morning. He became fat and strong, but his paws are dirty, and he seeks shelter in the house only during severe weather depressions. We tried repeatedly to dissuade him from his unjustified rebellion in a house—by which I mean a homeland—that offered him all means of life. Yet whenever we tried to make him stay and scolded him, he pulled his ears back, lowered his head, fell silent, and sometimes pursed his lips and closed his eyes in a pleading way that made us postpone deciding his fate. It seems, however, that all cats are ungrateful and care only for their own interest.
This rebellious behavior may drive me to reconsider his current stay in the house. After feeding him in hunger and treating him for illnesses, he shows no commitment to rules of residence or cleanliness. And the truth is: I have no need for a roaming cat—nor for fat cats gnawing at the details of our difficult lives, day and night.
Mohammad Ballour