Gazas

Khan Younis, Gaza Strip – On the blue, wavy surface off the Khan Younis seaport, two Palestinian fishermen paddled their small, battered boat nearly 200 metres (656 feet) into the sea. On the shore, Dawood Sehwail, a 72-year-old Palestinian fisherman, stood inspecting a torn net, his eyes fixed on the waves as if reading a language only he understands.

Displaced from Rafah, further to the south, in May 2024 as a result of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza, Sehwail now comes daily to the water’s edge, not just to fish, but to have an escape, to study the sea, and to remember.

“The feeling never gets old,” he said, with a sparkle in his eye that defies his age. “You come to see what wonders the sea might still have for you.”

“We were always shackled [by Israel],” Sehwail said quietly. “But one period was less harsh than another.”

Even before October 2023, when Israel started its genocidal war on Gaza, the Palestinian enclave’s fishermen operated under heavy restrictions imposed by Israel. Fishing zones were repeatedly reduced. Maritime boundaries outlined in agreements since the 1993 Oslo Accords were rarely implemented on the water. The distances fishermen were permitted to travel in the sea constantly shifted, often shrinking without warning.

“After every Israeli aggression, the consequences fell on us,” Sehwail explained. “We were supposed to [be allowed to] go further into the sea, but the occupation kept pushing us back.”

Controlling the sea

For a coastal territory, the sea should have been a source of wealth, stability, and fresh food. Instead, under Israel’s blockade that controls Gaza’s land, air, and sea since 2007, it has become another mechanism of control and persecution.

Sehwail once owned a stone distribution business, but was forced to shut it down after the Israeli blockade on Gaza tightened in 2007. He eventually turned to fishing, a skill he had learned as a child, and which he once thought he had abandoned.

“Our profession is day by day,” he said. “It used to be that, if you work, and are lucky, you can sell your catch and feed your family. If you’re very lucky, you save a little for the future of your children.”

But within a few days of Israel’s genocidal war, everything changed. Gaza’s seaport was destroyed by Israeli air strikes. Israel also bombed fishing installations from north to south. Boats were burned or sunk. The sector collapsed almost instantly.

“The Rafah fishermen had six fishing trawlers,” Sehwail recalled. “All of them were bombed and burned. I tried to keep my own small boat and nets for as long as I could, but they were destroyed by the occupation just days before we were displaced in May 2024.”

At Khan Younis port, the aftermath is no different. The harbour has turned into a crowded displacement site. Broken or burned boats are no longer vessels but tent supports, tied with ropes to hold fragile shelters in place.

A rusted metal skeleton of a trawler protrudes from the sand where displaced children now play around. But even in ruin, fishermen improvise.

“What we do now is try not to die,” Sehwail said. “We borrow tools. Some even turn refrigerator parts into floating boards. We have no motors, only paddles. We use whatever is left.”

Originally from the coastal village of Jourat Asqalan, depopulated of its Palestinian residents during the 1948 Nakba and the formation of Israel, Sehwail’s bond with the sea runs generations deep. “The connection is powerful,” he said. “My home in Rafah was also near the beach. Even in displacement, the sea keeps me company. But now my children and their families are scattered across displacement camps.”

No safety

Material destruction has been only part of the toll for Gaza’s fishermen. According to the Gaza Fishermen’s Syndicate, at least 238 fishermen have been killed by Israel since October 2023, whether at sea or on land, among more than 72,000 Palestinians.

The sector once consisted of more than 5,000 fishermen providing for more than 50,000 family members, who depended on fishing as a primary source of income. And Israeli violations have continued since the “ceasefire” began in October, with more than 20 fishermen reported to have been killed or detained.

“The sea is practically closed,” said Zakaria Baker, the head of Gaza’s Fishermen Syndicate, in a recent interview with Al Jazeera.

Baker explained that some fishermen do not risk venturing more than 800 metres (2,625 feet) offshore in small boats, as there is still uncertainty over how far they can go into the sea.

Standing on the shore, Sehwail pointed toward an Israeli naval boat.

“They are always there,” he said. “There is no official clearance for us. We enter at our own risk. The farthest we can go is about 800 metres, and even that depends on their mood.”

He described sudden chases by the Israeli navy: boats shot at or sunk, fishermen detained.

“They can see clearly what we are doing,” he said. “But it depends on the soldier’s mood whether he lets you fish or decides to shoot you dead.”

“Israel ‘executed’ fishing in Gaza,” Sehwail said, repeating the phrase in pain. “What we do now is not real fishing. It’s risking your life for the hope of bringing back one or two fish to your tent.”

