Mahmoud Mousa Al-Haddad is a bubbly 27 year old that recently graduated top of his class with honors in Business Administration. He’s settled into a teaching assistant role at the University where he studied, and enjoys his work. He lives with his family in a busy Eastern suburb and catches public transport to work each day. On the weekends he hangs out with his friends and spends a lot of time at the beach, he especially loves swimming in the sea. He’s close with his three brothers and three sisters. Aya, his older sister, is a doctor working abroad. His parents were so proud and excited about his new role, that they took pictures of him outside the university on his first day.
Or at least Mahmoud was, until war broke out and the University he worked at, the Islamic University of Gaza, was bombed to rubble.
Mahmoud was just like any other 20-something working towards a career he loved, cementing memories with friends and part of a loving family. The only thing that makes him different is that he was born in a part of the world that’s going through one of the worst genocides in modern history. I could go into the global politics, the atrocities, the violations of human rights, the dead babies turning to ash, the human aid sanctions – but I won’t. I want to zoom in – all the way in to one singular person’s experience. If you aren’t already horrified by what’s going on then maybe putting yourself in another’s shoes will change that. Maybe not. Either way, Mahmoud – like all Palestinians -like all people, deserve to have their story told.
Over the last few weeks I’ve been speaking nearly daily with Mahmoud. He usually messages me on Whatsapp, sometimes Instagram. This is why I can’t be convinced social media is inherently bad. Being able to communicate and connect with someone in the middle of a war on the other side of the world, is nothing short of a miracle.
When Mahmoud first reached out to me, he had seen me post about Palestine before, I wasn’t sure how to react. I wasn’t sure if it was real. I background checked, I location traced and did my due diligence. This person was in Gaza. I wanted to find out everything I could about Mahmoud and what his personal story was, what his his daily life was like. I’ve thought it best to let him tell you in his own words, so apart from a few typos I’ve left his entire interview un altered. The following are conversations we’ve had over a few weeks of talking. This is the daily life of Mahmoud Mousa Al-Haddad in Gaza city.
SP: Ok so let’s start with you today. Where exactly are you, and what does your day look like?
M: I’m originally from the eastern area of Gaza, but after our neighborhood was threatened and became unsafe, I was forced to flee to my sister’s house in the western part of the city. That home had also been damaged by airstrikes earlier in the war, but we did our best to fix it up just enough so we could live there.
I usually wake up at 5 a.m. for the Fajr prayer. My day is mostly spent doing manual tasks like carrying water, making fire for cooking, and going to the market. In the evening, I follow the news, hoping to hear some good updates. So far they haven’t come and things keep getting worse. Sometimes, I go for a walk on the beach with friends, even though it isn’t safe. It’s the only part of my old life I still have to hold on to.
Most of my days are spent inside the house. It’s extremely dangerous to go out — markets, schools, and streets are constantly under threat of being bombed. I lost my job because of the war, and now I have no stable source of income. Life has become a daily struggle just to survive.
The majority of neighborhoods have been flattened, tens of thousands of civilians killed, and the machinery of destruction has not paused for a moment. War crimes have been committed by the Israeli army, and starvation has spread throughout the Strip. Still, some justify all of it, every death, every ruin, every starving child, as if morality were a luxury they discarded long ago.
Pictured: Top: Mahmoud at the beginning of his career at the University. Bottom: Devastation as bombs destroy IUG.
SP: What is buying/ getting food like?
M: Basic food items — if found — are being sold at unbelievable and heartbreaking prices:
• 1 kg of flour: $30
• 1 kg of onions: $70
• 1 kg of tomatoes: $15
• 1 kg of potatoes: $30
• 1 kg of sugar: $100
• 1 liter of oil: $40
• 1 kg of legumes: $25
• 1 kg of rice: $30
I never cared about money before, but now I’m in desperate need. Unfortunately, the war has destroyed everything—even the wealthiest people have become poor. Most days I have an empty stomach.
SP: What was your life like before the current war?
M: Before the war, I was living a stable and hopeful life. Due to my academic excellence, I was appointed as a teaching assistant at the university for one year. After that, I worked as a training coordinator at a private company. At the same time, I enrolled in a master’s program in Business Administration. I completed all my coursework — the only thing left is my thesis.
Unfortunately, everything was destroyed. My university was bombed. The building where I used to work was targeted and heavily damaged. Our home was also hit, and we were forced to flee.
