DEIR AL-BALAH, Gaza Strip: Bassil Naggar can finally sleep without getting jolted awake by the sounds of Israeli airstrikes.
For Naggar and his displaced family, and for many in Gaza facing similar challenges, the ceasefire in the Israel-Hamas war has provided a much-needed respite from a two-year war that has killed tens of thousands of Palestinians and left much of the territory in ruins.
But many daily struggles, big and small, persist — from how to put an actual roof over one’s head and what to wear as winter approaches, to how to secure proper food, to worries over whether the fragile ceasefire will hold.
The extent of some of the personal and communal losses has become clearer since the ceasefire went into effect on Oct. 10, allowing many to return to their neighborhoods and discover what remains of their homes.
“Life after the ceasefire is still anxious. Is the war really over?” said Naggar, who has been displaced about a dozen times since the war began.
Fueling his fears are memories of the deadly Israeli airstrikes in March that shattered an earlier truce.
In the coastal area of Muwasi, crowded with displaced Palestinians, Naggar’s tent has started to wear thin. He said his home in eastern Khan Younis has been burned. He worries about how his family can keep warm in winter.
They’ve been surviving mostly on canned food, such as fava beans and chickpeas. He said he’s starting to see instant noodles and potato chips in the market. Prices have come down some, but remain too expensive, he added.
The World Food Program is moving “swiftly to scale up food assistance and reach families who have endured months of blockade, displacement and hunger,” spokesperson Abeer Etefa said Friday in Geneva.
“We’re still below what we need, but we’re getting there,” Etefa said.
Challenges she cited include damaged infrastructure and the need for more open crossings into Gaza.
Earlier in the week, the entrance of desperately needed humanitarian aid into Gaza was paused for two days for the exchange of hostages and prisoners and for a Jewish holiday. Israel had also threatened to reduce the number of trucks allowed into Gaza, saying Hamas was too slow to return remaining bodies of hostages.
Under the ceasefire agreement, hundreds of trucks are to be allowed to enter Gaza daily. COGAT, the Israeli military body overseeing humanitarian aid, did not respond to a query about how many trucks carrying aid have made it into Gaza since the ceasefire.
Naggar said he hasn’t noticed a significant change in the amount of aid available since the ceasefire started.
In the Oct. 7, 2023, attack that sparked the war, Hamas-led militants abducted 251 people, and killed around 1,200.
In Israel’s ensuing offensive, nearly 68,000 Palestinians were killed in Gaza, according to the Gaza Health Ministry, which is part of the Hamas-run government. The ministry maintains detailed casualty records that are seen as generally reliable by UN agencies and independent experts.
On Thursday, hardships were on display at a crowded charity kitchen in the central city of Deir Al-Balah, where scores of Palestinians held bowls and pots as they waited in front of large vats of rice. One woman displaced from Khan Younis, Fatima Shaat, said she waited for six hours for food.
Basma Abu Al-Kheir said while some goods have come in, “there is no possibility of buying what we want” because prices are too high.
In Deir Al-Balah, Fida Ziyad said tomatoes, cucumbers, and eggplants are available at the market, but poultry and meat are in short supply — and all of it costs more than it did before the war. Ziyad, who lost her home in northern Gaza, said she’s wary of what lies ahead, with many thorny issues about Gaza still unresolved.
For many, normalcy remains elusive.
After the ceasefire, Mohamed Samy went back to check on his home in Jabaliya to find it reduced to rubble. Samy, who now lives in Gaza City, said much of his situation hasn’t changed since the ceasefire.
“Even drinking water, I have to walk, sometimes up to an hour, to get to the water truck.”
In August, the world’s leading authority on food crises said Gaza City was gripped by famine, which the group warned then was likely to spread without a ceasefire and an end to restrictions on humanitarian aid. At the time, Israel rejected the report, with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu calling it an “outright lie.”
Before then, aid groups had warned for months that Israel’s restrictions of food and other aid into Gaza, and its military offensive, were causing starvation among Palestinian civilians, particularly children.
