For Gaza, Israel's genocidal war is measured by sporadic ceasefires but also by the ability of families to light their stoves without worry.
Months after the fragile ceasefire supposedly took effect, Palestinian kitchens remain a daily battleground, particularly during Ramadan.
The holy month, usually a time of family gatherings and culinary traditions, now carries the added anxiety of whether there will be enough cooking gas needed to prepare meals after a day of fasting.
According to the Gaza government media office, households currently receive around 8 kilograms of cooking gas per distribution cycle, which can span three months or more depending on availability.
Before the war, a typical household consumed more than one cylinder per month, roughly 40 kilograms over three months.
Today, families wait months for a fraction of that amount, forcing them to adjust meals, limit cooking frequency, and rely on temporary solutions, from borrowing gas from neighbours to paying exorbitant prices on the black market.
In Gaza's neighbourhoods, the search for cooking gas has become more than a routine task; it has turned into an open struggle to secure a hot meal after a day of fasting.
This scarcity has given rise to a thriving black market that many families reluctantly depend on.
In the al-Zeitoun neighbourhood south of Gaza City, Tamer al-Dahdouh, 27, stands beside a metal frame rigged with an old bicycle converted into a makeshift generator.
As he pedals, a rubber belt transfers motion to a small generator that powers a pump, moving gas from large cylinders into smaller ones. The chain creaks with his ragged breaths while neighbours gather to fill a few kilograms that will last them days.
"The idea was born out of necessity. Electricity is unreliable, and fuel is scarce. We no longer have the luxury of waiting," al-Dahdouh told The New Arab.
Like many Palestinians in Gaza, he lost his job at a contracting company after its offices were damaged in the war, joining thousands of unemployed workers in a sector where unemployment exceeds 65 per cent, according to the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics.
"I looked for any opportunity. I found myself here, spending long hours to earn a meagre income. But it's better than nothing," he said.
Before the war, cooking gas was delivered regularly, allowing families to use more than one cylinder per month. Now, rationing limits households to roughly eight kilograms per cycle, barely enough for a few days. This scarcity drives many with the means to the black market, where prices far exceed the subsidised rate.
According to the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics, over 80 per cent of families in Gaza struggle to obtain fuel for cooking or heating. Around 60 per cent rely on subsidised gas, while the rest turn to the black market.
Standing in line
At a distribution point in Gaza City, Umm Mohammed, 52, clutches an empty cylinder. "During the war, we cooked over wood fires, which caused respiratory illnesses. Gas was a dream we never had. When it finally became available, it felt like gold. We have no choice; we need it," she told TNA.
Two months ago, she received her subsidised gas at the official cost. Now, she limits its use to essential tasks like heating bread or boiling water, cooking over wood once a day.
When her supply runs out, she sometimes buys extra kilograms at nearly double the official price, after waiting in long queues with no guarantee of receiving her share.
Her son, 22-year-old Sami, told TNA that cooking for iftar during Ramadan has become a test of patience.
"We plan meals around the gas we have. Sometimes we cook one large dish that can last for two meals. Every day is a puzzle," he said. "If we run out, we use charcoal or wood, but the smoke makes everyone cough. It's stressful, especially for my little siblings."
Hussam al-Zinati, owner of a local filling station, told TNA, "Demand has increased significantly. People fear sudden shortages and try to stockpile. Queues stretch for hours, and sometimes people go home empty-handed. Cooking itself has become a source of stress."
"We try to help people, but the black market is dangerous. The gas comes from unstable sources, and one mistake could cause a fire or explosion," Samir Hamdan, 38, a vendor from Gaza City, told TNA.
"People know official supplies are limited, so they come to us to avoid running out."
Working in these unofficial operations is risky. "I'm always afraid of accidents. Sometimes I see fire trucks pass by. We try to be careful, but danger is constant," Hamdan added.
In Gaza's narrow streets, cooking gas cylinders often sell for three to four times the official price. Vendors sit on the ground or behind handcarts, carefully weighing each cylinder to avoid losing money.
Prices are unpredictable. One kilogram of cooking gas can cost US$25 to US$30, while an official eight-kilogram cylinder costs US$20. Many families cannot afford these prices, especially after the war.
Um Noaman, 45, from al-Nuseirat camp, said, "I can't afford black-market prices. If the cylinder runs out, I wait. So, I conserve the subsidised gas as much as possible. We want a normal life. Gas should be available as before, not a daily battle."
Ramadan amid scarcity
For many, Ramadan highlights the contrast between tradition and survival. Families who once gathered around freshly cooked meals now ration ingredients and adjust recipes to stretch the little fuel they have.
Mothers like Wafaa, 38, from Khan Younis, describe cooking meals in stages, boiling water for tea early in the morning, then delaying the main meal until nightfall.
"The children ask for more, but we explain that gas is limited. We cook slowly, sometimes skipping dishes to save fuel," she said. "Ramadan is meant to be a time of joy, but now it is mixed with worry."
Despite the hardships, Palestinians in Gaza cling to small routines. Families rise before dawn to prepare Suhoor meals, carefully calculating how much gas each dish will consume.
Children help by carrying wood or charcoal for supplementary cooking. Neighbours share tips and sometimes lend cylinders to those in greater need.
"The community is what keeps us going," Umm Mohammed said. "We cannot change the shortages, but we support each other. That is Ramadan in Gaza now."
"We hope for stability, for gas to flow as it did before," she added. "Until then, we adapt, we wait, and we do our best to keep our families fed."