Besieged Gazans Share Shoes, Wear Same Clothes for Months

Palestinians wait for a cobbler to repair their shoes in the city of Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip on July 5, 2024, amid the ongoing conflict between Israel and the Palestinian Hamas group. (AFP)
Palestinians wait for a cobbler to repair their shoes in the city of Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip on July 5, 2024, amid the ongoing conflict between Israel and the Palestinian Hamas group. (AFP)
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Besieged Gazans Share Shoes, Wear Same Clothes for Months

Palestinians wait for a cobbler to repair their shoes in the city of Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip on July 5, 2024, amid the ongoing conflict between Israel and the Palestinian Hamas group. (AFP)
Palestinians wait for a cobbler to repair their shoes in the city of Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip on July 5, 2024, amid the ongoing conflict between Israel and the Palestinian Hamas group. (AFP)

For months, Safaa Yassin has dressed her child in the same white bodysuit, an all-too-familiar tale in the Gaza Strip, which has been devastated by 10 months of war.

"When I was pregnant, I dreamed of dressing my daughter in beautiful clothes. Today, I have nothing to put on her," says Yassin, one of thousands of Palestinians displaced from Gaza City.

"I never thought that one day I wouldn't be able to dress my children," says the 38-year-old, now living in Al-Mawasi, a coastal area designated as a humanitarian zone by Israeli forces.

"But the few clothes I found before evacuating to the south were either the wrong size or not suitable for the season," she adds, as Gaza bakes in summertime temperatures of 30-plus degrees Celsius (86 Fahrenheit) every day.

Finding clothing -- any clothing -- has become increasingly difficult for the 2.4 million people living in the territory besieged by Israel.

Gaza once had a thriving textiles industry but since the war began on October 7 with Palestinian group Hamas's unprecedented attack on Israel, it has received just a trickle of goods.

Faten Juda also struggles to dress her 15-month-old son, Adam, who is squeezed into ill-fitting pyjamas, his bare arms and legs sticking out from the tight fabric.

"He's growing every day and his clothes don't fit him anymore, but I can't find any others," the 30-year-old tells AFP.

- Same headscarf -

Children are not the only ones suffering from the lack of clothing in the Gaza Strip, which counted 900 textile factories in the industry's heyday in the early 1990s.

The sector employed 35,000 people and sent four million items to Israel every month. But those numbers have plummeted since 2007, when Hamas took power and Israel blockaded Gaza.

In recent years, Gaza's workshops had dwindled to about 100, employing about 4,000 people and shipping about 30,000-40,000 items a month to Israel and the Israeli-occupied West Bank.

By January, three months into the war, the World Bank estimated that 79 percent of Gaza's private sector establishments had been partially or totally destroyed.

Even the factories that are still standing have ground to a halt, after months without electricity in Gaza. Any fuel that arrives for generators is mainly used for hospitals and United Nations facilities such as warehouses and aid-supply points.

In these conditions, finding new clothes is a rare event.

"Some women have been wearing the same headscarf for the past 10 months," Philippe Lazzarini, head of UNRWA, the UN agency in charge of Palestinian refugees, posted on X.

Wearing the same clothes all the time is not just unpleasant, it is a health hazard. With limited water to wash them, disease-spreading lice abound.

Ahmed al-Masri, 29, left his home in the north of Gaza at the start of the war.

Today in Khan Younis, in the south, he says he does not have any spare shoes or clothes.

"My shoes are extremely damaged. I've had them repaired at least 30 times, each time paying 10 times more than before the war," he says, his gaunt face burnt by the sun.

- Walking barefoot -

With two-thirds of Gaza's population living in poverty even before the war, many people were forced to sell their clothes once the conflict broke out and tanked the economy further.

But "there are no more shoes or clothes to sell", says Omar Abu Hashem, 25, who was displaced from Rafah, on the Egyptian border, to Khan Yunis further north.

Abu Hashem left his home in such a rush that he was unable to take anything with him. He has been wearing the same pair of shoes for five months, but only every other day.

"I share my pair of shoes with my brother-in-law," he explains.