Since the beginning of the ceasefire, at least nine humanitarian organizations have gradually resumed services in Gaza City and parts of northern Gaza for displaced families and returnees, according to a UN humanitarian affairs report released Thursday.
In Deir Al-Balah, Ayman Abu Saif still relies on charity kitchens for food.
“It’s either rice or pasta,” said Abu Saif, who once worked in the hospitality and restaurants fields and has been repeatedly displaced during the war.
“The prices in the market are now more reasonable,” he said. That has led to a small win: He bought his children three apples for the first time in more than a year.
He remains uncertain about returning to where he lived in Gaza City, saying he saw a photo of his home destroyed. And it’s not just his home that’s gone.
“There is no water and no infrastructure. I cannot go back even if I want to.”
In a glimpse of the challenges ahead, many displaced Palestinians returning to their neighborhoods found themselves walking through collapsed, pockmarked and hollowed out buildings and sifting through debris for traces of their past lives.
Abu Saif laments the toll the war has taken on his children — and fears for their future.
“It’s good that the bloodshed has stopped, but we have lost everything,” he said.
His six-year-old-son hasn’t received a proper education and probably won’t anytime soon, he said.
“I do not want my kids to think that this is what life is, to run behind a charity kitchen to get food, or walk lengthy miles to get clean water,” said Abu Saif. “This is not reality and this is not what life is, and I am not sure life in Gaza will change soon.”
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Daily struggles persist in Gaza even as ceasefire offers some respite
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Daily struggles persist in Gaza even as ceasefire offers some respite
- “Life after the ceasefire is still anxious. Is the war really over?” said Naggar, who has been displaced about a dozen times since the war began
- In the coastal area of Muwasi, crowded with displaced Palestinians, Naggar’s tent has started to wear thin
Morocco aims to boost legal cannabis farming and tap a global boom
BAB BERRED: Since he started growing cannabis at 14, Mohamed Makhlouf has lived in the shadows, losing sleep while bracing for a knock on his door from authorities that could mean prison or his entire harvest confiscated.
But after decades of operating in secret, Makhlouf finally has gained peace of mind as Morocco expands legal cultivation and works to integrate veteran growers like him into the formal economy.
On his farmland deep in the Rif Mountains, stalks of a government-approved cannabis strain rise from the earth in dense clusters. He notices when police pass on a nearby road. But where the crop’s aroma once meant danger, today there is no cause for concern. They know he sells to a local cooperative.
“Legalization is freedom,” Makhlouf said. “If you want your work to be clean, you work with the companies and within the law.”
The 70-year-old Makhlouf’s story mirrors the experience of a small but growing number of farmers who started in Morocco’s vast black market but now sell legally to cooperatives producing cannabis for medicinal and industrial use.
New market begins to sprout
Morocco is the world’s biggest producer of cannabis and top supplier of the resin used to make hashish. For years, authorities have oscillated between looking the other way and cracking down, even as the economy directly or indirectly supports hundreds of thousands of people in the Rif Mountains, according to United Nations reports and government data.
Abdelsalam Amraji, another cannabis farmer who joined the legal industry, said the crop is crucial to keeping the community afloat.
“Local farmers have tried cultivating wheat, nuts, apples, and other crops, but none have yielded viable results,” he said.
The region is known as an epicenter of anti-government sentiment and growers have lived for years with arrest warrants hanging over them. They avoided cities and towns. Many saw their fields burned in government campaigns targeting cultivation.
Though cannabis can fetch higher prices on the black market, the decreased risk is worth it, Amraji said.
“Making money in the illegal field brings fear and problems,” he said. “When everything is legal, none of that happens.”
Market remains under tight regulation
The change began in 2021 when Morocco became the first major illegal cannabis producer, and the first Muslim-majority country, to pass a law legalizing certain forms of cultivation.
Officials heralded the move as a way to lift small-scale farmers like Makhlouf and Amraji out of poverty and integrate cannabis-growing regions into the economy after decades of marginalization.
