Since the start of Operation Iron Sword, provoked by Hamas’ attack on Israel, conditions in Gaza have become apocalyptic. After months of offensives, most of the territory is an uninhabitable field of ruins. 1.5 million people have been displaced, forced to constantly relocate by the advancing Israeli army. Gazans are barricaded by the sea to the west, the border with Israel to the north and east, and the border with Egypt to the south. Israel has forbidden international journalists from accessing the territory but, working alongside 29-year-old Gazan journalist Shrouq, we recount what is happening.
Like all Gazans, Shrouq is going through hell. A widow and mother, she and her young daughter are constantly on the run. Barely a third of hospitals are functioning. According to Unicef estimates, a child is injured or killed every 10 minutes in Gaza. Many have lost their legs. They are being amputated to limit infections, given the improbability of a medical follow-up.
Aid trucks are regularly attacked by gangs, who raid them in search of food, which is then sold at a premium on the market – a single cigarette costs around ten euros. Shootings often break out at distribution points, some attributed to mafia gangs, others to the Israeli army. Amid all this confusion, it’s the strongest who manage to help themselves. Food aid, when it does arrive, is highly inadequate and hardly reaches those who need it: the weakest and the poorest.
Gaza remains under the strict control of Hamas. Since 2006, there have been no elections, no freedom of speech for civilians and no criticism of the war. Throughout our investigation, no one dares mention their name. The only exception is a foreign witness, who we disguise for their protection. They describe how Hamas steals humanitarian aid and only helps those who work with them.
In the midst of this chaos, children continue to play on the beach, maing the most of cobbled-together merry-go-rounds. But survival is a constant struggle. Finding drinking water is always a preoccupation, often delegated to children. They haven’t been to school since the start of the war. But life persists in the details of everyday life. The women cook with wood, as there are no more gas bottles. Here, on the beach, can be found a dispensary for gynaecological consultations, a hairdresser and even a sewing workshop, where the machine is powered by pedals.
As the weeks turn into months, Shrouq is exhausted. Journalists recount what is happening in figures: nearly 4,000 unexploded bombs, 39 million tonnes of debris, 62% of housing destroyed. But these figures do not tell the whole story of civilian distress and despair. As she watches over her daughter, Shrouq has just one wish: “I pray for a better future, without war and suffering.”