Molokhia cigarettes: Gaza’s toxic alternative to tobacco

Gaza City, the Gaza Strip – Next to a waste dump, a small informal market stretches along a dusty road in central Gaza City. Makeshift stalls line both sides, where vendors display large plastic bags of dried molokhia leaves alongside a few remaining packs of tobacco. Molokhia - the leaves of the jute mallow plant - is typically used to make a thick stew. But at the stalls here it is used to make a "molokhia cigarette". Alaa Jundiya has asked a vendor for one. The seller takes a handful of dried leaves, crushes them between his fingers, and adds a small drop of liquid nicotine. The mixture is then rolled into thin paper and handed over. The 27-year-old, who has been smoking for six years, describes how his habits were forcibly reshaped by war and soaring prices. What was once a routine personal habit, Alaa says, is now another example of the high cost of living that now defines daily life in Gaza, with extreme inflation brought on by Israel's genocidal war now rampant. “A [tobacco] cigarette now costs 100 shekels ($34)… it’s insane,” he says, exhaling smoke mixed with the distinct smell of molokhia. “It doesn’t even resemble tobacco anymore… but it’s something we use because there are no other options.” As a father of two, unemployed since losing his job as a carpenter at the start of the war, each pack of cigarettes has become an unaffordable burden. “Before the war we tried everything… different types of tobacco, imported brands,” he says. “Now we’re smoking whatever we can dry and roll. It’s not a real alternative - it’s just a necessity.” While there is no official confirmation from Gaza’s Ministry of Health, several doctors in respiratory and cardiac departments have reported cases of suffocation, breathing difficulties and facial discolouration linked to smoking molokhia cigarettes. Dr Ahmed Saeed al-Jadba, a consultant ear, nose and throat specialist, warns that burning molokhia may be even more dangerous than traditional tobacco, and could increase the risk of cancer. He explains that the substances added to dried molokhia include liquid nicotine, a known carcinogen, and in some cases even industrial substances such as pest-control agents or battery oils, making the mixture highly toxic. “When these materials are burned, they release toxic gases like carbon monoxide and tar,” he says. “These are the same harmful compounds found in traditional tobacco and are major causes of cancer and cellular damage over time.” He adds that many patients arriving at clinics suffer from severe coughing, hoarseness, dark or yellow phlegm, and in some cases have been diagnosed with pre-cancerous lesions on the vocal cords. Alaa has had bad experiences with nicotine. He recalls a disturbing incident when liquid nicotine touched his skin, causing severe irritation and unconsciousness lasting four hours. “I used to carry the nicotine syringe in my pocket,” he says. “It broke suddenly and leaked into my skin. It caused severe burns and penetrated the tissue. I would have died without God’s mercy.” He adds that he has heard of multiple similar incidents in the local market, where improper handling of nicotine has led to serious injuries and even deaths. Despite being fully aware of the risks, addiction and economic pressure continue to override his attempts to quit. “In difficult conditions like ours in Gaza, we need smoking just to relieve pressure… something to release all this stress,” he says bitterly. “Isn't everything in our life harmful anyway?” The use of molokhia mixed with nicotine has become common as street vendors try to get by. What was once a modest source of income before the war has become increasingly unstable because of Israeli restrictions on imports into Gaza. Israel has not allowed tobacco products into Gaza since the start of its war on the territory - which has so far killed at least 72,000 Palestinians - along with other restrictions on the entry of food and humanitarian aid into the enclave that led to famine last year. The restrictions were supposed to have been lifted under the current ceasefire, which began in October, but Israel has continued to limit what can enter Gaza. Abdul Karim Heles, 36, from Shujayea, now displaced in western Gaza City, has been selling tobacco for years. “We’ve been working in tobacco since before the war… and we continued during it,” he says. “I have no other profession.” But the real shift, he explains, is not only in trade conditions, but in customer behaviour. As cigarette prices skyrocket, people have been turning to unconventional substitutes, including herbs mixed with nicotine, most notably molokhia. The idea, he says, spread as an emergency workaround, part of a wider pattern of improvisation driven by scarcity. But he knows that this “solution” carries severe health risks. “Using raw nicotine with herbs is dangerous… it’s a toxic substance and can cause death,” he warns, recalling incidents in the market. “I know two people recently who died instantly after consuming nicotine.” He explains that the danger is not only in nicotine itself, but in how it interacts with dried herbs, especially molokhia, which has become the most commonly used base because it “holds the substance” better than other plants. “Nicotine doesn’t stick to all herbs,” he says. “Molokhia holds it... that’s why it became so widespread, despite all the warnings.” The preparation process, he adds, is entirely rudimentary: the leaves are dried, crushed and mixed with nicotine to produce a substance used for smoking, far removed from any safety standards. Alaa insists that it cannot be considered a real alternative. But, he says, economic reality and increasing cigarette prices leave him little room for choice. “A pack used to cost 15 shekels ($5.15)… now it reaches 500 or 600 shekels ($171 or $205),” he explains. “It has become nearly impossible for many people.” He adds that even single cigarettes are now sold at inflated prices, reflecting a dramatic collapse in purchasing power. This sharp increase, combined with shortages and restricted imports, has significantly reduced demand, not due to health awareness, but simply because people can no longer afford it. Hassan Hujan, 40, has been smoking since 2017, and now buys molokhia cigarettes. “Honestly, I’m afraid for my health… but what’s available is not a real alternative,” he says. He describes waking up daily with shortness of breath and a chest filled with dark phlegm, which has pushed him to attempt quitting several times, only to relapse under the pressure of addiction. But he adds that constant psychological stress and a lack of cigarettes, as he describes it, makes him angrier and more irritable. Like hundreds of thousands of others in Gaza, he's just trying to get by, with no idea when life will return to any semblance of normality. “I can barely feed my four children… my situation is suffocating,” he says. “I lost my home in Shujayea and now live in a tent under extremely harsh conditions.”