In Risky Recycling Venture, Gazans Burn Plastic for Fuel

At a sorting facility near the distilling site, men comb through towering heaps of baskets, bowls, buckets and other plastic waste. AFP/Mohammed Abed
At a sorting facility near the distilling site, men comb through towering heaps of baskets, bowls, buckets and other plastic waste. AFP/Mohammed Abed
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In Risky Recycling Venture, Gazans Burn Plastic for Fuel

At a sorting facility near the distilling site, men comb through towering heaps of baskets, bowls, buckets and other plastic waste. AFP/Mohammed Abed
At a sorting facility near the distilling site, men comb through towering heaps of baskets, bowls, buckets and other plastic waste. AFP/Mohammed Abed

Living in one of the poorest parts of the Middle East and facing some of the region's highest fuel costs, Palestinians in Gaza are burning plastic to make affordable diesel.

It's an economic and practical solution in a territory blockaded by Israel for 15 years, but one which poses serious environmental and health risks, experts say.

Standing before rusty metal machinery and fuel containers, Mahmoud al-Kafarneh described how he and his brothers came up with their plastic recycling project, AFP said.

"We started experimenting to implement the project in 2018, through searching the internet," he told AFP, at the site in the Jabalia area of northern Gaza.

"We failed a few times; after eight months we succeeded in extracting the fuel."

The distilling setup features a series of crude-looking tanks and connecting pipes set up outside on the dirt.

The process starts with the burning of wood in a furnace below a large mud-covered tank holding up to 1.5 tons (tons) of shredded plastic. When the plastic melts, the vapors flow through a pipe into a water tank where they cool and drip as fuel into containers, ready to be sold.

Black-grey smoke pours from several pipes extending above the furnace and the tank holding the plastic.

Only a few of the workers wear face masks and gloves as they melt bagfuls of shredded plastic. Their clothing is stained black.

Kafarneh said no-one has experienced health problems since starting work at the site, which sits beside olive trees and away from residential buildings.

"We follow all safety procedures at work", he said.

But Ahmed Hillis, director of Gaza's National Institute for the Environment and Development, fears an environmental catastrophe from this unregulated industry.

"The method used is rudimentary and very harmful to the workers," mainly because they inhale toxic fumes, he told AFP.

Burning plastic releases dioxins, mercury and other toxic gases which pose "a threat to vegetation, human and animal health", according to the United Nations Environment Program.

Hillis adds another danger of burning plastic, which is derived from petroleum hydrocarbons.

The tank is "a time bomb because it could explode" from the heat, he says.

In Gaza, where exchanges of fire between Palestinian militants and Israel for three days earlier this month killed at least 49 Palestinians, health risks are outweighed by economic reality.

- 'Same quality' -
Kafarneh, 25, said he would ideally upgrade their kit to a safer tank operated by electricity.

"But it's unavailable due to the Israeli blockade," he said.

Since 2007, when the Islamist movement Hamas seized control of the Gaza Strip, Israel has severely restricted the flow of people and goods in and out of the coastal enclave where 2.3 million people live.

The territory is increasingly impoverished.

Unemployment has hit 47 percent and the average daily wage is around 60 shekels ($18), according to the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics.

Petrol delivered from Israel shot up to eight shekels ($2.40) a liter in Gaza, after Russia's invasion of Ukraine sent global fuel prices spiking, before a pullback.

That sent demand soaring for Kafarneh's fuel, with fishermen and farmers among the top customers.

At the portside in Gaza City, Abd al-Muti al-Habil is using a hose to fill the tank of his fishing boat.

"We use this diesel because it's half the cost of the Israeli equivalent," he said.

"There are no disadvantages. It's the same quality, it doesn't affect the motor and it's working efficiently."

The only problem for Habil is the shortage of supply, with around 10 boats currently using diesel made from recycled plastic.

"Unfortunately the quantities are not enough. I barely get 500 liters (132 gallons) every two days," he said.

Habil's boat burns through 900 liters (237 gallons) of fuel during 12 hours at sea, quantities which are unaffordable if he relies solely on imported fuel.

One tankful of plastic can produce 1,000 liters (264 gallons) of fuel every 12-14 hours, but Kafarneh's team must wait eight hours for the equipment to cool before they can restart the process.

The amount produced also depends on the availability of raw materials.

At a sorting facility near the distilling site, six men are combing through a towering heap of baskets, bowls, buckets and other plastic waste.

"We get the plastic from workers who collect it from the street. We buy it from them, then we separate it and grind it through a special machine," said Imad Hamed, whose hands are stained black from the work.

With the grinder relying on electricity, Hamed said they are frequently interrupted by Gaza's chronic power cuts.

"We have to work at night sometimes, to coincide with the availability of electricity," he said.



