A ‘Judgement Day’ marketplace and danger at the seaside in Gaza

After days unable to communicate with the world outside Gaza, an Islamic Relief worker* resumes his account of the struggles facing ordinary Palestinian families. This time, he describes venturing to the market and the seaside in the desperate search for news.

As I write, it has been around 8 days without any means of communication in Gaza. Not only has the whole world ignored our small enclave, but everyone has also been cut off inside Gaza. It is not just we can’t chat or can’t make phone calls. It affects everything.

We have no way to communicate with essential services such as medical services and ambulances, banks, and food assistance systems – and we receive no news.

In the age of communication and global aspirations to provide everyone in the world with access to the internet, Gaza is treated like an alien part of the world that does not deserve life.

Desperate for news of loved ones

I can’t imagine how my sisters living abroad feel during this latest blackout, they must be extremely worried about us. We have also been cut off from my sisters in Gaza and my wife’s family. My wife used to call her parents at night but now the night brings more worries. She wants to go to check on them, but they are sheltering about 30 km away, and the road to reach them is very dangerous.

She says she could take a taxi, but I point out that there are no taxis – they do not have fuel. The only transport here now are vans owned by people who still have some precious fuel. Some people have converted their smaller cars to run on gas once used for cooking, but that too is barely available. Reaching the south involves standing in a van crammed with goods and people, as it makes the perilous 1 to 1.5 hour drive.

‘Judgement Day’ scenes at the local market

A couple of days ago, I headed to the market to try to find someone with news of any of our loved ones and friends. As I approached from higher ground, all I could see was the enormous crowd at the market. The horizon was filled with a black carpet of heads moving as one mass. Everybody was trying to find something – maybe a can of beef or fava beans – so their family could eat. Canned food makes up our whole diet, these days.

A passer-by described the scene as, “like Judgment Day”. I could see why they felt that way.

Now, everyone in Gaza lives the same way. There are no rich and poor people. We all dress the same, there are only 1 or 2 options of clothing in the shops. We all eat the same food and drink the same, unhealthy water. We all could die any moment. We all are all afraid. This war makes no distinction between us – whether we are innocent, a civilian, a medic, a schoolteacher, a relief worker, everyone is subjected to the same treatment.

Danger at the seaside

In the afternoon, my brother told me that I could find network coverage if I went to the seashore. He said cell phones can receive signal from other networks if there are no physical barriers between the mobile and the signal tower. I told my wife, “How about a visit to the seaside?” She replied, “Seriously, we have not seen the sea in the last 100 days. Is it safe there? Wouldn’t there be bombing from the boats at sea?”.

When I explained that I want to try to call my sisters and her family, she was eager to go despite the danger. As we arrived at the cliff by the sea, I could see hundreds of people making calls. Some holding their phones high above their heads to try to receive signal. Everyone was desperate to communicate with their loved ones. I saw a friend, who told me to try to use an eSIM to try to connect to the Internet. Luckily, Islamic Relief had given me one to keep in touch about work and check on my welfare – and there, by the sea, it worked! Alhamdulillah.

Longing for connection

I found tons of messages and notifications waiting to be read. The connection was poor but at least I could send messages to our family and friends that we are okay. I also found messages from Islamic Relief colleagues, checking on how I was. It made me very happy knowing people are thinking about us and making effort to stop this war.

I felt all the gratitude in the world for everyone who is making the tiniest effort to help the people of Gaza.

We had to leave before the sun set over the sea. It made me sad, as we always loved the fabulous colours of sunset over the Mediterranean Sea. But it was dangerous to linger, and although the kids couldn’t play in the sand they enjoyed the fresh air, at least.

As I write these words I am back at my parents’ home, where there is still no internet. As soon as I can get coverage again, I will send this account to my Islamic Relief colleagues to share with you all. I hope the internet is restored soon, and more than that, I hope Palestinians can soon return to our lives and homes.

Please help Islamic Relief support people in desperate need in Gaza: Donate to our Palestine Emergency Appeal now.

*This blog is anonymised to protect the safety and security of our colleague and others mentioned.

Read the other blogs in this series here.

Editor’s note: This blog was submitted amid a fast-changing and deepening crisis. The information was correct as of Thursday 25 January 2024.