Gaza Engineer Harnesses Sunlight to Make Saltwater Drinkable

 Palestinian children play next to garbage and sewage at a camp for displaced Palestinians in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip on August 19, 2024, amid the continuing conflict between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)
Palestinian children play next to garbage and sewage at a camp for displaced Palestinians in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip on August 19, 2024, amid the continuing conflict between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)
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Gaza Engineer Harnesses Sunlight to Make Saltwater Drinkable

 Palestinian children play next to garbage and sewage at a camp for displaced Palestinians in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip on August 19, 2024, amid the continuing conflict between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)
Palestinian children play next to garbage and sewage at a camp for displaced Palestinians in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip on August 19, 2024, amid the continuing conflict between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)

In war-ravaged Gaza, every drop of water counts, making Inas al-Ghul's makeshift sun-powered water filter a vital asset for parched Palestinians surviving endless bombardment under the territory's scorching heat.

Using wood from the few pallets of aid that make it into Gaza, and window panes salvaged from buildings that have largely been abandoned in 10 months of war, the 50-year-old agricultural engineer built a glass-covered trough.

She lets saltwater evaporate from the trough, heated by the greenhouse effect created by the glass panes, allowing the water to distil and leaving behind the salt.

From there, a long black hose carries the evaporated water to other containers filled with activated charcoal to further filter out impurities.

"It is a very simple device, it's very simple to use and to build," Ghul told AFP after taking a long gulp from a glass of filtered water in her house in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip.

- Abundant energy -

Ghul's device "doesn't require electricity, filters, or solar panels, it operates solely on solar energy", which Gaza has in abundance, with 14 hours of sunshine per day in the summer, and eight hours in the winter.

This has proven particularly useful at a time when Gaza's only power plant is down and electricity supplies from Israel have been cut for months.

With fuel also in short supply, Gaza's desalination plants that haven't been damaged in the fighting have been working at a drastically reduced capacity.

Mohammad Abu Daoud, a displaced Gazan sweating in the midday sun, said Ghul's invention "comes exactly at the right time".

"For about two months, we have relied on it entirely," he told AFPTV.

This brings crucial help to those who benefit from it, as the available water for Gazans currently averages 4.74 liters per day, "under a third of the recommended minimum in emergencies", Oxfam reported in July.

This represents "less than a single toilet flush", the aid group warned in a report, which estimates that available water per person per day in the Gaza Strip plummeted by 94 percent since the beginning of the war.

Water was already scarce before the conflict erupted, and most of it was undrinkable. The 2.4 million population relies primarily on an increasingly polluted and depleted aquifer, humanitarian agencies say.

- 'Water as a weapon of war' -

The war broke out with Hamas's October 7 attack on Israel, which resulted in the deaths of 1,199 people, mostly civilians, according to an AFP tally of Israeli official figures.

Israel's retaliatory offensive in Gaza has killed at least 40,173 people, according to the territory's health ministry, which does not provide a breakdown of civilian and militant deaths.

In the school-turned-shelter where Abu Daoud lives, close to Ghul's house, other displaced families have come to rely on the water filtration system to fill up their bottles.

The 250-liter tank that stores the clean water quickly empties.

Oxfam accuses Israel of using "water as a weapon of war", and has warned of "a deadly health catastrophe" for Gazans, almost all of whom have been displaced at least once.

The aid group calculated that "Israeli military attacks have damaged or destroyed five water and sanitation infrastructure sites every three days since the start of the war".

The lack of clean water has had drastic effects on the population, with "26 percent of Gaza's population falling severely ill from easily preventable diseases", it said.

Conscious of the pressing need for her device and of the ubiquitous danger of air strikes, Ghul regularly climbs up to her terrace to watch over her creation, and to open or close her precious taps.



Graves on Top of Graves… Undertakers in Gaza Are Exhausted

Palestinian gravedigger Saadi Hassan Barakeh say he has been burying the dead for 28 years, but has never been so busy amid the Gaza war. MAHMUD HAMS / AFP
Palestinian gravedigger Saadi Hassan Barakeh say he has been burying the dead for 28 years, but has never been so busy amid the Gaza war. MAHMUD HAMS / AFP
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Graves on Top of Graves… Undertakers in Gaza Are Exhausted

Palestinian gravedigger Saadi Hassan Barakeh say he has been burying the dead for 28 years, but has never been so busy amid the Gaza war. MAHMUD HAMS / AFP
Palestinian gravedigger Saadi Hassan Barakeh say he has been burying the dead for 28 years, but has never been so busy amid the Gaza war. MAHMUD HAMS / AFP

More than 10 months into the Gaza war, so many bodies are arriving at Al-Soueid cemetery in Gaza’s Deir el-Balah that gravediggers are forced to build graves on top of other graves.

Undertakers are working like bricklayers in the cemetery, piling cinder blocks into tight rectangles, side by side, for freshly dug graves.

Leading his team of gravediggers, Saadi Hassan Barakeh, 63, now handles Al-Soueid cemetery, with its 5.5 hectares of graves. Previously, he also oversaw burials at the nearby Ansar cemetery, which covers 3.5 hectares. But now “the Ansar cemetery is completely full,” he told AFP.

The two cemeteries are located in the city of Deir el-Balah in the center of the Gaza Strip that has been bombarded by Israel for more than ten months after Hamas launched the unprecedented October 7 attack in Israel.

“Before the war, we had one or two funerals per week, maximum five,” Barakeh says, wearing a white prayer cap that matches his long beard.

“Now, there are weeks when I bury 200 to 300 people. It's unbelievable.”

Yet even with one cemetery instead of two, Barakeh said he works “every day, from six in the morning to six in the evening.”

Piles of Martyrs

Barakeh, leading his team of gravediggers, says “The cemetery is so full that we now dig graves on top of other graves, we've piled the dead in levels.”

Barakeh has been burying the dead for 28 years. In “all the wars in Gaza,” he says he has “never seen crimes like this.”

Barakeh bears daily witness to the tragedies. Hoe in hand, he gives encouragement to his 12 workers as they prepare and close dozens of graves every day.

At night, however, some images are hard to forget.

“I can't sleep after seeing so many mangled children's bodies and dead women,” he told AFP, adding: “I buried 47 women from the Tabatibi family, including 16 who were pregnant. What crime have these women committed?”

The October 7 Hamas attack which triggered the war resulted in the deaths of 1,198 people, mostly civilians, according to an AFP tally of Israeli official figures.

Israel’s retaliatory military offensive has killed at least 40,005 people in Gaza, according to the Hamas-run health ministry.

“I buried a lot of women and children, and only two or three guys from Hamas,” says Barakeh.

‘Why the children?’

If Israelis “have a problem with (Yahya) Sinwar and with (Ismail) Haniyeh, why do they harm children?” he adds angrily.

Barakeh is convinced that the Israelis want to eliminate the entire Palestinian people.

Graves with white headstones fill nearly all the available space, while men dig new holes in the few vacant areas.

The team forms a human chain to carry the cinder blocks, whose price has soared since Gaza’s factories closed due to a lack of fuel and raw materials.

“One shekel ($0.27) before the war, 10 or 12 today,” he lamented.

Besides gravediggers and the workers carrying cinder blocks, hardly anyone comes to funerals anymore, Barakeh says.

“Before the war, there were sometimes 1,000 people at one funeral; today there are days when we bury 100 people and there aren’t even 20 to lay them to rest.”

High above his head, the constant hum of an Israeli surveillance drone serves as a reminder of the aerial threat creating a steady stream of bodies.