‘We Have Nothing.’ As Israel Attacks Rafah, Palestinians Are Living in Tents and Scrounging for Food 

Displaced Palestinians of Salman family ride in a vehicle loaded with their belongings as they prepare to flee Rafah following a nearby Israeli strike on an area designated for displaced, in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip, May 27, 2024. (Reuters)
Displaced Palestinians of Salman family ride in a vehicle loaded with their belongings as they prepare to flee Rafah following a nearby Israeli strike on an area designated for displaced, in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip, May 27, 2024. (Reuters)
TT

‘We Have Nothing.’ As Israel Attacks Rafah, Palestinians Are Living in Tents and Scrounging for Food 

Displaced Palestinians of Salman family ride in a vehicle loaded with their belongings as they prepare to flee Rafah following a nearby Israeli strike on an area designated for displaced, in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip, May 27, 2024. (Reuters)
Displaced Palestinians of Salman family ride in a vehicle loaded with their belongings as they prepare to flee Rafah following a nearby Israeli strike on an area designated for displaced, in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip, May 27, 2024. (Reuters)

The tent camps stretch for more than 16 kilometers (10 miles) along Gaza’s coast, filling the beach and sprawling into empty lots, fields and town streets. Families dig trenches to use as toilets. Fathers search for food and water, while children scrounge through garbage and wrecked buildings for scraps of wood or cardboard for their mothers to burn for cooking.

Over the past three weeks, Israel’s offensive in Rafah has sent nearly a million Palestinians fleeing the southern Gaza city and scattering across a wide area. Most have already been displaced multiple times during Israel’s nearly 8-month-old war in Gaza, which is aimed at destroying Hamas but has devastated the territory and caused what the UN says is a near-famine.

The situation has been worsened by a dramatic plunge in the amount of food, fuel and other supplies reaching the UN and other aid groups to distribute to the population. Palestinians have largely been on their own to resettle their families and find the basics of life.

“The situation is tragic. You have 20 people in the tent, with no clean water, no electricity. We have nothing,” said Mohammad Abu Radwan, a schoolteacher in a tent with his wife, six children, and other extended family.

“I can’t explain what it feels like living through constant displacement, losing your loved ones,” he said. “All of this destroys us mentally.”

Abu Radwan fled Rafah soon after the Israeli assault on the city began on May 6 as bombardment neared the house where he was sheltering. He and three other families paid $1,000 for donkey carts to take them to the outskirts of Khan Younis, about 6 kilometers (3.6 miles) away, where it took a day living outside before they could assemble the materials for a makeshift tent. Next to the tent, they dug a toilet trench, hanging blankets and old clothes around it for privacy.

Families usually have to buy the wood and tarps for their tents, which can run up to $500, not counting ropes, nails and the cost of transporting the material, the humanitarian group Mercy Corps said.

Israeli authorities controlling all entry points into Gaza have been letting greater numbers of private commercial trucks into the territory, the UN and aid worker say. More fruits and vegetables are found in markets now, and prices on some have fallen, Palestinians say.

Still, most of the homeless can’t afford them. Many in Gaza have not received salaries for months and their savings are depleting. Even those who have money in the bank often can’t withdraw it because there is so little physical cash in the territory. Many turn to black market exchanges that charge up to 20% to give cash for transfers from bank accounts.

Meanwhile, humanitarian convoys with supplies for the UN and other aid groups to distribute for free have fallen to nearly their lowest levels in the war, the UN says.

Previously, the UN was receiving several hundred trucks a day. That rate has dropped to an average of 53 trucks a day since May 6, according to the latest figures from the UN humanitarian office OCHA on Friday. Some 600 trucks a day are needed to stave off starvation, according to USAID.

In the past three weeks, most of the incoming aid has entered through two crossings from Israel in northern Gaza and via a US-built floating pier taking deliveries by sea. The two main crossings in the south, Rafah from Egypt and Kerem Shalom from Israel, are either not operating or are largely inaccessible for the UN because of fighting nearby.

Israel says it has been letting hundreds of trucks through Kerem Shalom, but the UN has only been able to collect about 170 of them on the Gaza side over the past three weeks because it can't reach the crossing.

Entry of fuel has fallen to about a third of what it was before the Rafah offensive, according to OCHA. That reduced amount has to be stretched between keeping hospitals, bakeries, water pumps and aid trucks working.

The American humanitarian group Anera “is having difficulty distributing what we are able to bring in to the people who need it because there’s so little fuel for trucks,” its spokesman Steve Fake said.

Most of those fleeing Rafah have poured into a humanitarian zone declared by Israel that is centered on Muwasi, a largely barren strip of coastal land. The zone was expanded north and west to reach the edges of Khan Younis and the central town of Deir al-Balah, both of which have also filled with people.

“As we can see, there is nothing ‘humanitarian’ about these areas,” said Suze van Meegen, head of operations in Gaza for the Norwegian Refugee Council, which has staff operating in Muwasi.

Much of the humanitarian zone has no charity kitchens or food market, no hospitals operating, only a few field hospitals and even smaller medical tents that can’t handle emergencies, only pass out painkillers and antibiotics if they have them, according to testimony from Mercy Corps. “It’s just a matter of time before people begin to suffer greatly from food insecurity,” the group said.

