Gazas

Deir el-Balah, Gaza Strip – Every morning, Abdel Karim Salman begins his routine by heading out carrying his own phone and his wife’s phone, both completely drained of charge. He walks to a nearby charging point to plug them in and recharge them again.

Throughout the night, Abdel Karim relies entirely on the torches from the phones to light the inside of the tent he lives in with his family in central Gaza’s Deir el-Balah.

Abdel Karim, 28, a former civil engineer at the Beit Lahiya municipality in northern Gaza, was displaced to Deir el-Balah a year and a half ago with his wife and two children, along with about  30 members of his extended family.

His family home was completely destroyed on October 9, 2023, in the first few days of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza.

Abdel Karim and his family have been on a difficult journey of displacement since then, with little in the way of normality, and in particular, a regular source of electricity for a bulb in his tent.

So he looks for alternatives to light up the structure, namely the phones, despite the rapid battery drain caused by keeping the torch function on.

“I charge my phone and my wife’s phone, and we use them for lighting at night, especially since my children are under five years old and they get scared if they wake up in the dark,” he says.

Abdel Karim says that the suffering caused by electricity shortages in Gaza is one of the largest “silent” forms of suffering that receives little attention.

For Abdel Karim, the charging process itself has turned into a daily, exhausting burden.

He walks between 150 and 200 metres every day to reach a charging point, paying between two and four shekels ($0.65 to $1.30) per charging session, twice a day.

“That means about eight to 10 shekels ($2.55 to $3.20) per day just for charging phones,” Abdel Karim explains, equivalent to approximately 270 to 300 shekels ($86 to $95) per month, a large amount given the lack of income among displaced families in Gaza amid the territory’s war-driven economic crisis.

“Many days and nights we sleep in darkness inside our tent. When we can’t charge the phones, they turn off, and we are unable to recharge them.”

Few options

With municipality-supplied electricity absent for two years in Gaza, several temporary alternatives have emerged, such as solar-powered lamps, but they remain unaffordable for most residents, having increased tenfold to about 300 shekels ($95) during the war.

As for solar energy systems, they are even more expensive, reaching $420 per panel, and with the additional cost of a battery – about $1,200 – and an inverter. All these items are also scarce due to severe Israeli restrictions on their entry into the Gaza Strip since the beginning of the war.

For Abdel Karim, who lost his job soon after the war began, those sums are out of his reach.

Among the alternative solutions introduced during the war are private generator-based electricity systems operating on diesel fuel.

However, those are also unaffordable for many, and their services have fluctuated due to irregular fuel supplies through the crossings.

And so, with most options simply too expensive, that leaves many in Gaza in the same boat as Abdel Karim.

The impact of the power cuts is not limited to lighting or charging, but extends to every detail of daily life, especially for families with children.

“There is no refrigerator, no washing machine … even baby milk cannot be stored for more than two or three hours,” Abdel Karim explains, as he remembers his previous life, when his home was filled with electrical appliances and reliable power.

“The phone charging socket used to be right beside my bed. I could plug it in whenever I wanted. Today, that has become a dream inside this tent,” Abdel Karim adds.

He also says his children have been psychologically affected, especially his eldest son, due to the lack of any means of electronic entertainment or distraction from his grim surroundings.

“There is no TV or screen. He keeps asking for the phone all the time just to calm down, but that also needs charging. Everything is dependent on electricity.”

According to Abdel Karim, his suffering is not an exception. He believes almost all of the people in Gaza are living the same reality, noting that even families in nearby camps who tried to pool resources to buy energy systems have been unable to afford them.

“We hope God brings relief … because we are truly left without any solutions, as if we were abandoned in the desert.”

Longstanding problem

On October 7, 2023, Hamas launched an attack on southern Israel, and Israel then began its war on Gaza.

More than two years on, Gaza has been decimated by Israeli attacks – on top of the more than 75,000 Palestinians killed.

But even before the war, Gaza faced daily rolling blackouts due to limited power imports from Israel and fuel shortages.

Israel, despite withdrawing its illegal settlements from Gaza in 2005, continued to control access into and out of the Palestinian enclave, and repeatedly attacked it.