Critical source of food

Before the genocide, Gaza’s fisheries sector played a vital role in food security and poverty alleviation. According to the United Nations, by the end of 2024, the sector was operating at less than 7.3 percent of its pre-October 2023 production capacity. The UN also estimated that 72 percent of Gaza’s fishing fleet had been damaged or destroyed.

The collapse has severely affected food availability, income generation, and community resilience. The reduction of fishing access to less than a nautical mile (1.85km) has drastically limited both quantity and species variety.

“The further west we used to go, the more variety [of fish] we could find,” Sehwail explained. “But now in shallow waters, you find only small quantities and mostly juvenile sardines that should be left to grow. But people needed whatever they could find.”

Months of Israeli starvation have turned fresh protein into a rarity; thus, fish is a special luxury.

Even now, with the relative relief brought by the “ceasefire”, fish seen in Gaza’s markets are largely frozen imports, often more expensive than fresh local fish was before the genocide. Catastrophic economic collapse means many families cannot afford them.

Baker emphasised that rehabilitation and recovery require more than ceasefire declarations. “No materials or compensation have been allowed in so far,” he said, “Israeli restrictions continue to block the entry of equipment. Fishermen need stable and safe conditions to return to work without fear of Israeli bullets.”

“The fishermen are simple, poor people,” Sehwail said. “We only want to live with dignity and provide for our families. Across Gaza from north to south, we’re all in need of support to finally fish as we actually deserve.”

The crossing with Egypt is considered vital for the delivery of humanitarian aid and the evacuation of critically ill patients.

Israel has closed Gaza’s Rafah border crossing with Egypt amid the joint Israeli-United States attacks on Iran.

“Several necessary security adjustments have been implemented, including the closure of the crossings into the Gaza Strip, among them the Rafah Crossing, until further notice,” Israel’s Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories (COGAT) said in a statement.

The Rafah crossing, located on Gaza’s southern border, had reopened only last month, allowing a limited number of Palestinians to leave for the first time in months, including patients in urgent need of medical care.

The crossing is considered vital for the delivery of humanitarian aid and the evacuation of critically ill patients.

Virtually all of Gaza’s population of more than two million people was displaced during Israel’s genocidal war on the territory, and the enclave remains heavily dependent on humanitarian assistance.

In mid-February, the United Nations said it continued to face impediments in delivering lifesaving aid to Gaza.

In a February report, Human Rights Watch said Israeli restrictions had contributed to shortages of medicines, reconstruction materials, food and water inside the Strip.

COGAT claimed that sufficient food had entered Gaza since the start of the ceasefire to meet four times the nutritional needs of the population. However, it did not provide any evidence to back its claim.

“The substantial quantities of food that have entered since the beginning of the ceasefire amount to four times the nutritional needs of the population,” the Israeli defence body said. “Therefore, the existing stock is expected to suffice for an extended period.”

It added that “the closure of the crossings will have no impact on the humanitarian situation in the Gaza Strip”, saying it would remain in contact with the international community and provide updates on any developments.

COGAT is the Israeli military body responsible for overseeing civil affairs in the occupied Palestinian territory. Critics say it functions as an instrument of surveillance and control, particularly in enforcing movement restrictions and closures.

Dr Hussam Abu Safiya has been held in an Israeli prison for more than a year without charges or trial. Recently, he’s been subject to a smear campaign claiming he is a Hamas colonel. Al Jazeera’s Yasmeen Aboujabal looks at how such campaigns are being used to discredit Palestinian health workers.

Recreational activities combined with yoga in Gaza help children recover a sense of normalcy despite war, teacher says.

Gaza City – In northern Gaza, a Palestinian teacher has transformed a tent into a small space for yoga classes, offering children moments of peace from the hardships of daily life in the besieged enclave.

The idea to bring the practice to Gaza City came from Hadeel al-Gharbawi, who has been working on finding ways to help children cope with trauma. Through simple movements and breathing, the class offers moments of calm, safety and joy.

Children sit cross-legged on a thick mat, eyes shut. Some concentrate, while others fight back shy smiles, sneaking sideways glances to see whether their classmates are following the teacher’s instructions, amused by the unfamiliar exercise.

“I wanted to expand the activities I do with children beyond drawing and colouring. I searched online and discovered that yoga can help children recover from trauma,” al-Gharbawi told Al Jazeera.

“Since yoga isn’t widely available here in Gaza, I decided to learn online and practice it with the children. Through yoga, they can release stress and cope with the difficult life around them.”

Children in Gaza have been exposed to continuous cycles of violence and trauma, profoundly affecting their mental health, according to a report by the World Health Organization.

The constant bombing, displacement, loss of family members and physical pain of Israel’s two-year war on Gaza have caused emotional distress, social withdrawal and grief, among other symptoms, the report says.

International organisations have been warning that the conflict will leave a long-lasting impact.