On the days when he goes barefoot, he fears the worst, tiptoeing around the waste and rubble that carry diseases and contamination of all kinds.

Ahmed al-Masri, meanwhile, just wants some soap to wash his only T-shirt and pair of trousers.

"I have been wearing the same clothes for nine months. I have nothing else. I quickly wash my T-shirt and then I wait for it to dry," he says.

"And all this, without soap or detergent."



As Gaza Death Toll Passes 40,000, Corpses Are Buried in Yards, Streets, Tiered Graves

Palestinians mourn their relatives killed in the Israeli bombardment of the Gaza Strip, outside a morgue in Rafah, southern Gaza, Wednesday, Jan. 10, 2024. (AP)
Palestinians mourn their relatives killed in the Israeli bombardment of the Gaza Strip, outside a morgue in Rafah, southern Gaza, Wednesday, Jan. 10, 2024. (AP)
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As Gaza Death Toll Passes 40,000, Corpses Are Buried in Yards, Streets, Tiered Graves

Palestinians mourn their relatives killed in the Israeli bombardment of the Gaza Strip, outside a morgue in Rafah, southern Gaza, Wednesday, Jan. 10, 2024. (AP)
Palestinians mourn their relatives killed in the Israeli bombardment of the Gaza Strip, outside a morgue in Rafah, southern Gaza, Wednesday, Jan. 10, 2024. (AP)

Tiers of graves are stacked deep underground in a bloated Gaza cemetery, where Sa’di Baraka spends his days hacking at the earth, making room for more dead.

“Sometimes we make graves on top of graves,” he said.

Baraka and his solemn corps of volunteer gravediggers in the Deir al-Balah cemetery start at sunrise, digging new trenches or reopening existing ones. The dead can sometimes come from kilometers (miles) away, stretches of Gaza where burial grounds are destroyed or unreachable.

The cemetery is 70 years old. A quarter of its graves are new.

The death toll in Gaza since the beginning of the 10-month-old Israel-Hamas war has passed 40,000, according to the territory’s Health Ministry. The small, densely populated strip of land is now packed with bodies.

They fill morgues and overflow cemeteries. Families, fleeing repeatedly to escape offensives, bury their dead wherever possible: in backyards and parking lots, beneath staircases and along roadsides, according to witness accounts and video footage. Others lie under rubble, their families unsure they will ever be counted.

“One large cemetery” A steady drumbeat of death since October has claimed nearly 2% of Gaza’s prewar population. The count by the Health Ministry in Hamas-run Gaza does not distinguish civilians from fighters. Health officials and civil defense workers say the true toll could be thousands more, including bodies under rubble that the United Nations says weighs 40 million tons.

“It seems,” Palestinian author Yousri Alghoul wrote for the Institute for Palestine Studies, “that Gaza’s fate is to become one large cemetery, with its streets, parks, and homes, where the living are merely dead awaiting their turn.”

Israel began striking Gaza after Hamas-led fighters stormed across the Israeli border on Oct. 7, killing about 1,200 people and taking some 250 others hostage. Israel seeks Hamas’ destruction and claims it confines its attacks to militants. It blames Hamas for civilian deaths, saying the fighters operate from residential neighborhoods laced with tunnels. The fighting has killed 329 Israeli soldiers.

Even in death, Palestinians have been displaced by Israel’s offensives.

Palestinians move corpses, shielding them from the path of war. Israel’s military has dug up, plowed over and bombed more than 20 cemeteries, according to satellite imagery analyzed by investigative outlet Bellingcat. Troops have taken scores of bodies into Israel, searching for hostages. Trucked back to Gaza, the bodies are often decomposed and unidentifiable, buried quickly in a mass grave.

Israel’s military told The Associated Press that it is attempting to rescue hostage bodies where intelligence indicates they may be located. It said bodies determined not to be hostages are returned “with dignity and respect.”

Haneen Salem, a photographer and writer from northern Gaza, has lost over 270 extended family members in bombardments and shelling. Salem said between 15 and 20 of them have been disinterred — some after troops destroyed cemeteries and others moved by relatives out of fear Israeli forces would destroy their graves.

