Extreme Heat Poses New Challenge for Aid Agencies in Gaza

Flames rise following an Israeli strike on a residential building, amid the ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas, in Gaza City, in this screen grab taken from a video, August 11, 2024. Reuters TV via REUTERS
Flames rise following an Israeli strike on a residential building, amid the ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas, in Gaza City, in this screen grab taken from a video, August 11, 2024. Reuters TV via REUTERS
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Extreme Heat Poses New Challenge for Aid Agencies in Gaza

Flames rise following an Israeli strike on a residential building, amid the ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas, in Gaza City, in this screen grab taken from a video, August 11, 2024. Reuters TV via REUTERS
Flames rise following an Israeli strike on a residential building, amid the ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas, in Gaza City, in this screen grab taken from a video, August 11, 2024. Reuters TV via REUTERS

In Gaza, the sky is full of menace. As well as the missiles that rain down on schools and shelters, the brutal rays of the sun have made the summer unbearable for those struggling to survive in a ravaged landscape of ruins and rubble.
Samaher al-Daour sometimes wishes she had been killed in the early days of the Israel-Hamas war rather than have to watch her son, who lost a leg during the conflict, endure the unbearable heat.
"The situation is horrible," said Daour, 42, as she sat beside her 20-year-old son Haitham in their sweltering tent in the southern city of Khan Younis in June.
"During the day, it is incredibly hot inside and outside the tent," she said in a telephone interview with Reuters. "We go to the sea but it is still very difficult."
Haitham lost his leg in February during an Israeli airstrike on a school run by the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian Refugees (UNWRA) in the Maghazi refugee camp in the central Gaza Strip.
Now the stifling heat is denying him the rest he needs to recover his strength. He sweats all the time and this is irritating his leg and making it swell.
"He is suffering because of this," said Daour.
After 10 months of war, almost all of Gaza's 2.3 million people are displaced. They live in tents or overcrowded shelters, and there is almost no electricity and little clean water.
Hungry and weak, they cannot shower and struggle to sleep in their boiling shelters. In the heat, food is rotting, drawing insects and flies to crowded camps where people, who have been forced to flee again and again, now risk heatstroke and other heat-related diseases.
Since April, Gaza has experienced several periods of extreme heat, with temperatures reaching around 40 degrees Celsius (104 degrees Fahrenheit) during that month. Temperatures throughout August reached an average high of 34 C (93 F), according to U.S. private forecaster AccuWeather.
In late June, the World Health Organization said scorching heat could exacerbate health problems for the millions of displaced, warning that a public health crisis was looming due to the lack of clean water, food and medical supplies.
The heat is also making things more difficult for aid agencies, already hamstrung in their work by the airstrikes, fighting and ravaged infrastructure.
"It would be fair to say that the majority of humanitarian responders, including donors ... have not really considered the threats of heat and extreme heat," said Paul Knox Clarke, principal at ADAPT, a climate and humanitarian initiative.

"The horrors" humanitarian organizations address in crises, he said, often take up too much bandwidth and prevent them from tackling additional challenges, like adapting to the effects of climate change during relief operations.
"It is not unprecedented, but it's not part of the normal playbook," he said.
"It has been complicating everything," said Prabu Selvam, medical officer for the Americares relief agency, adding that the transport of medicines that need to be kept cool was proving particularly challenging.
Because of Israeli restrictions, aid trucks often spend hours under the sun, waiting for clearance.
"Of course, it is going to impact the communities, because often the cold chain medicines are the ones that are most critically in need," Selvam said.
NEW CHALLENGE FOR AID AGENCIES
Nearly 40,000 people have been killed and around 92,000 wounded since the Israeli army began its assault on Gaza, according to the Palestinian health ministry.
Israel launched its offensive after Hamas-led militants stormed into Israel on Oct. 7, killing around 1,200 people and taking around 250 hostages, according to Israeli figures.
The offensive has laid waste to homes, schools and vital infrastructure such as hospitals and clinics.
Israel has severely restricted the flow of food and aid into the Strip and humanitarian agencies have been warning of the risk of famine.
Now, the summer's extreme heat has added another layer to the suffering. Recent years have seen a series of lethal heatwaves strike the Mediterranean region and scientists say climate change is driving these dangerous heatwaves.
Save the Children is already adapting its operations in Gaza, said Fadi Dweik, a climate resilience expert at the charity.
Usually, the agency would focus on delivering mental health services and educational support as a first response, Dweik told the Thomson Reuters Foundation.
But now, it has prioritized delivering water and sanitation services and nutrition and health support.
"The conflict made us think of details and apply alternatives we had not thought of before," Dweik said. "For the first time the environmental factors are a priority because we cannot ignore them despite the war and destruction that exists."
The heat is not something Sabah Khames can ignore either.
The 62-year-old fled her home in Rafah close to the Egyptian border in May and now lives in a tent with 18 other relatives.
"The tent is a cramped caravan constructed entirely of sheet metal. It is like a sauna inside," she said in a phone interview.
"Sometimes, I can barely catch my breath."



