Bees need flowering trees, open fields, and stable wooden boxes. But in Gaza, local beekeepers are trying to keep colonies alive on concrete rooftops surrounded by miles of grey concrete ruins. After more than two years of devastating conflict, the local bee and honey sector has been pushed to the absolute brink of extinction.
When honey producers like Ibrahim al-Dabba and Niveeen Al-Ashkar inspect their surviving frames, they aren't just looking for sweet yields. They are fighting to preserve a critical ecological lifeline in a territory where traditional agriculture has been shattered.
Surviving Among Concrete and Dust
Before the conflict upended daily existence, Gaza's agricultural landscape supported roughly 30,000 active beehives. Today, agricultural engineers and local producers estimate that only about 700 hives remain across the entire strip. That represents an annihilation of more than 95% of the entire sector.
The math of survival is brutal. Beekeepers who managed to salvage a single box or split surviving colonies face immense structural barriers. Traditional orchards near the border fence are entirely off-limits due to military restrictions, leaving bees with almost no natural forage.
To compensate, beekeepers carry heavy bags of sugar up flights of stairs in heavily damaged buildings to feed their hungry colonies manually. Instead of lush citrus groves, bees are greeted by urban rubble and dust.
The Scramble for Basic Equipment
You cannot practice modern apiculture without proper gear. Yet, nearly all commercial frames, smokers, protective suits, and wooden boxes were destroyed or trapped in inaccessible combat zones.
In the central Gaza camp of Nuseirat, beekeeper Fahd al-Dahdouh spends his daylight hours salvaging broken pieces of wood from flattened orchards and ruined homes. He glues, nails, and pieces together shattered lids and baseboards just to give his remaining swarms a place to live.
Buying new equipment is practically impossible for most. With borders tightly controlled and local manufacturing nonexistent right now, imported supplies cost small fortunes. Ibrahim al-Dabba noted that acquiring just three basic replacement hives can cost up to 10,000 shekels, forcing many veterans of the trade to rely on selling scrap beeswax or whatever else they can find just to put food on their own tables.
Skyrocketing Prices and Empty Markets
Economic pressures have shifted dramatically since the fighting began. Prior to the war, a single kilogram of local honey sold for roughly 60 shekels. Now, producers like Niveeen Al-Ashkar charge up to 150 shekels per kilogram.
Even at more than double the old price, the revenue falls short of covering basic household needs because output has plummeted to a mere 10% of prewar levels. Demand completely outstrips supply, but the bees simply cannot produce enough honey when they are starving and confined to urban rooftops.
Why This Fight Matters Beyond Honey
This isn't just about a breakfast condiment or a commercial product. Without bees, Gaza's remaining independent agricultural patches cannot sustain the pollination needed to grow vegetables and fruits.
Pollination drives whatever green recovery is left in the local economy. Every surviving hive represents an attempt to stitch an ecosystem back together by hand.
Rebuilding a destroyed livelihood from bare concrete takes years of grueling labor. For Gaza's remaining beekeepers, every single frame saved from the wreckage is an act of quiet defiance against total erasure.
Gaza Beekeepers Try to Rebuild Livelihoods
This video provides a firsthand look at how Gazan beekeepers are working tirelessly to salvage remaining hives and adapt to severe supply shortages following the war.
