On April 27, my brother-in-law, Samer, was killed in Deir el-Balah in central Gaza when his vegetable stall was bombed. He wasn’t armed. He wasn’t a political figure. He was a peaceful man trying to earn a living to feed his children in a place where food has become more expensive than gold.

Samer wasn’t a vendor by profession. He was a lawyer who defended the rights of the oppressed. But the war forced him to change his path.

During the ceasefire, he was able to buy vegetables from local wholesalers. After the war resumed and the crossings into Gaza were closed in March, supplies dwindled dramatically, but he maintained a small stock of vegetables. He continued selling day and night, even as buyers became scarce due to the high prices. He often tried to give us vegetables for free out of generosity, but I always refused.

When I heard about Samer’s killing, I froze. I tried to hide the news from my husband, but my tears spoke the truth. He looked like he wanted to scream, but the scream remained trapped inside his throat. Something held him back – perhaps his burdened soul could no longer bear even the expression of grief.

Samer left behind three little children and a heartbroken family. No one expected his death. It came as a shock. He was a good and pure-hearted young man, always cheerful, loving life and laughter, even in the toughest times.

I still remember him standing in front of his vegetable stall, lovingly calling out to customers.

Samer is among countless food sellers who have been killed in this genocidal war. Anyone employed in providing or selling food has been targeted. Fruit and vegetable vendors, grocers, bakers, shop owners and community kitchen workers have been bombed, as if they were dealing with weapons, not food. Bakeries, shops, farms and warehouses have been destroyed, as if the food they were providing was a threat.

Ten days after Samer was killed, a restaurant and a market on al-Wahda Street, one of the busiest in the Remal neighbourhood of Gaza City, were bombed. At least 33 people were killed.

Two weeks before Samer’s martyrdom, the vicinity of a bakery in Jabaliya was bombed. Days before that, a food distribution centre in Khan Younis was targeted. According to the Government Media Office in Gaza, more than 39 food and distribution centres and 29 community kitchens have been targeted since the beginning of the war.

It is clear by now that in its campaign of deliberate starvation, Israel is not only blocking food from entering Gaza. It is also destroying every link in the food supply chain.

As a result of the repeated targeting of vendors and markets, all that is available now to buy – for those who can afford to buy food – are scraps. Death has become easier than life in Gaza.

The starvation is affecting babies and little children the worst. On May 21, the Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor reported at least 26 Palestinians, including nine children, died within a 24-hour period due to starvation and lack of medical care in Gaza.

On May 5, the Ministry of Health in Gaza said it had registered the deaths of at least 57 children caused by malnutrition since the aid blockade began in early March.

As a mother, I often go days without eating just to feed my children whatever little food we have left. My husband spends the entire day searching for anything to ease our hunger but usually comes back with mere scraps. If we’re lucky, we eat a piece of bread – often stale – with a tomato or cucumber that I divide equally among our children.

The hardship Samer’s wife faces is even more unbearable. She tries to hide her tears from her children, who keep asking when their father will return from the market. The loss forced her to become a father overnight, pushing her to stand in long queues in front of community kitchens just to get a bit of food.

She often returns empty-handed, trying to comfort her children with hollow words: “When Dad comes back, he’ll bring us food.” Her children fall asleep hungry, dreaming of a bite to fill their stomachs – one their late father will never bring.

Israel has claimed that it is blocking aid to Gaza because Hamas takes it. The Western media, fully complicit in distorting the truth, has parroted the claim.

Yet it is clear that Israel is not just targeting Hamas but the entire population of Gaza. It is deliberately using starvation as a weapon of war against civilians, obstructing the flow of humanitarian aid – a war crime, according to international law.

Recently, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu made the true aim of his government more than apparent by demanding all Palestinians be expelled from Gaza as a condition for ending the war.

His decision to allow food through the crossings is nothing but a PR stunt. Enough flour was let in to have images of bread distributed at a bakery circulating in the media and to reassure the world that we are not starving.

But these images do not reflect the reality for us on the ground. My family has not received any bread and neither have the majority of families. Flour – where available – continues to cost $450 per bag.

While Israel claims that 388 aid trucks have entered since Monday, aid organisations are saying 119 have. An unknown number of these have been looted because the Israeli army continues to target anyone trying to secure aid distribution.

This tiny trickle of aid Israel is allowing is nothing compared with the needs of the starving population. At least 500 trucks are required every single day to cover the bare minimum.

Meanwhile, some Western governments have threatened sanctions and made some symbolic gestures to supposedly pressure Israel to stop starving us. Why did they need to wait to see our children dying of hunger before doing this? And why are they only threatening and not taking real action?

Today, our greatest wish is to find a loaf of bread. Our sole concern is how to keep surviving amid this catastrophic famine that has broken our bones and melted our insides. No one among us is healthy any more. We’ve become skeletons. Our bodies are dead, but they still pulse with hope – yearning for that miraculous day when this nightmare ends.

But who will act to support us? Who still has a shred of compassion for us in their heart?

And the most important question of all – when will the world finally stop turning a blind eye to our slow, brutal death by hunger?

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.