Released Palestinians Describe Worsening Abuses in Israeli Prisons

Palestinian boxer Muazzaz Abayat, 37, holds his 2-month-old son Mohammed and daughter Mira, 5, at home in the West Bank city of Bethlehem, Wednesday, July 17, 2024, days after his release from Israeli prison, frail, disoriented and with no initial memory of his family. (AP Photo/Maya Alleruzzo)
Palestinian boxer Muazzaz Abayat, 37, holds his 2-month-old son Mohammed and daughter Mira, 5, at home in the West Bank city of Bethlehem, Wednesday, July 17, 2024, days after his release from Israeli prison, frail, disoriented and with no initial memory of his family. (AP Photo/Maya Alleruzzo)
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Released Palestinians Describe Worsening Abuses in Israeli Prisons

Palestinian boxer Muazzaz Abayat, 37, holds his 2-month-old son Mohammed and daughter Mira, 5, at home in the West Bank city of Bethlehem, Wednesday, July 17, 2024, days after his release from Israeli prison, frail, disoriented and with no initial memory of his family. (AP Photo/Maya Alleruzzo)
Palestinian boxer Muazzaz Abayat, 37, holds his 2-month-old son Mohammed and daughter Mira, 5, at home in the West Bank city of Bethlehem, Wednesday, July 17, 2024, days after his release from Israeli prison, frail, disoriented and with no initial memory of his family. (AP Photo/Maya Alleruzzo)

Frequent beatings, overcrowding, withholding of basic rations. Released Palestinians have described to The Associated Press worsening abuses in Israeli prisons crammed with thousands detained since the war in Gaza began 10 months ago.

Israeli officials have acknowledged that they have made conditions harsher for Palestinians in prisons, with hard-line National Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir boasting that prisons will no longer be “summer camps” under his watch.

Four released Palestinians told the AP that treatment had dramatically worsened in prisons run by the ministry since the Oct. 7 attacks that triggered the latest war between Israel and Hamas in Gaza. Some emerged from months of captivity emaciated and emotionally scarred.

A fifth prisoner, Muazzaz Abayat, was too weakened to detail his experience soon after his release in July following six months at southern Israel’s Naqab prison. Frail-looking and unable to focus, he could only muster the strength to speak for several minutes, saying he was regularly beaten.

Now at home outside Bethlehem, the 37-year-old can hardly leave his armchair.

“At night, he hallucinates and stands in the middle of the house, in shock or remembering the torment and pain he went through,” said his cousin, Aya Abayat. Like many of the detained, he was put under administrative detention, a procedure that allows Israel to detain people indefinitely without charge.

The AP cannot independently verify the accounts of the prisoners. But they described similar conditions, even though they were held separately. While Abayat was only able to speak briefly, the other four spoke to the AP at length, and one requested anonymity for fear of being rearrested. Their accounts match reports from human rights groups that have documented alleged abuse in Israeli detention facilities.

Alarm among rights groups over abuses of Palestinian prisoners has mainly focused on military facilities, particularly Sde Teiman, a desert base where Israeli military police have arrested 10 soldiers on suspicion of sodomizing a Palestinian detainee. The detention facility at the base has held most of the Palestinians seized in raids in the Gaza Strip since the war began.