Right now, our house remains abandoned — it’s located in the eastern part of Gaza, which is considered a red zone. Most of that area has already been destroyed, and there’s a high chance that our home will be targeted again.
SP: And your family, tell me about them and what has happened to them?
I have 4 sisters and 3 brothers. I’m currently living with my sister and her family. My father is 73 years old and my mother is 58. Both of them are struggling with health issues — my father has high blood pressure and my mother suffers from diabetes. Life is very hard for my parents under the current conditions. Communication with the outside world is often unstable because of electricity cuts and damaged infrastructure, so it’s not always easy to stay in touch or ask for help when needed.
SP: Apart from Aya you are all there right now?
M: Yes. Everyone is here expect Aya. My sister is the only one in our family who was able to escape the war. She managed to leave Gaza in April 2024. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say goodbye to her because I was still in prison at that time, and I didn’t even know she had left until after I was released. She later got married and is now living in Oman. I’m currently living with one of my sisters and her family, in a tiny apartment.
It’s now a few days later and I have woken up to some WhatsApp messages from Mahmoud and he sounds distressed. Or more so than usual;
M: I have a bad news, today the house next to mine was bombed and my house has been damaged beyond repair. I am so upset. My house means the life for me.
SP: You were captured by the IDF and imprisoned. Why were you incarcerated?
M: I was captured by Israeli forces and imprisoned for one year. I’m from the northern part of Gaza, and when the war escalated, the Israeli army ordered us to evacuate to the south. I fled with my family and we took shelter at Nasser Hospital, where my sister was working as a doctor.
After some time, the army surrounded the hospital and stormed it. They arrested everyone — civilians, patients, and even medical staff. I was among those arrested, despite being a civilian. That happened on February 14, 2024.
I was moved through five different Israeli prisons, with the last one being Ketziot Prison in the desert. I was eventually released on February 15, 2025, as part of a prisoner exchange deal.
Pictured: The ruins of Mahmoud’s once family house.
Pictured: The daily rations of a food in Gaza.
SP: I’m so sorry that’s so scary. And the picture you sent of the before and after? Is that before and after you went to the prison?
M: Yes.
Pictured: Mahmoud before and after a stint in an Israeli prison.
What was it like being in prison there?
M: During the year of false imprisonment, I was denied food, and suffered severe malnutrition. That was when I found out I had cancer. When I was finally released in February 2025, I had lost over 30kgs. My health is deteriorating more and more and I need urgent medical care.
While in prison, I noticed an enlargement in my testicle, and it started to increase day after day. I kept asking to see a doctor, but to no avail. As soon as I left prison, I underwent tests, and it turned out to be testicular cancer. I underwent surgery to remove it. Now I need treatment outside Gaza because it is not available here.
I was able to receive just two temporary treatment sessions, but unfortunately, there is no longer enough medical care available. Due to the closure of the borders, treatment is no longer entering Gaza. The only solution is either for medicine to be allowed in or for me to travel outside for proper treatment.
Pictured: Medical records of cancer growth.
I started a GoFundMe campaign in hopes of raising $20,000 to afford urgent medical care and cover basic needs like food, electricity, and rent. Unfortunately, with limited access to international platforms, it’s been hard to reach enough people.
Pictured: Mahmoud Mousa Al-Haddad in happier times and by the sea he loves so much.
As of September 2025, Mahmoud and his family have nowhere left to go. After fleeing the only home he had ever known, the house he grew up in, Mahmoud, his parents and remaining siblings were forced to cram into his older sister’s apartment on the other side of town. During that time, as previously mentioned, his family home was destroyed by bombs. Now he and and family have had to evacuate once again, but this time they have no where to go except a tent.
Pictured: Mahmoud and his family are now living in a tent.
M:The heat in Gaza has become so bad that many families are leaving their tents at night looking for a patch of shade to rest. With no fans or cooling, the tents feel like ovens. People are laying their mattresses on the ground in front of closed shops. It’s not just uncomfortable – it’s exhausting and dangerous. Families like these, some with small children, need shelter, water and a safe place to sleep.
Pictured: A family with children take shelter from the heat.
The people of Palestine are running out of time. They have barely any food, shelter or medical care. Mahmoud is navigating cancer while living in these conditions. It is imperative that we as world citizens fight against this injustice, and all injustice like it. We can do that by banding together to protest, donate, and force our politicians to take notice. We can do that by banning together and protest, donate, force our politicians to take notice. I’ve dropped some links below that are good places to start but please consider donating to Mahmoud’s gofundme that I have linked above.
