Palestinians queue to receive food from a charity kitchen in the Bureij refugee camp in the Gaza Strip on April 29. Amid the Israeli blockade on food and aid, and the severe shortage of cooking gas, people have been forced to resort to burning plastic just to cook, writes Mr. Jaber.EYAD BABA/AFP/Getty Images
I wake up in the mornings not because I am rested but because of the sound of shelling or the buzzing of drones.
My day in the Bureij refugee camp in Gaza starts by lighting a fire and preparing a simple breakfast, usually canned beans. There is no gas or electricity.
Since the war began, everything has come to a standstill. No work, no school. The schools have either been destroyed or turned into shelters. My sons, I have three, head out in the morning to the solar-powered mobile charging station with our phones and flashlights, which we use for lighting at night. When they return, they begin hauling water to the rooftop using buckets as there’s no power to run the water pump. Water comes only once every three days. We store the water in barrels on the roof. My wife and daughter wash the clothes by hand in the courtyard.
Lunch is also a basic meal, typically canned food. The fire is relit for every meal.
Eating during war is a matter of survival, not pleasure.
There are thousands of heartbreaking stories about families in Gaza who cannot find enough food to eat or clean water to drink. People often resort to wet wipes to clean their bodies or reuse water multiple times. Residents frequently stand in long lines to access shared toilets. The collapse of sewage systems has caused wastewater to overflow into the streets.
Cooking gas and firewood is hard to come by. Because of this and the Israeli blockade on food and aid, and the severe shortage of cooking gas and fuel, people have been forced to resort to primitive methods such as burning plastic just to cook.
Palestinian journalist Hasan Jaber has worked with Globe and Mail correspondents for more than two decades.Supplied
I work as a journalist for a local newspaper, Al-Ayyam, and receive a monthly salary, a rare blessing during this war. However, with rising prices, my salary no longer has sufficient purchasing power. Most people in Gaza have lost their jobs and sources of livelihood. There is no income or employment, and they survive on aid if it is even available. Many now rely on a barter system, working in exchange for a meal or trading goods for other rare essentials.
Markets in Gaza are nearly empty and shopping malls are closed. Meat and fish have disappeared and there are no eggs or dairy products. Vegetables when available are rare and expensive. Usually it’s onions, potatoes, eggplants or tomatoes. Even the cheapest items have increased in price fivefold. For example, one kilogram of onions costs approximately $15. One kilogram of potatoes costs around $13. These prices are far beyond the reach of most families – the average daily wage is $13.
One of the most painful challenges is the flour crisis.
We used to receive flour in sacks from the United Nations Relief and Works Agency, but now, getting a full bag is nearly impossible. We are forced to buy flour for $15 a kilo, a price equivalent to what two full bags used to cost before the war.
Mr. Jaber writes that the windows in his home are shattered, the walls are cracked and the floor is damaged in the wake of the war. Palestinians look out at the destruction at a UNRWA school housing displaced people, following an Israeli strike in the Bureij refugee camp, on May 7.EYAD BABA/AFP/Getty Images
Bread is a staple for most Gazan families and considered the main source of satiety. The bakeries shut down due to a lack of flour, fuel and electricity. There are no functioning bakeries in my area. Previously, there was one bakery that operated intermittently. People would start lining up before dawn and wait more than six hours just to get a small bag of bread.
I have never seen Hamas seizing food and there is no evidence of such actions. But I have heard rumours that they are taking aid, including food and medicine.
These supplies, which are extremely scarce and inconsistent, are distributed through local committees. Sometimes the distribution is chaotic, but the main reason aid is hard to access is the limited quantity and extreme need. Everyone is chasing any opportunity to get food.
I’ve lost weight and no longer have the strength I once had. My sons have also lost weight. Fatigue is clearly visible on their faces, and they suffer from constant dizziness. People are collapsing from exhaustion and hunger in the streets.
As sunset falls, fear truly begins.
With no electricity, the camp becomes pitch dark. The sound of Israeli warplanes and drones fills the sky, and the booms of artillery shelling never stop. Each night, we go to bed not knowing if we’ll be able to sleep or if we’ll even wake up. The shelling targets homes, streets and open areas inside the camp, often without any warning.
Palestinians sift through destroyed shelters at a UNRWA school housing displaced people, following an Israeli strike in the Bureij refugee camp on May 7. Mr. Jaber was born in the Bureij camp.EYAD BABA/AFP/Getty Images
All the windows in our home are shattered, the walls are cracked and the floor is damaged. The doors do not close properly anymore. We no longer sleep in the room facing the street, fearing shrapnel. We gather in one room on the lower floor, which we consider the safest place in the house. We don’t sleep deeply, we wake at every sound.
An emergency bag is always ready by the front door. It contains our ID cards, official documents and some medicine. Everyone in the house knows what to do if we’re suddenly ordered to evacuate. We even wear our shoes indoors, just in case. During the war we have been displaced eight times.
With the collapse of law enforcement and the absence of police, security has vanished. Chaos has taken over, and thieves have begun stealing from homes whose owners have been displaced, some out of desperation, others out of greed. We’re afraid to leave the house in case it gets robbed. During one of our displacements our house was robbed.
I don’t want to leave. I was born in this camp to a refugee family that was expelled from its land in 1948. I plan to stay in my home and from what I’ve heard many others intend to do the same. No one wants us.
I pray that Israel will not reoccupy Gaza. However, if it happens, it will inevitably lead to more killings and massacres.
If staying becomes more dangerous than death itself, and if the invasion nears, and there’s not even a wall left for my children to shelter behind then yes, I will leave, to protect my family.
Hasan Jaber is a freelance journalist based in Gaza who has worked with Globe and Mail correspondents for more than two decades.