And so, even in normal conditions, most households only received a few hours of electricity per day, relying on a fragile mix of imported supply and Gaza’s one power plant.

The situation escalated sharply after October 7, when Israel declared a “complete siege” on Gaza, cutting electricity supply and blocking fuel imports.

Within days, Gaza’s power plant shut down due to fuel depletion, and by October 11, 2023, the territory entered a full electricity blackout, according to United Nations agencies.

With no fuel entering and transmission lines cut, homes, hospitals, water systems and communication networks lost reliable access to power, shifting to limited and increasingly unsustainable generator use.

Since then, Gaza’s electricity infrastructure has continued to deteriorate due to both fuel shortages and widespread physical destruction of the grid. Generators remain the primary alternative but are severely constrained by fuel scarcity, affecting essential services such as healthcare, water production and telecommunications.

During the time between 2025 and 2026, Gaza’s power system is widely described as effectively non-functional, with electricity access fragmented, inconsistent and largely dependent on emergency solutions rather than a stable grid.

An opportunity

The severe electricity crisis has created an indirect source of income for Jamal Musbah, 50, who runs a mobile phone charging station powered by solar energy and a generator line.

Before the war, Jamal worked as a farmer and owned two agricultural plots on the eastern borders of Deir el-Balah. Today, they have been bulldozed and fall under Israeli control.

His charging station has instead become his main source of income, supporting his eight children.

“I had an energy system consisting of six panels, batteries, and a device, which I used for pumping water and irrigating the remaining land around my house before the war,” Jamal says to Al Jazeera.

As an alternative income source after the war and the electricity blackout in Gaza, Jamal repurposed his solar system to provide basic phone charging services to residents, though this came with major challenges.

“The demand for charging was extremely high, and my batteries were exhausted within the first months, as electricity became very scarce at home,” he adds.

However, things worsened when a neighbouring house was targeted, destroying four of his six solar panels, significantly reducing his capacity and income.

At the beginning of the service, Jamal also offered food refrigeration services alongside phone and battery charging, but after the damage and battery depletion, he had to stop those services.

“We used to charge about 100 to 200 phones daily. Now we only manage 50 to 60 at most due to reduced efficiency of the solar panels,” Jamal says, attributing this also to weather conditions, clouds and the winter season, when solar efficiency drops significantly.

“In winter, you look for alternatives to solar panels and turn to generators that barely work … the electricity crisis makes you feel like you are running in a never-ending cycle of suffering.”

His charging station now operates with a small system of two panels and one battery.

People from nearby areas, including university students and displaced families, rely on it due to a lack of alternatives and the inability to afford generator-based electricity subscriptions.

“My sons are university graduates and earn their living from this station. We charge 1 to 2 shekels per phone.”

Even though Jamal is able to make some money out of the crisis, he ultimately faces the same hardships as others in Gaza do.

“Economic hardship has affected all of us … even basic services like phone charging have become a heavy burden. There are no local solutions to this crisis.”

“The only real and lasting solution is the official restoration of electricity to the Gaza Strip.”

In the final hours of her life on January 29, 2024, Hind Rajab’s feeble voice could be heard desperately pleading with her mother and emergency workers for help, as she was trapped in a car surrounded by the bodies of six of her relatives.

After finally getting clearance from the Israeli military in Gaza City, a Red Crescent ambulance raced to save the five-year-old girl. But two paramedics were killed when their marked vehicle – whose sirens were blaring – came under Israeli tank fire. The remains of the nine victims were recovered 12 days later.

Two years after the tragedy, a report claims this was a “double tap” attack by the Israeli army. A double-tap strike essentially means carrying out two strikes on the same target, often wounding or killing medics and civilians who are coming to the aid of people harmed in the first attack.

Analysis by the legal campaign group Avaaz has found evidence that the killings contravened international combat law under the Geneva Conventions and the Rome Statute.

