Aid distribution in Gaza remains a challenge after the ceasefire: ‘The trucks are coming in, but I don’t know how to access them’

Three weeks after the ceasefire between Hamas and Israel took effect, humanitarian aid is still not entering Gaza at the rate needed for a territory devastated by 15 months of war. With millions of tons of rubble scattered across the landscape, roads and fields in ruins, and the mass displacement of the population ongoing, supplies are still not reaching many Gazans.

Itemad Washah, 53, laments that he has not received “any assistance” so far and says he does not know where to turn if he needs “a tent, flour, or food,” he explains via WhatsApp. “The humanitarian aid trucks have come in, but I don’t know how to access what they are carrying.” In January, the United Nations estimated that the entire population of Gaza — 2.2 million people — requires humanitarian assistance.

Since the ceasefire began, one million people have received food — ”not to live well, but to not die,” says Jonathan Fowler, a spokesperson for the UN agency for Palestinian refugees, UNRWA. However, some Palestinians, like 28-year-old Aws al-Bana, believe the aid is “not organized” and “gets lost in the general chaos,” he says via WhatsApp from Khan Younis in southern Gaza.

Since January 19, the day the ceasefire began, 4,200 trucks carrying humanitarian aid have entered Gaza each week, according to the latest report from the United Nations World Food Program, released on Thursday. This flow — around 500 trucks per day — is similar to the level of aid that entered the Gaza Strip before the war erupted on October 7, 2023. The total blockade imposed by Israel in the aftermath of the Hamas attacks caused the daily average of aid trucks to plummet to 108, and on some days last fall, as few as 20 to 30 made it through, according to the UN. On the first day of the ceasefire alone, 630 trucks entered Gaza.

The first major challenge facing humanitarian organizations in the Palestinian enclave is transporting aid across an apocalyptic landscape — millions of tons of rubble, completely destroyed roads, and unexploded ordnance litter the terrain. “You only have to look at the images from Gaza — how do you drive a truck through all that? It’s just dangerous for us and for the people there,” says Fowler.

These logistical obstacles also prevent many Gazans from reaching aid distribution points. Al-Bana confirms that countless people, with little or no access to transportation, are unable to travel long distances to these centers and therefore “do not receive any kind of support.” He criticizes international organizations for expecting aid recipients to make their way to distribution sites on their own, when “many people have no way of getting there.”

Reaching larger numbers of Gazans is made even more difficult by the fact that hundreds of thousands of people — 565,000, according to the latest figures from the UN agency for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) — have returned to the north of Gaza in the past two weeks, while another 45,000 have made the opposite journey to the south. According to aid agencies, such mass displacements are hampering the delivery of aid.

Fowler notes that the mass displacements triggered by the ceasefire resemble those that took place before the truce, when Israeli bombings and eviction orders forced thousands of Palestinians to flee south. The key difference now, he says, is that the movements are driven by “more positive reasons.” People “want to go back home.” However, the result remains the same — ”a large number of people are moving in a short time.”

This constant movement complicates plans for distributing aid. In a context where “everything is scarce,” aid workers may spend two or three days assessing the needs of a community, only to find that by the time they return with supplies, “the people are no longer there; they have gone somewhere else.” As a result, Fowler sums up, humanitarian aid in Gaza is always “one step behind” those who need it most.

Humanitarian workers also do not have “unrestricted freedom of movement,” stresses the UN agency spokesman, due to restrictions imposed by the Israeli army. Although the ceasefire has allowed trucks carrying aid to reach areas that were previously practically off-limits, such as northern Gaza, they cannot move freely, meaning they are unable to reach all potential beneficiaries.

Compounding the challenge is a new legal hurdle. On January 30, an Israeli law came into effect banning UNRWA from operating in Israeli territory and the Palestinian territories that have been illegally occupied by Israel since 1967 — Gaza, the West Bank, and East Jerusalem. The law enforces a policy of “denial of contact” between UNRWA workers and Israeli officials, the very authorities responsible for granting movement permits to humanitarian workers in Gaza.

UNRWA plays a crucial role in the aid effort, distributing 50% of all assistance delivered to Gaza, according to its director, Philippe Lazzarini. The agency employs 13,000 staff members in the Gaza Strip, while other UN organizations, such as the World Health Organization, the World Food Program, and UNICEF, have only around 200 personnel combined. “No one can operate [in Gaza] without UNRWA,” says Fowler.

Despite the Israeli ban, UNRWA operations continue — for now. “We continue to operate because we have not been physically prevented from doing so, but we do not have a formal permit,” says Fowler. However, he warns that the agency’s ability to function in Gaza remains uncertain. “The operation continues, but we don’t know to what extent it can continue,” he cautions.

Scarce information

For many Gazans, accessing humanitarian aid is not just a logistical challenge, but also an informational one. In Itemad Washah’s battered town, residents criticize aid organizations for providing unclear updates on social media — an unreliable communication channel in a place where internet access is scarce. The available information often allows people to register for assistance but fails to specify exact collection points, making it difficult to locate aid distribution centers.

Malak Hussein, a 21-year-old displaced Palestinian, expresses even greater frustration. She has been searching for a distribution point for days but has found the registration process complicated and opaque. “Registering is not easy. The organizations say they publish the links, but then nothing happens,” she laments in a WhatsApp message. Hussein is one in a family of seven, and her home in Gaza City was destroyed by an Israeli bombing.

Hussein doesn’t even know where to ask for help. When she asks others who have managed to receive aid, she is met with silence. “They don’t tell anyone because they’re afraid it will be taken away or that it will run out,” she explains. For her, the aid is not distributed fairly. “That was the case during the war, and it’s still the case after the ceasefire was declared.” She believes aid is given preferentially to “friends and family” of those managing the warehouses. She feels abandoned.

For Fowler, these are misunderstandings that “come from a legitimate feeling of desperation.” He understands that, in a context of extreme need, the fact that aid does not reach a specific place can fuel suspicions. Hussein admits that UNRWA is “one of the few organizations from which you can get aid, because they distribute it in their own shelters.”

Fowler stressed that UNRWA “is doing everything it can,” but warns it will take “a long time to get people everything they need.” He concluded: “It’s not something that happens overnight.”

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