In 2024, King Mohammed VI pardoned more than 4,800 farmers serving prison sentences to allow longtime growers “to integrate into the new strategy,” the justice ministry said at the time.
Since legalization was enacted in 2022, Morocco has tightly regulated every step of production and sale from seeds and pesticides to farming licenses and distribution. Though certain cultivation is authorized, officials have shown no sign of moving toward legalization or reforms targeting recreational consumers.
“We have two contradictory missions that are really to allow the same project to succeed in the same environment,” said Mohammed El Guerrouj, director-general of Morocco’s cannabis regulatory agency. “Our mission as policemen is to enforce regulations. But our mission is also to support farmers and operators so they succeed in their projects.”
Licensing and cooperatives are part of new ecosystem
The agency issued licenses last year to more than 3,371 growers across the Rif and recorded nearly 4,200 tons of legal cannabis produced.
Near the town of Bab Berred, the Biocannat cooperative buys cannabis from roughly 200 small farmers during harvest season. The raw plant is transformed into neat vials of CBD oil, jars of lotion and chocolates that have spread across Morocco’s pharmacy shelves.
Some batches are milled into industrial hemp for textiles. For medicinal use and export, some of the product is refined into products with less than 1 percent THC, the psychoactive compound that gives cannabis its high.
Aziz Makhlouf, the cooperative’s director, said legalization created a whole ecosystem that employed more than just farmers.
“There are those who handle packaging, those who handle transport, those who handle irrigation — all of it made possible through legalization,” said Makhlouf, a Bab Berred native whose family has long been involved in cannabis farming.
Legalization has brought licenses, formal cooperatives and the hope of steady income without fear of arrest. But the shift also has exposed the limits of reform. The legal market remains too small to absorb the hundreds of thousands who depend on the illicit trade and the new rules have introduced more pressures, farmers and experts say.
Protests erupted in parts of nearby Taounate in August after cooperatives there failed to pay growers for their crop. Farmers waved banners reading “No legalization without rights” and “Enough procrastination,” furious that payments they were promised for working legally at the government’s urging never came, local media reported.
Illegal cultivation persists
The government insists the transformation is only beginning and challenges can be overcome.
But black market demand remains high. Today, cannabis is grown legally on 14,300 acres (5,800 hectares) in the Rif, while more than 67,000 acres (27,100 hectares) are used for illegal growing, according to government data. The number of farmers entering the legal system remains tiny compared with the number thought to be tied to the illicit market.
An April report from the Global Institute Against Transnational Organized Crime characterized the industry as “more one of coexistence of both markets than a decisive transition from one to the other.”
“A substantial proportion of the population continue to rely on illicit cannabis networks for income generation, perpetuating the dynamics that the state is trying to reform,” the report said.
For now, Morocco’s two cannabis economies exist side by side — one regulated and one outlawed — as the country tries to coax a centuries-old trade out of the shadows without leaving its farmers behind.
“Cannabis is legal now, just like mint,” Amraji said. “I never imagined I’d one day be authorized to grow it. I’m shocked.”
But after decades of operating in secret, Makhlouf finally has gained peace of mind as Morocco expands legal cultivation and works to integrate veteran growers like him into the formal economy.
On his farmland deep in the Rif Mountains, stalks of a government-approved cannabis strain rise from the earth in dense clusters. He notices when police pass on a nearby road. But where the crop’s aroma once meant danger, today there is no cause for concern. They know he sells to a local cooperative.
“Legalization is freedom,” Makhlouf said. “If you want your work to be clean, you work with the companies and within the law.”
The 70-year-old Makhlouf’s story mirrors the experience of a small but growing number of farmers who started in Morocco’s vast black market but now sell legally to cooperatives producing cannabis for medicinal and industrial use.
New market begins to sprout
Morocco is the world’s biggest producer of cannabis and top supplier of the resin used to make hashish. For years, authorities have oscillated between looking the other way and cracking down, even as the economy directly or indirectly supports hundreds of thousands of people in the Rif Mountains, according to United Nations reports and government data.