“By reconstructing the coordination and timing around the approved ambulance mission, it shows that there is substantial evidence of a deliberate ‘double-tap’ tactic – an initial military strike followed with a deliberately timed second strike targeting emergency responders and medical personnel who arrive to help,” Avaaz says in its report exclusively shared with Al Jazeera. “The brief brings together the timeline of events up to and beyond Hind’s death, showing what Israeli forces must have been aware of at each stage, and the frequent opportunities they had to pull back from murder.

“It documents over 40 human rights violations and ties together how those violations are evidence of a double-tap attack on the hospital workers. Each violation builds to an alarming possibility: Israel is not only killing Palestinians – it is systematically killing those who try to save them. The message is clear: If the medical community tries to help, it will be extinguished.”

More than 1,500 healthcare workers have been killed during Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza, including several since a so-called “ceasefire” came into effect in October.

Avaaz, building on previous investigations by Al Jazeera in partnership with the Hind Rajab Foundation and other media organisations, claims there is clear evidence that this double strike constituted a war crime. The campaign group is now urging the International Criminal Court (ICC) to bring those responsible to justice.

At the time of publishing, the Israeli military had not responded to Al Jazeera’s request for comment.

‘I am absolutely convinced that this is another case of double tap’

Al Jazeera, in partnership with the Hind Rajab Foundation, last year revealed evidence of deliberate killings.

The Israeli government initially claimed that none of its forces was present at the time, later asserting that the 335 bullet holes found in the family’s car were the result of an exchange of fire between Israeli soldiers and Palestinian fighters.

However, a subsequent investigation of satellite imagery and audio from that day by the multidisciplinary research group Forensic Architecture, based at Goldsmiths, the University of London, identified only the presence of several Israeli Merkava tanks in the vicinity of the family’s car and no evidence of any exchange of fire.

The Avaaz report highlights that the ambulance obtained permission from COGAT, an arm of the Israeli military, to go to Hind’s aid, so Israeli forces knew exactly when the first responders would arrive and the route they would take. About three hours passed between the initial shooting of the family vehicle and the attack on the ambulance, indicating the Israeli army had ample opportunity for “situational awareness, communication, and command decision-making”, the report adds.

Avaaz says the ambulance was attacked by a tank in a way that could not have been a warning shot if the military had any reason to believe it was not there to rescue Hind. Instead, the assault “points to lethal targeting”.

The Israeli army gave no warning before attacking the ambulance, previous investigations have found.

“I have taken the investigations done by a number of independent journalistic outfits. I was really struck by the evidence at the end of the whole horrendous incident,” said Sarah Andrew, legal director of Avaaz, who added that as a mother, Hind’s death made her think of her own daughter. “In particular, the kind of weaponry that was used on the ambulance, the timing and the fact that no warning was given – it immediately triggered a question in my mind, and I am absolutely convinced that this is another case of double tap.”

She told Al Jazeera: “It is something that has not had attention, and we would like to take this with [an independent legal] partner to the ICC.”

“What I have done is establish a legal framework for the previous investigation. I think it is very important that we also look at what happened to the ambulance workers as well as what happened to Hind and her family.”

The report says, “Even where an attacking force claims it suspects misuse of a medical vehicle, international humanitarian law requires warnings and an opportunity to comply before an attack can be lawful.”

Andrew said the Israeli military has yet to explain why a tank fired on an ambulance.

“We have not heard from the people responsible. I want them to appear before the ICC and hear what on earth was in their mind when they ordered 120mm tank rounds to be fired into an ambulance,” she said. “Justice is first of all bringing the light of attention into this crime and secondly seeing the persons responsible being accountable for their actions.”

Professor James Sweeney, from the University of Lancaster, who is an expert on human rights and conflict, said in double-tap attacks, the second strike is usually within five to 10 minutes.

It can also mean letting off a small explosion to induce rescuers to respond, then exploding another bomb once they are near.

“The [Avaaz] brief says that the attack on the ambulance should be considered a double tap, but usually the second attack would be within five to 20 minutes and would be considered a trick,” he told Al Jazeera. “It would seem that [in this case] the passage of time was greater, but that does not take anything away from the fact that the attack on the ambulance was so unlawful. You could see it as a form of double-tap, but it is not my normal understanding of it. But in any case, it does not take away from the fact that these were war crimes.”

