Israel Squeezes, and Gaza Strip Adapts to a Vise
By IAN FISHER
Published: July 2, 2006
GAZA, July 1 — Omar Areny's wife had left their 11th-floor apartment here only once in three days. When the power is out — which is often since the Israeli military knocked out nearly half of Gaza's power supply on Wednesday — that means a long climb up the stairs.
"It's a prison but there are no guards," said Mr. Areny, 40, waiting for the power to return as Israeli artillery shells thudded nearby on Friday. "You are obliged to stay in your house."
No electricity means not only no elevators, but also less water, refrigeration and air-conditioning in the middle of summer. The Israeli military campaign in Gaza — aimed at forcing the release of a captured Israeli soldier — has come with other problems: the closed borders have locked out fuel, which has nearly run dry, and food. The sonic booms set off by Israeli jets in the night terrify the Arenys' four children.
Even after so many years of fighting, Mr. Areny said, Israel had again misunderstood the Palestinian mind.
He and others here believe the military campaign is aimed less at fighters than at making Palestinians' lives so miserable that they turn against their government, which is now run by the militant group Hamas. Hamas's military wing led the attack into Israel last Sunday in which the soldier was captured.
"I don't like the government, but in these circumstances I will support it," said Mr. Areny, a member of Fatah, Hamas's rival. "I cannot stand with the Israelis against our people."
Nearly a week after the attack in which the Israeli soldier was taken, the Israeli military operation has not yet created a full-blown crisis for the 1.3 million people who live in the already poor and violent Gaza Strip.
But aid groups worry that one could come more quickly now than it might have under other circumstances. Gaza has already been squeezed financially — and civil servants like Mr. Areny not paid for four months — since Hamas, classified by the United States and the European Union as a terrorist group, took power in January elections and the West cut off financial aid.
"They are heading for the abyss unless they get electricity and fuel restored," Jan Egeland, the United Nations emergency coordinator, told reporters in New York on Thursday.
In recent days, the United Nations and the International Committee of the Red Cross have been negotiating with Israel to allow into Gaza emergency stores of food, fuel and medical supplies. No decision had been made as of late Saturday, and it remained unclear how long the current crisis would last.
On Wednesday, Israeli missiles destroyed all six transformers in Gaza's only power plant, which supplied nearly half of the strip's electricity. Gaza is now completely reliant on Israel for power, which is being rationed around the strip, in an erratic schedule that gives residents only a few hours of power a day.
Meantime, with the borders completely shut since Sunday, officials estimate at most a few days' worth of fuel remains — and many gasoline stations have already run out.
On Friday afternoon, Mahmoud Saleh, 33, a taxi driver, pushed his empty car into a gas station near the beach, only to find the last drops had been sold the day before.
"It's a disaster," said the station's accountant, Akram Majid, 29, as the employees, with nothing else to do, worked on lighting up fragrant sheesha tobacco in a big water pipe to pass the time. "Everything will stop. We will go back thousands of years."
Water is also quickly becoming a problem: without electricity to work water pumps — and with a shortage of diesel to run generators — 130,000 Gazans, mostly in rural areas, have been left without a regular supply, according to the United Nations.
And the problems compound: some 160,000 Gazans, half of them widows, the disabled and blind, are dependent on the United Nations World Food Program for food, which comes in rations of chick peas, flour, oil and salt.
But Kirstie Campbell, a spokeswoman for the World Food Program, said the concern was that people would not be able to cook without adequate water and fuel.
"You can't eat flour," she said. "You can't eat dry chick peas."
Some of the problems of the last few days seem more like inconveniences, although they go down as badly here as they would anywhere. People have been unable to check their e-mail messages regularly, because the power cuts have also affected Internet network computer servers. Beaches, normally crowded on hot days, are nearly empty for fear of an Israeli artillery shell, from the regular artillery rounds or from the Israeli gunboats off the coast.
At his grocery store in Gaza, Osama Abu Hamdah, 25, opened his refrigerator, which had been on only two hours that day, so a visitor could smell the rotting meat and cheese. He slid open the ice cream freezer to reveal a pile of soggy, flat wrappers.
"It's not fair," he said. "It's collective punishment."
In a place where seafood is a major part of the diet, fishermen have been warned by Israeli gunboat patrols not to go beyond the coast all week. Al Shifa Hospital, the largest in Gaza, has been almost entirely reliant on its generator this week. The hospital has stored up two weeks' worth of fuel, which officials hope is enough.
But worries persist about the generator itself — "which is a machine which may at any time stop," said Dr. Jumaa Saqqa, the hospital's spokesman.
Many are worried too about the longer-term effects of the violence on their children. Violence here is caused not only by Israelis but also by fighting among Palestinians factions, but residents here say that in the last week Israeli sonic booms — which cause houses to shudder and sound like massive bombs exploding overhead — have been especially terrifying.
Mahmoud Bahador, 30, a car mechanic, said that one night this week, his 3-year-old son, Moamin, bolted out of bed after one of the booms in search of his toy gun to defend himself.
"I told him, 'Don't be afraid. They aren't here,' " he said. "But he didn't understand."
On Friday afternoon, as if on cue, an Israeli F-16 shattered the sound barrier over a double wedding here, already noisy with drums, a tambourine, a traditional flute and, as is custom in many Arab countries, rounds of celebratory gunfire in the air.
"What should we do?" asked one of the grooms, Ayman Arichy, 25. "This is my wedding, and Israeli bombers are scaring us. Life goes on."
