Residents Return to a Charred and Changed Bucha in Ukraine

Ukrainian soldiers inspect a destroyed house, amid Russia's invasion of Ukraine, in Bucha, in Kyiv region, Ukraine, April 6, 2022. (Reuters)
Ukrainian soldiers inspect a destroyed house, amid Russia's invasion of Ukraine, in Bucha, in Kyiv region, Ukraine, April 6, 2022. (Reuters)
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Residents Return to a Charred and Changed Bucha in Ukraine

Ukrainian soldiers inspect a destroyed house, amid Russia's invasion of Ukraine, in Bucha, in Kyiv region, Ukraine, April 6, 2022. (Reuters)
Ukrainian soldiers inspect a destroyed house, amid Russia's invasion of Ukraine, in Bucha, in Kyiv region, Ukraine, April 6, 2022. (Reuters)

Before the war in Ukraine, Bohdan Zubchuk's job as a community police officer involved patrolling the quiet streets of Bucha outside Kyiv and dealing with petty crime, while handling minor complaints from residents.

Walking down a street where the bodies of multiple victims were found after Russian troops retreated late last month, the 29-year-old said his hometown and his job would never be the same.

"We will never forget everything we saw here, this will stay with us for our whole lives," he said.

The town became known around the world after images emerged of dead civilians in the streets last week, triggering an international outcry.

Since the Russians left, Zubchuk said he and his fellow community police officers have been tasked with assisting traumatized survivors with everything from receiving humanitarian aid to checking for unexploded ordnance around town.

Ukrainian officials say hundreds of civilians have been found dead since the Russians' withdrawal. The deputy mayor of Bucha has said 360 civilians were killed during the Russian occupation. Reuters could not independently verify those figures.

Russia, which has repeatedly denied targeting civilians since the Feb. 24 invasion of Ukraine, has called the allegations that Russian forces executed civilians in Bucha while they occupied the town a "monstrous forgery" aimed at denigrating the Russian army.

Reuters has witnessed the remains of five victims in Bucha who were shot through the head. One had his hands tied behind his back. Another his feet tied. Reuters has not been able to independently determine who was responsible.

By Saturday, local workers and residents had already removed the bodies from the street, but there were still patches of ash and charred cement left behind from shelling.

"Every time I patrol this street I'll be thinking back about what happened here," Zubchuk said.

On Friday, forensic investigators began the exhumation of remains from a mass grave in Bucha, carefully lifting bodies out of a muddy trench to examine and identify them.

In the weeks following the arrival of Russian forces in Bucha, Zubchuk said he and his fellow officers hid in basements and continued working until they fled the city with their families.

Zubchuk said Russian soldiers were scouring the town for local police officers and men with military experience during the occupation.

An 'island' of calm

Elsewhere in Bucha on Saturday, volunteers in bright vests swept up debris and workers in hard hats removed what remained of destroyed Russian tanks with heavy cranes.

Moscow calls the war a "special operation" to demilitarize and "denazify" its neighbor. Ukraine and its allies say this is a baseless pretext for war.

Valerie Lysenko was one of many residents who returned to Bucha to see the damage first hand. Lysenko said she fled her hometown a little over a week after Russian troops rolled into Bucha.

Before the war Lysenko said she was always inviting her friends to visit Bucha, telling them it was an "island" of calm outside of Kyiv with beautiful parks and great infrastructure.

Now, the name of her town had become synonymous with war and the suffering of civilians.

"The only thing they know (of Bucha) is people dead, people with their hands tied, people tortured, murdered and this just breaks my heart," she said.

"If I say I'm in pain it's only one percent of what I'm feeling," she said.



To Get Their Own Cash, People in Gaza Must Pay Middlemen a 40% Cut

A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
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To Get Their Own Cash, People in Gaza Must Pay Middlemen a 40% Cut

A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)

Cash is the lifeblood of the Gaza Strip’s shattered economy, and like all other necessities in this war-torn territory — food, fuel, medicine — it is in extremely short supply.

With nearly every bank branch and ATM inoperable, people have become reliant on an unrestrained network of powerful cash brokers to get money for daily expenses and commissions on those transactions have soared to about 40%.

"The people are crying blood because of this," said Ayman al-Dahdouh, a school director living in Gaza City. "It’s suffocating us, starving us."

At a time of surging inflation, high unemployment and dwindling savings, the scarcity of cash has magnified the financial squeeze on families — some of whom have begun to sell their possessions to buy essential goods.

The cash that is available has even lost some of its luster. Palestinians use the Israeli currency, the shekel, for most transactions. Yet with Israel no longer resupplying the territory with newly printed bank notes, merchants are increasingly reluctant to accept frayed bills.

Gaza’s punishing cash crunch has several root causes, experts say.