The Hind Rajab Foundation said in a statement, “The double tap arguments are consistent with our analysis as well. We are continuously preparing for new filings against responsible soldiers in various jurisdictions.

“We have 24 names of responsible perpetrators. We are open to work together with Avaaz on a filing specifically regarding the attack on the ambulance.”

Khan Younis, Gaza Strip – Historic landmarks often withstand centuries of volatile change, but when rockets and missiles fall, even the most enduring stones become fragile.

For generations of families in Gaza’s southern city of Khan Younis, the Grain Market was the first stop when they went shopping.

Reaching it meant walking past the historic Barquq Castle, a centuries-old structure dating back to 1387 and the very foundation of Khan Younis.

But for residents, the castle was more than an old monument; it was a familiar landmark marking the entrance to one of the city’s liveliest commercial spaces.

The aromatic scent of spices and dried herbs would accompany any walk towards the Grain Market.

But that was before Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza began. Israeli attacks inflicted heavy damage on the Grain Market and the Barquq Castle. The market has now been reduced to shattered alleys, with dust and heavy silence filling the air.

Sitting in his store along a row of damaged old shops, 60-year-old Nahed Barbakh, one of the city’s oldest and most well-known traders of staple food supplies, spent decades watching customers stream through the market. Now, only a handful pass by his shop.

“I’ve been in this spot for decades, day in and day out, watching people bring life to this place,” Nahed said. “Look at it now – it’s empty. These days, there shouldn’t even be space to walk because of the crowds preparing for Eid.”

He paused before gesturing towards the nearby castle.

“We always felt the weight of history here because we are so close to Barquq Castle. Now that history and life itself have been struck by the occupation.”

But Israeli fire did not take into account the market’s historic status. The Grain Market, long considered the economic heart of Khan Younis, was also among the first sites of destruction during the second month of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza. More than two years of Israeli bombardment and repeated waves of displacement have left the market unrecognisable.

“The occupation killed many of our friends who worked here,” Nahed said quietly. “Those who survived have been financially broken. That’s why you see most of these shops are still closed.”

He pointed to some shelves behind him.

“My shop used to be fully stocked with goods at its high capacity. We even had extra warehouses to supply what people needed, especially during the busiest seasons.”

Before he could finish his sentence, a deafening blast interrupted him — the sound of an Israeli tank fire.

“And this is the biggest reason people are afraid to return,” Nahed said abruptly. “The yellow line is only a few hundred metres away from this street. At any moment, bullets can reach here.”

The yellow line is the name given to the demarcation line behind which Israeli forces withdrew as part of the first phase of October’s ceasefire agreement. It effectively divides Gaza into two, and Palestinians have repeatedly been shot for approaching it.

The yellow line has divided Khan Younis, dramatically reshaping the city’s geography. Israel has repeatedly shifted the line, moving it deeper into Gaza.

The Grain Market, once firmly at the centre of urban life, now sits close to the yellow line.

What used to be the city’s commercial heart has effectively turned into its edge, where people hesitate to walk, leaving the revival of daily commerce life a distant prospect.

Centuries of endurance

The Grain Market traces its origins to the late 14th century, when the Mamluk ruler Younis al-Nawruzi established Khan Younis in 1387 as a strategic stop along the trade route linking Egypt and the Levant.

Built as an extension of the Barquq Castle, which functioned as a caravanserai for travelling merchants, the market became a central commercial hub where traders and travellers exchanged goods, moving between Africa, the Levant and beyond.

The Grain Market occupies roughly 2,400sq metres (25,830sq feet). Its single-floor shops line a central street running east to west, intersected by narrow alleys branching towards smaller courtyards. The buildings preserve elements of their original construction, including sandstone walls and traditional binding materials that have survived centuries of repairs and modifications.

Over time, the market evolved into the primary commercial centre of Khan Younis, adapting to modern commerce while retaining its historic character.

But today, many of its shops stand damaged or shuttered.

According to Gaza’s Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, the market is now among more than 200 heritage sites damaged in attacks by Israeli forces across the Gaza Strip since October 2023.