The soldiers, five of whom have since been released, deny the sodomy allegation. Their defense lawyer has said that they used force to defend themselves against a detainee who attacked them during a search, but did not sexually abuse him.

The Israeli army says 36 Palestinian prisoners have died in military-run detention centers since October. It said some of them had “previous illnesses or injuries caused to them as a result of the ongoing hostilities,” without elaborating further.

According to autopsy reports for five of the detainees, two bore signs of physical trauma such as broken ribs, while the death of a third “could have been avoided if there had been greater care for his medical needs.” The reports were provided to the AP by Physicians for Human Rights-Israel, an Israeli rights organization whose doctors observed the autopsies.

Facing calls to shut down the Sde Teiman facility, the military has been transferring hundreds of Palestinians from the base to the prisons run by Ben Gvir’s ministry.

But according to Abayat and the others who spoke to the AP, conditions in those facilities are traumatic as well.

Munthir Amira, a West Bank political activist who was held in Ofer Prison, said guards regularly beat detainees for punishment or often for no reason at all.

He said he and 12 others shared a cell with only six beds and a few thin blankets, freezing during the winter months. When prisoners had to go to the bathroom, they were handcuffed and bent over, and they were let outside for only 15 minutes twice a week, he said. Amira was held in administrative detention, apparently over his Facebook posts critical of Israel.

He said he lost 33 kilograms (72 pounds) during his three months in detention because of minimal food.

The treatment drove some to the edge: Amira recounted a day when he and his cellmates watched through their cell window as another inmate tried to kill himself by jumping off a high fence. He said they banged on their door to get help. Instead, he said, soldiers with two large dogs entered their cell, bound their hands, lined them up in the corridor and beat them, including on their genitals.

He said that when he was first arrested in December, guards ordered him to strip naked and spread his legs, then beat him into submission when he refused. During the ensuing examination, one guard prodded his genitalia with a metal detector, he said.

The National Security Ministry said in a statement to the AP that it was not aware of the claims of abuse from the five released men. It said it follows “all basic rights required” for prisoners, and that detainees can file complaints that will be “fully examined.”

But it said it has intentionally “reduced conditions” for Palestinian detainees “to the minimum required by law” since Oct. 7. The purpose, it said, “is to deter ... terror activities.”

Since the war began, the Palestinian prison population has nearly doubled to almost 10,000, including detainees from Gaza and several thousand people seized from the West Bank and east Jerusalem, according to HaMoked, an Israeli rights group that gathers figures from prison authorities.

Those detained include alleged militants seized in raids in the West Bank and Palestinians suspected in attacks on soldiers or settlers. But others also have apparently been detained for social media posts critical of Israel or past activism, according to a report from the United Nations human rights office.

All four former detainees who spoke at length said hunger was perhaps their greatest challenge.

Breakfast was 250 grams (9 ounces) of yogurt and a single tomato or pepper shared among five people, said Omar Assaf, a Ramallah-based retired Arabic language professor, also held at Ofer. He, too, said he was interrogated over his social media posts.

For lunch and dinner, he said, each person received two-thirds of a cup of rice and a bowl of soup shared with others.

“You didn’t see the color of fruit ... not a piece of meat,” he said.

Harsher conditions were imposed immediately after Oct. 7, according to Mohamed al-Salhi, who at the time was serving a 23-year sentence in a Jerusalem prison for forming an armed group.

Days after the attack, he said, guards stripped his cell of everything, including radios, televisions and clothing. Eventually, the number of inmates in the cell grew from a half-dozen to 14, and curtains in the communal showers were removed, leaving them to wash exposed, he said. Al-Salhi was released in June after completing his sentence.

A half-dozen Palestinian families gathered outside Ofer one day earlier this month to await their relatives’ release. As the gate slid open, several emaciated-looking men, with unkempt hair and rough beards, walked out before dropping to the ground to pray.

Mutasim Swalim embraced his father. He said he spent a year in prison over a Facebook post.

“The taste of freedom is very nice,” he said.

Others declined to speak.

“I just spent two months in prison,” one said as he staggered by. “I don’t want to go back.”