Abdelsalam Amraji, another cannabis farmer who joined the legal industry, said the crop is crucial to keeping the community afloat.
“Local farmers have tried cultivating wheat, nuts, apples, and other crops, but none have yielded viable results,” he said.
The region is known as an epicenter of anti-government sentiment and growers have lived for years with arrest warrants hanging over them. They avoided cities and towns. Many saw their fields burned in government campaigns targeting cultivation.
Though cannabis can fetch higher prices on the black market, the decreased risk is worth it, Amraji said.
“Making money in the illegal field brings fear and problems,” he said. “When everything is legal, none of that happens.”
Market remains under tight regulation
The change began in 2021 when Morocco became the first major illegal cannabis producer, and the first Muslim-majority country, to pass a law legalizing certain forms of cultivation.
Officials heralded the move as a way to lift small-scale farmers like Makhlouf and Amraji out of poverty and integrate cannabis-growing regions into the economy after decades of marginalization.
In 2024, King Mohammed VI pardoned more than 4,800 farmers serving prison sentences to allow longtime growers “to integrate into the new strategy,” the justice ministry said at the time.
Since legalization was enacted in 2022, Morocco has tightly regulated every step of production and sale from seeds and pesticides to farming licenses and distribution. Though certain cultivation is authorized, officials have shown no sign of moving toward legalization or reforms targeting recreational consumers.
“We have two contradictory missions that are really to allow the same project to succeed in the same environment,” said Mohammed El Guerrouj, director-general of Morocco’s cannabis regulatory agency. “Our mission as policemen is to enforce regulations. But our mission is also to support farmers and operators so they succeed in their projects.”
Licensing and cooperatives are part of new ecosystem
The agency issued licenses last year to more than 3,371 growers across the Rif and recorded nearly 4,200 tons of legal cannabis produced.
Near the town of Bab Berred, the Biocannat cooperative buys cannabis from roughly 200 small farmers during harvest season. The raw plant is transformed into neat vials of CBD oil, jars of lotion and chocolates that have spread across Morocco’s pharmacy shelves.
Some batches are milled into industrial hemp for textiles. For medicinal use and export, some of the product is refined into products with less than 1 percent THC, the psychoactive compound that gives cannabis its high.
Aziz Makhlouf, the cooperative’s director, said legalization created a whole ecosystem that employed more than just farmers.
“There are those who handle packaging, those who handle transport, those who handle irrigation — all of it made possible through legalization,” said Makhlouf, a Bab Berred native whose family has long been involved in cannabis farming.
Legalization has brought licenses, formal cooperatives and the hope of steady income without fear of arrest. But the shift also has exposed the limits of reform. The legal market remains too small to absorb the hundreds of thousands who depend on the illicit trade and the new rules have introduced more pressures, farmers and experts say.
Protests erupted in parts of nearby Taounate in August after cooperatives there failed to pay growers for their crop. Farmers waved banners reading “No legalization without rights” and “Enough procrastination,” furious that payments they were promised for working legally at the government’s urging never came, local media reported.
Illegal cultivation persists
The government insists the transformation is only beginning and challenges can be overcome.
But black market demand remains high. Today, cannabis is grown legally on 14,300 acres (5,800 hectares) in the Rif, while more than 67,000 acres (27,100 hectares) are used for illegal growing, according to government data. The number of farmers entering the legal system remains tiny compared with the number thought to be tied to the illicit market.
An April report from the Global Institute Against Transnational Organized Crime characterized the industry as “more one of coexistence of both markets than a decisive transition from one to the other.”
“A substantial proportion of the population continue to rely on illicit cannabis networks for income generation, perpetuating the dynamics that the state is trying to reform,” the report said.
For now, Morocco’s two cannabis economies exist side by side — one regulated and one outlawed — as the country tries to coax a centuries-old trade out of the shadows without leaving its farmers behind.
“Cannabis is legal now, just like mint,” Amraji said. “I never imagined I’d one day be authorized to grow it. I’m shocked.”
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