As Flooding Becomes a Yearly Disaster in South Sudan, Thousands Survive on the Edge of a Canal

Children ride in a small canoe around the area where they live in Jonglei state, South Sudan. (Photo: AP)
Children ride in a small canoe around the area where they live in Jonglei state, South Sudan. (Photo: AP)
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As Flooding Becomes a Yearly Disaster in South Sudan, Thousands Survive on the Edge of a Canal

Children ride in a small canoe around the area where they live in Jonglei state, South Sudan. (Photo: AP)
Children ride in a small canoe around the area where they live in Jonglei state, South Sudan. (Photo: AP)

Long-horned cattle wade through flooded lands and climb a slope along a canal that has become a refuge for displaced families in South Sudan. Smoke from burning dung rises near homes of mud and grass where thousands of people now live after floods swept away their village.
“Too much suffering,” said Bichiok Hoth Chuiny, a woman in her 70s. She supported herself with a stick as she walked in the newly established community of Pajiek in Jonglei state north of the capital, Juba, The Associated Press said.
For the first time in decades, the flooding had forced her to flee. Her efforts to protect her home by building dykes failed. Her former village of Gorwai is now a swamp.
“I had to be dragged in a canoe up to here,” Chuiny said. An AP journalist was the first to visit the community.
Such flooding is becoming a yearly disaster in South Sudan, which the World Bank has described as “the world’s most vulnerable country to climate change and also the one most lacking in coping capacity."
More than 379,000 people have been displaced by flooding this year, according to the UN humanitarian agency.
Seasonal flooding has long been part of the lifestyle of pastoral communities around the Sudd, the largest wetlands in Africa, in the Nile River floodplain. But since the 1960s the swamp has kept growing, submerging villages, ruining farmland and killing livestock.
“The Dinka, Nuer and Murle communities of Jonglei are losing the ability to keep cattle and do farming in that region the way they used to,” said Daniel Akech Thiong, a senior analyst with the International Crisis Group.
South Sudan is poorly equipped to adjust. Independent since 2011, the country plunged into civil war in 2013. Despite a peace deal in 2018, the government has failed to address numerous crises. Some 2.4 million people remain internally displaced by conflict and flooding.
The latest overflowing of the Nile has been blamed on factors including the opening of dams upstream in Uganda after Lake Victoria rose to its highest levels in five years.
The century-old Jonglei Canal, which was never completed, has become a refuge for many.
“We don’t know up to where this flooding would have pushed us if the canal was not there,” said Peter Kuach Gatchang, the paramount chief of Pajiek. He was already raising a small garden of pumpkins and eggplants in his new home.
The 340-kilometer (211-mile) Jonglei Canal was first imagined in the early 1900s by Anglo-Egyptian colonial authorities to increase the Nile’s outflow towards Egypt in the north. But its development was interrupted by the long fight of southern Sudanese against the Sudanese regime in Khartoum that eventually led to the creation of a separate country.
Gatchang said the new community in Pajiek is neglected: "We have no school and no clinic here, and if you stay for a few days, you will see us carrying our patients on stretchers up to Ayod town.”
Ayod, the county headquarters, is reached by a six-hour walk through the waist-high water.
Pajiek also has no mobile network and no government presence. The area is under the control of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement-in-Opposition, founded by President Salva Kiir’s rival turned Vice President Riek Machar.
Villagers rely on aid. On a recent day, hundreds of women lined up in a nearby field to receive some from the World Food Program.
Nyabuot Reat Kuor walked home with a 50-kilogram (110-pound) bag of sorghum balanced on her head.
“This flooding has destroyed our farm, killed our livestock and displaced us for good," the mother of eight said. “Our old village of Gorwai has become a river.”
When food assistance runs out, she said, they will survive on wild leaves and water lilies from the swamp. Already in recent years, food aid rations have been cut in half as international funding for such crises drops.
More than 69,000 people who have migrated to the Jonglei Canal in Ayod county are registered for food assistance, according to WFP.
“There are no passable roads at this time of the year, and the canal is too low to support boats carrying a lot of food,” said John Kimemia, a WFP airdrop coordinator.
In the neighboring Paguong village that is surrounded by flooded lands, the health center has few supplies. Medics haven’t been paid since June due to an economic crisis that has seen civil servants nationwide go unpaid for more than a year.
South Sudan’s economic woes have deepened with the disruption of oil exports after a major pipeline was damaged in Sudan during that country's ongoing civil war.
“The last time we got drugs was in September. We mobilized the women to carry them on foot from Ayod town,” said Juong Dok Tut, a clinical officer.
Patients, mostly women and children, sat on the ground as they waited to see the doctor. Panic rippled through the group when a thin green snake passed among them. It wasn't poisonous, but many others in the area are. People who venture into the water to fish or collect water lilies are at risk.
Four life-threatening snake bites cases occurred in October, Tut said. “We managed these cases with the antivenom treatments we had, but now they’re over, so we don’t know what to do if it happens again.”