“I don’t know how to explain what it feels like to see the bodies of my loved ones lying on the ground, scattered, a piece of flesh here and bone there,” she said. “After the war, if we remain alive, we will dig a new grave and spread roses and water over it for their good souls.”

Honoring the dead

In peacetime, Gaza funerals were large family affairs.

The corpse would be washed and wrapped in a shroud, according to Islamic tradition. After prayers over the body at a mosque, a procession would take it to the graveyard, where it would be laid on its right side facing east, toward the holy city of Makkah.

The rituals are the most basic way to honor the dead, said Hassan Fares. “This does not exist in Gaza.”

Twenty-five members of Fares' family were killed by an airstrike on Oct. 13 in northern Gaza. Without gravediggers available, Fares dug three ditches in a cemetery, burying four cousins, his aunt and his uncle. Survivors whispered quick prayers over the distant hum of warplanes.

Those who died early in the war might have been the lucky ones, Fares said. They had funerals, even if brief.

Nawaf al-Zuriei, a morgue worker at Deir al-Balah’s Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital, is on the front lines of the rush of dead. Workers cover the damaged bodies in plastic to avoid bloodstains on white shrouds.

“We wipe the blood off the face so it’s in a suitable state for his loved ones to bid him farewell,” he said.

Following Israeli troop withdrawals, dozens of bodies are left on streets. With fuel scarce, workers collecting the dead fill trucks with corpses, strapping some on top to save gas, said civil defense official Mohammed el-Mougher.

Headstones are rare; some graves are marked with chunks of rubble.

When a corpse remains unidentified, workers place a plastic placard at the grave, bearing the burial date, identification number and where the body was found.

Searching for lost loved ones

The uncertain fate of relatives' bodies haunts families.

Mousa Jomaa, an orthopedist who lives in al-Ram in the Israeli-occupied West Bank, has watched from afar as the war claimed 21 relatives in Gaza.

Jomaa’s cousin Mohammed was killed in an Israeli airstrike early in the war while operating an ambulance in southern Gaza and was buried in Rafah, away from the family’s home in central Gaza. The cemetery was damaged in a later offensive. There’s no sign of Mohammed’s body, Jomaa said.

A strike in December then destroyed Jomaa’s uncle’s house, killing his aunt and her children, 8-year-old Mira and 10-year-old Omar. Jomaa's uncle, Dr. Hani Jomaa, rushed home to search the rubble. Before he could find Mira's body, a strike killed him too.

Because her body has not been recovered, Mira has not been counted among the dead, said Jomaa, who showed a photo of the young girl standing beside her brother, with a rainbow handbag matching her barrette.

In July, an Israeli tank killed two more cousins, Mohammed and Baha. Baha’s body was torn apart, and the shelling made it too dangerous to collect the remains for weeks.

Jomaa said that come the end of the war, he plans to visit Gaza to search for Mira's remains.

Smashed graves and cemeteries off-limits

Israeli evacuation orders cover much of Gaza, leaving some of the largest cemeteries off-limits.

Jake Godin, a Bellingcat researcher, has used satellite imagery to document destruction to more than 20 cemeteries. Sandy, bulldozed expanses appear where some cemeteries once stood. Gaza City’s Sheikh Radwan graveyard is cratered. In Gaza's Eastern Cemetery, roads carved by heavy vehicles bury headstones under tire tracks, he said.

“Anywhere the (Israeli military) is active, they bulldoze and destroy the ground without regard to cemeteries,” Godin said.

The military told the AP it does not have a policy of destroying graves. “The unfortunate reality of ground warfare in condensed civilian areas” can result in harm to cemeteries, it said, adding it found Hamas tunnels underneath a cemetery east of the southern city of Khan Younis.

Mahmoud Alkrunz, a student in Türkiye, said his father, mother, two brothers, sister and three of his siblings’ children were buried in the Bureij refugee camp’s cemetery after Israel bombed their home.

When Israel withdrew from Bureij in January, the graves were found unearthed. Alkrunz fainted when his uncle delivered the news.

“We don’t know what has happened to the bodies,” he said.