To curtail Hamas’ ability to purchase weapons and pay its fighters, Israel stopped allowing cash to enter Gaza at the start of the war. Around the same time, many wealthy families in Gaza withdrew their money from banks and then fled the territory. And rising fears about Gaza’s financial system prompted foreign businesses selling goods into the territory to demand cash payments.

As Gaza’s money supply dwindled and civilians’ desperation mounted, cash brokers' commissions — around 5% at the start of the war — skyrocketed.

Someone needing cash transfers money electronically to a broker and moments later is handed a fraction of that amount in bills. Many brokers openly advertise their services, while others are more secretive. Some grocers and retailers have also begun exchanging cash for their customers.

"If I need $60, I need to transfer $100," said Mohammed Basheer al-Farra, who lives in southern Gaza after being displaced from Khan Younis. "This is the only way we can buy essentials, like flour and sugar. We lose nearly half of our money just to be able to spend it."

In 2024, inflation in Gaza surged by 230%, according to the World Bank. It dropped slightly during the ceasefire that began in January, only to shoot up again after Israel backed out of the truce in March.

Cash touches every aspect of life in Gaza

About 80% of people in Gaza were unemployed at the end of 2024, according to the World Bank, and the figure is likely higher now. Those with jobs are mostly paid by direct deposits into their bank accounts.

But "when you want to buy vegetables, food, water, medication -- if you want to take transportation, or you need a blanket, or anything — you must use cash," al-Dahdouh said.

Shahid Ajjour’s family has been living off of savings for two years after the pharmacy and another business they owned were ruined by the war.

"We had to sell everything just to get cash," said Ajjour, who sold her gold to buy flour and canned beans. The family of eight spends the equivalent of $12 every two days on flour; before the war, that cost less than $4.

Sugar is very expensive, costing the equivalent of $80-$100 per kilogram (2.2 pounds), multiple people said; before the war, that cost less than $2.

Gasoline is about $25 a liter, or roughly $95 a gallon, when paying the lower, cash price.

Bills are worn and unusable

The bills in Gaza are tattered after 21 months of war.

Money is so fragile, it feels as if it is going to melt in your hands, said Mohammed al-Awini, who lives in a tent camp in southern Gaza.

Small business owners said they were under pressure to ask customers for undamaged cash because their suppliers demand pristine bills from them.

Thaeir Suhwayl, a flour merchant in Deir al-Balah, said his suppliers recently demanded he pay them only with brand new 200-shekel ($60) bank notes, which he said are rare. Most civilians pay him with 20-shekel ($6) notes that are often in poor condition.

On a recent visit to the market, Ajjour transferred the shekel equivalent of around $100 to a cash broker and received around $50 in return. But when she tried to buy some household supplies from a merchant, she was turned away because the bills weren’t in good condition.

"So the worth of your $50 is zero in the end," she said.

This problem has given rise to a new business in Gaza: money repair. It costs between 3 and 10 shekels ($1-$3) to mend old bank notes. But even cash repaired with tape or other means is sometimes rejected.

People are at the mercy of cash brokers

After most of the banks closed in the early days of the war, those with large reserves of cash suddenly had immense power.

"People are at their mercy," said Mahmoud Aqel, who has been displaced from his home in southern Gaza. "No one can stop them."

The war makes it impossible to regulate market prices and exchange rates, said Dalia Alazzeh, an expert in finance and accounting at the University of the West of Scotland. "Nobody can physically monitor what’s happening," Alazzeh said.

A year ago, the Palestine Monetary Authority, the equivalent of a central bank for Gaza and the West Bank, sought to ease the crisis by introducing a digital payment system known as Iburaq. It attracted half a million users, or a quarter of the population, according to the World Bank, but was ultimately undermined by merchants insisting on cash.

Israel sought to ramp up financial pressure on Hamas earlier this year by tightening the distribution of humanitarian aid, which it said was routinely siphoned off by militants and then resold.

Experts said it is unclear if the cash brokers’ activities benefit Hamas, as some Israeli analysts claim.

The war has made it more difficult to determine who is behind all sorts of economic activity in the territory, said Omar Shabaan, director of Palthink for Strategic Studies, a Gaza-based think tank.

"It's a dark place now. You don't know who is bringing cigarettes into Gaza," he said, giving just one example. "It's like a mafia."

These same deep-pocketed traders are likely the ones running cash brokerages, and selling basic foodstuffs, he said. "They benefit by imposing these commissions," he said.

Once families run out of cash, they are forced to turn to humanitarian aid.

Al-Farra said that is what prompted him to begin seeking food at an aid distribution center, where it is common for Palestinians to jostle over one other for sacks of flour and boxes of pasta.

"This is the only way I can feed my family," he said.