“All children in Gaza require mental health, and psychosocial support services after two years of horrific war, displacement, and exposure to traumatic events,” the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) said earlier this month.

This is why yoga classes are more than physical exercise in Gaza; they allow children to step away from fear, release emotions, and feel in control, even for a few minutes, the participants say.

“We come here to do yoga, to learn and to do art,” Suwar, a displaced student, told Al Jazeera. “These activities allow us to forget, even for a short time, the war, the harsh weather and the queues for water. Yoga, in particular, gives us a moment of calm and helps us feel safe and happy.”

Alongside yoga, the tent offers educational and recreational programmes that al-Gharbawi said aim to activate the children’s imaginations.

“Combining learning with playful and therapeutic activities helps the children deal with trauma and regain a sense of normalcy,” al-Gharbawi said.

The smell hits you before you even see the tents. In the al-Taawun camp, wedged between Yarmouk Stadium and al-Sahaba Street in central Gaza City, the line between human habitation and human waste has been erased.

Forced to flee their homes by Israel’s genocidal war in Gaza, 765 families have set up makeshift shelters directly on top of and adjacent to an enormous solid waste dump. Here, amid mountains of rotting garbage, they are fighting a losing battle against disease, pests and the psychological horror of living in filth.

Fayez al-Jadi, a father who has been displaced 12 times since the war began, said the conditions are stripping them of their humanity.

“The rats eat the tents from underneath,” al-Jadi told Al Jazeera. “They walk on our faces while we sleep. My daughter is 18 months old. A rat ran right over her face. Every day, she has gastroenteritis, vomiting, diarrhoea or malnutrition.”

Al-Jadi’s plea is not for a luxury accommodation, just a mere 40 to 50 metres (130ft to 164ft) of clean space to live in, he said. “We want to live like human beings.”

‘We wake up screaming’

The sanitary crisis has unleashed a plague of skin infections among the 4,000 residents of the camp. With no running water or sewage system, scabies has spread like wildfire.

Fares Jamal Sobh, a six-month-old infant, spends his nights crying. His mother points to the red, angry rashes covering his small body.

“He doesn’t sleep at night because of the itching,” she said. “We wake up to find cockroaches and mosquitoes on him. We bring medicine, but it’s useless because we are living on trash.”

Um Hamza, a grandmother caring for a large extended family, including a blind husband and a son suffering from asthma, said shame is no longer compounding their suffering.

“We’ve stopped being ashamed to say my daughter is covered in scabies,” she told Al Jazeera. “We’ve used five or six bottles of ointment, but it’s in vain.”

She added that the collapse of Gaza’s healthcare system has left them with nowhere to turn. “The hospitals, like al-Ahli, have started turning us away. … They write us a prescription and tell us to go buy it, but there is no medicine to buy.”

A city drowning in waste

The conditions at al-Taawun are a microcosm of a citywide collapse. Hamada Abu Laila, a university lecturer who helps administer the camp, warned of an “environmental catastrophe” exacerbated by the lack of sewage networks and drinking water across Gaza City.

But the problem goes deeper than a lack of aid. According to Husni Muhanna, spokesperson for the Gaza Municipality, the crisis is man-made. Israeli forces have blocked access to the Gaza Strip’s main landfill in the east, forcing the creation of hazardous temporary dumps in populated areas like Yarmouk and the historic Firas Market.

“More than 350,000 tonnes of solid waste are piling up inside Gaza City alone,” Muhanna told Al Jazeera in January.

He explained that the municipality is paralysed by a “complex set of obstacles”, including the destruction of machinery, severe fuel shortages and constant security risks. With interventions limited to primitive means, the municipality can no longer manage waste in accordance with health standards, leaving thousands of displaced families to sleep atop a toxic time bomb.

Sleeping next to a tank shell

The dangers in al-Taawun are not just biological. Rizq Abu Laila, displaced from the town of Beit Lahiya in the north, lives with his family next to an unexploded tank shell that lies among the rubbish bags and plastic sheets.

“We are living next to a dump full of snakes and stray cats,” Abu Laila said, pointing to the ordnance. “This is an unexploded shell right next to the tents. With the heat of the sun, it could explode at any moment. Where are we supposed to go with our children?”

His daughter, Shahd, is terrified of the pack of wild dogs that roam the dump at night. “I’m afraid of the dogs because they bark,” she whispered.

Widad Sobh, another resident, described the nights as a horror movie. “The dogs bang against the tent fabric. … They want to attack and eat. I stay up all night chasing them away.”

For Um Hamza, the daily struggle for survival has reached a breaking point.

“I swear by God, we eat bread after the rats have eaten from it,” she said, describing the desperate hunger in the camp. “All I ask is that they find us a better place, … a place away from the waste.”