At the southern end of the Grain Market, where rows of vegetable stalls once overflowed with fresh produce, only one makeshift stand has opened.

Om Saed al-Farra, a local, stepped cautiously towards the stall, inspecting the small piles of vegetables laid out on a wooden crate. The expression on her face reflected more than surprise; it was disbelief at what the market had become.

“The market is deplorable now,” she said. “There used to be many stalls here and many choices for people.”

She gestured towards the empty stretch of the market’s vegetable section, once one of its busiest corners.

“These days were once filled with extensive joyful preparations for Eid, when families crowded the market to shop for food and essentials,” al-Farra said. “Now the market feels unusually gloomy, its stalls largely empty and its familiar vibrance gone. Everything is limited. Even if you have money, there are hardly any places left here for us to buy from.”

Economic collapse under fire

Although parts of the market’s infrastructure remain physically standing, many traders have not returned.

According to Khan Younis Mayor Alaa el-Din al-Batta, the Grain Market was once one of the city’s most vital economic lifelines.

“Just as it once connected continents, even under blockade, it continued to connect people across Gaza,” al-Batta said. “It holds a deep place in the memory of our residents. But once again, the occupation has brought destruction, targeting both our history and a critical lifeline for the people.”

For nearly two decades, Israel has controlled Gaza’s land crossings, airspace and coastline under a strict blockade. Since the genocide began in October 2023, restrictions have tightened further, pushing businesses and trade to collapse.

In a narrow western alley where scattered stones cover the ground, two cloaks hung outside a small shop. Inside, 57-year-old tailor Mohammad Abdul Ghafour leaned over his sewing machine, carefully stitching a torn shirt.

His shop was the only one open in the grey alley.

“I’ve been here since childhood,” Abdul Ghafour said. “My father opened this shop in 1956, and I grew up learning the profession right here in the market.”

Israel’s bombardment not only destroyed the place where he worked; it also killed dozens of his family members.

“On December 7, 2023, Israel committed a horrific massacre against my family,” he said. “I lost my father, my brothers, and more than 30 relatives.”

Burying his family members was only the beginning of the long, painful separation from the market and his shop.

“We were forced into displacement more than 12 times. I had many chances to leave as two of my children live in Europe,” Abdul Ghafour said. “But all I could think about was returning to my shop.”

When Israeli forces withdrew to the yellow line, he came back alone.

“I cleaned the street by myself. And if I had to do it again, I would. Whoever loves his land never abandons it,” he said. “I charge my batteries for my machine and come every day. My return encouraged some residents to come back too. But people still need shelter, water, and basic services before more families return.”

Resident Mohammad Shahwan stood in Nahed’s shop checking a list of items he hoped to buy.

“We left the crowded al-Mawasi as soon as we could to return to our damaged home,” he said, referring to the stretch of coastal Khan Younis that thousands of Palestinians have been forcibly displaced to. “But the number of residents here is still very small because of the destruction and lack of services.”

Still, Mohammad Shahwan said he was relieved to find the shop open at all.

“For the first time in two years, we’ll make traditional Eid biscuits,” he said, holding the list of ingredients. “The last two Eids were dark for my family after we lost my 17-year-old son, Salama. He and his aunt were killed by an Israeli strike.”

He could have bought the now-expensive supplies elsewhere, he said, but returning to the Grain Market carried its own meaning. “I wanted to buy them from here, just like we always did.”

Waiting for restoration

According to Mayor al-Batta, restoring the historic market will require a major reconstruction effort.

“The Grain Market needs a comprehensive restoration process to function again,” he said. “So far, our work has only been limited to clearing rubble and delivering limited water supplies for returning residents.”

The rebuilding process will require specialised materials and expert restoration work to preserve what is left of the historic structure. Municipal workers have already collected leftover stones from the ruins in the hope that they can one day be used in rebuilding parts of the market.

But reconstruction remains impossible under current conditions.

“More than five months have passed since the ceasefire began, yet not a single bag of cement has entered Gaza,” al-Batta said.

“We want to restore our historic identity and revive life for our people. But neither can happen while Israeli restrictions and violations continue.”

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.”