Published: July 2, 2006
GAZA, July 1 — Omar Areny's wife had left their 11th-floor apartment here only once in three days. When the power is out — which is often since the Israeli military knocked out nearly half of Gaza's power supply on Wednesday — that means a long climb up the stairs.
"It's a prison but there are no guards," said Mr. Areny, 40, waiting for the power to return as Israeli artillery shells thudded nearby on Friday. "You are obliged to stay in your house."
No electricity means not only no elevators, but also less water, refrigeration and air-conditioning in the middle of summer. The Israeli military campaign in Gaza — aimed at forcing the release of a captured Israeli soldier — has come with other problems: the closed borders have locked out fuel, which has nearly run dry, and food. The sonic booms set off by Israeli jets in the night terrify the Arenys' four children.
Even after so many years of fighting, Mr. Areny said, Israel had again misunderstood the Palestinian mind.
He and others here believe the military campaign is aimed less at fighters than at making Palestinians' lives so miserable that they turn against their government, which is now run by the militant group Hamas. Hamas's military wing led the attack into Israel last Sunday in which the soldier was captured.
"I don't like the government, but in these circumstances I will support it," said Mr. Areny, a member of Fatah, Hamas's rival. "I cannot stand with the Israelis against our people."
Nearly a week after the attack in which the Israeli soldier was taken, the Israeli military operation has not yet created a full-blown crisis for the 1.3 million people who live in the already poor and violent Gaza Strip.
But aid groups worry that one could come more quickly now than it might have under other circumstances. Gaza has already been squeezed financially — and civil servants like Mr. Areny not paid for four months — since Hamas, classified by the United States and the European Union as a terrorist group, took power in January elections and the West cut off financial aid.
"They are heading for the abyss unless they get electricity and fuel restored," Jan Egeland, the United Nations emergency coordinator, told reporters in New York on Thursday.
In recent days, the United Nations and the International Committee of the Red Cross have been negotiating with Israel to allow into Gaza emergency stores of food, fuel and medical supplies. No decision had been made as of late Saturday, and it remained unclear how long the current crisis would last.
On Wednesday, Israeli missiles destroyed all six transformers in Gaza's only power plant, which supplied nearly half of the strip's electricity. Gaza is now completely reliant on Israel for power, which is being rationed around the strip, in an erratic schedule that gives residents only a few hours of power a day.
Meantime, with the borders completely shut since Sunday, officials estimate at most a few days' worth of fuel remains — and many gasoline stations have already run out.
On Friday afternoon, Mahmoud Saleh, 33, a taxi driver, pushed his empty car into a gas station near the beach, only to find the last drops had been sold the day before.
"It's a disaster," said the station's accountant, Akram Majid, 29, as the employees, with nothing else to do, worked on lighting up fragrant sheesha tobacco in a big water pipe to pass the time. "Everything will stop. We will go back thousands of years."
Water is also quickly becoming a problem: without electricity to work water pumps — and with a shortage of diesel to run generators — 130,000 Gazans, mostly in rural areas, have been left without a regular supply, according to the United Nations.
And the problems compound: some 160,000 Gazans, half of them widows, the disabled and blind, are dependent on the United Nations World Food Program for food, which comes in rations of chick peas, flour, oil and salt.
But Kirstie Campbell, a spokeswoman for the World Food Program, said the concern was that people would not be able to cook without adequate water and fuel.
"You can't eat flour," she said. "You can't eat dry chick peas."
Some of the problems of the last few days seem more like inconveniences, although they go down as badly here as they would anywhere. People have been unable to check their e-mail messages regularly, because the power cuts have also affected Internet network computer servers. Beaches, normally crowded on hot days, are nearly empty for fear of an Israeli artillery shell, from the regular artillery rounds or from the Israeli gunboats off the coast.
At his grocery store in Gaza, Osama Abu Hamdah, 25, opened his refrigerator, which had been on only two hours that day, so a visitor could smell the rotting meat and cheese. He slid open the ice cream freezer to reveal a pile of soggy, flat wrappers.
"It's not fair," he said. "It's collective punishment."
In a place where seafood is a major part of the diet, fishermen have been warned by Israeli gunboat patrols not to go beyond the coast all week. Al Shifa Hospital, the largest in Gaza, has been almost entirely reliant on its generator this week. The hospital has stored up two weeks' worth of fuel, which officials hope is enough.
But worries persist about the generator itself — "which is a machine which may at any time stop," said Dr. Jumaa Saqqa, the hospital's spokesman.
Many are worried too about the longer-term effects of the violence on their children. Violence here is caused not only by Israelis but also by fighting among Palestinians factions, but residents here say that in the last week Israeli sonic booms — which cause houses to shudder and sound like massive bombs exploding overhead — have been especially terrifying.
Mahmoud Bahador, 30, a car mechanic, said that one night this week, his 3-year-old son, Moamin, bolted out of bed after one of the booms in search of his toy gun to defend himself.
"I told him, 'Don't be afraid. They aren't here,' " he said. "But he didn't understand."
On Friday afternoon, as if on cue, an Israeli F-16 shattered the sound barrier over a double wedding here, already noisy with drums, a tambourine, a traditional flute and, as is custom in many Arab countries, rounds of celebratory gunfire in the air.
"What should we do?" asked one of the grooms, Ayman Arichy, 25. "This is my wedding, and Israeli bombers are scaring us. Life goes on."
posted by HRM Deborah of Israel and the Messenger of Peace at 12:40 AM
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