Jamal Kanj

1 week ago | counterpunch.org | Jamal Kanj

The children of Gaza are not hungry—they are starving. They are dying slowly and visibly, not because of a natural disaster, but because Israel has deliberately blocked food and medicine from reaching them. As 2.3 million people face the horror of the Israeli engineered famine, the world watches, shakes its head—and does nothing. This is a humanitarian catastrophe being broadcast live to a complicit world. The United Nations Program has warned it has run out of food in Gaza.

2 weeks ago | transcend.org | Jamal Kanj

Jamal Kanj | Defend Democracy Press - TRANSCEND Media Service 16 April 2025 – The world is witnessing an unconscionable silence as Israel, an occupying power, imposes a total food blockade on Gaza—an illegal act of collective punishment against a captive civilian population. As famine tightens its grip and American-made bombs rain from the sky, global leaders stand by—paralyzed, indifferent, or willfully complicit—while Israel renders Gaza uninhabitable.

2 weeks ago | commondreams.org | Jamal Kanj

I write forgive me, not forgive us, because this guilt is deeply personal. It's a burden I carry in the comfort of my home, sipping clean water while the children of Gaza drink from brine water wells mixed in sewage—their small bodies wracked with dehydration and disease—if they even find water at all. I can pluck wild mallow leaves from my backyard—not to satisfy hunger, but for the luxury of a healthy diet.

3 weeks ago | qoshe.com | Jamal Kanj

I write forgive me, not forgive us, because this guilt is deeply personal. It’s a burden I carry in the comfort of my home, sipping clean water while the children of Gaza drink from brine water wells mixed in sewage—their small bodies wracked with dehydration and disease—if they even find water at all. I can pluck wild mallow leaves from my backyard—not to satisfy hunger, but for the luxury of a healthy diet.

3 weeks ago | counterpunch.org | Jamal Kanj

I write forgive me, not forgive us, because this guilt is deeply personal. It’s a burden I carry in the comfort of my home, sipping clean water while the children of Gaza drink from brine water wells mixed in sewage—their small bodies wracked with dehydration and disease—if they even find water at all. I can pluck wild mallow leaves from my backyard—not to satisfy hunger, but for the luxury of a healthy diet.