The Muwasi area is mostly coastal dunes with no water resources or sewage systems. With human waste deposited near the tents and garbage piling up, many people suffer from gastrointestinal diseases such as hepatitis, diarrhea, skin allergies, and lice, Mercy Corps said.

One aid worker who fled Rafah said he was lucky and could afford to rent a house in Deir al-Balah. “You can’t walk” in the town from all the tents that have arisen, he said, speaking on condition of anonymity because his agency had not authorized him to speak.

Many people he sees in the street are yellow with jaundice or hepatitis, and “the stench is disgusting” from the sewage and piles of garbage.

Israel says its offensive in Rafah is vital to its war aim of destroying Hamas in Gaza after the group’s Oct. 7 attack, in which militants killed some 1,200 people and abducted around 250 others from southern Israel. Israel’s campaign in Gaza triggered by the attack has killed some 36,000 people, according to Gaza’s Health Ministry.

Aid groups have warned for months that an attack on Rafah will worsen Gaza’s humanitarian disaster. So far, Israel’s operations have been short of its planned all-out invasion, though fighting has expanded over the past three weeks from the eastern parts of Rafah to central districts of the city. A strike Sunday hit a tent camp in a western part of Rafah, causing a large fire and killing at least 45 people, according to health officials. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu acknowledged a “tragic mistake” had occurred.

From the exodus the assault has caused, satellite photos taken last week show dense, new tent camps running the length of the coast from just north of Rafah to outside Deir al-Balah. The ramshackle tents and shelters are densely packed in mazes of corrugated metal and plastic sheets, blankets and bedsheets draped over wooden sticks for privacy.

Tamer Saeed Abu’l Kheir said he goes out at 6 a.m. every day to find water, usually returning around noon to the tent outside Khan Younis where he and nearly two dozen relatives live. His three children, aged 4 to 10, are always sick, but he said he has to send them out to collect wood for the cooking fire, though he worries they’ll come across unexploded bombs in the wrecked houses.

His aging father has trouble moving so has to use the bathroom in a bucket, and Abu’l Kheir has to regularly pay to transport him to the nearest hospital for kidney dialysis.

“Wood costs money, water costs money, everything costs money,” said his wife, Leena Abu’l Kheir. She broke down in sobs. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up one day and I’ve lost my children, my mother, my husband, my family.”



Jamal Mustafa to Asharq Al-Awsat: I Couldn’t Provide Bribe Demanded by Judge, So I Was Jailed for Another 10 Years

Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
TT

Jamal Mustafa to Asharq Al-Awsat: I Couldn’t Provide Bribe Demanded by Judge, So I Was Jailed for Another 10 Years

Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.

In the final installment of his interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, Jamal Mustafa Sultan, a former Iraqi official and Saddam Hussein’s son-in-law, delves into his arrest, the collapse of hopes for resistance against US forces, and the turmoil that followed the American invasion of Iraq in 2003.

Mustafa faced a harsh journey during the 2003 US invasion of Iraq. He traveled to rally tribal leaders to defend Baghdad, only to return and find the city occupied. Declared a fugitive, his face appeared on the US “most-wanted” playing cards.

Mustafa fled to Syria but was denied asylum and sent back to Iraq, where he was arrested. Accused of leading resistance and car bombings, the court found no evidence to convict him.

In 2011, a judge offered him release in exchange for a bribe, which Mustafa could not afford. His proposal to sell family land to pay was rejected, leaving him imprisoned for another decade. He was eventually freed over lack of evidence.

A US soldier watches the toppling of Saddam Hussein’s statue in Baghdad on April 7, 2003. (Reuters)

After his release, Mustafa went to Erbil, where Kurdish leader Masoud Barzani invited him for a meeting. Barzani welcomed him warmly and asked how he could help. Mustafa requested assistance in obtaining a passport, praising Barzani’s generosity.

Mustafa shared that Saddam respected Barzani, once calling him a “tough but honorable opponent.” He also revealed that, before the 2003 US invasion of Iraq, Barzani had assured Saddam that Kurdish forces would not fight the Iraqi army.

Recalling the lead-up to the war, Mustafa said Saddam tasked him with reconnecting with tribal leaders to encourage them to resist the invasion.

He delivered personal messages from Saddam, along with financial support, to help tribes host Iraqi soldiers stationed nearby. Mustafa later traveled to the Anbar province to rally tribes and bring them to defend Baghdad.

This account offers a rare glimpse into the behind-the-scenes efforts to resist the US invasion and the complex relationships that shaped Iraq’s history.

As the US invasion loomed, Mustafa met with thousands of tribal leaders to rally support for Baghdad’s defense.

“During the war, I met with over 4,500 tribal sheikhs from across Iraq,” he said. But when he returned to Baghdad after a trip to Anbar, everything had changed. “The city had fallen, and everything was in chaos.”

Mustafa tried to locate his associates but found no one. On April 11, 2003, he sent his driver to search for allies.

By chance, his brother, Lt. Gen. Kamal Mustafa, located him. “He told me we needed to leave Baghdad. I hadn’t planned to leave, but he convinced me it was the logical choice—we had no weapons, no men, and no resources. Staying would only mean capture.”

The brothers fled to Ramadi, where tribal leaders offered them refuge, and from there, they attempted to seek asylum in Syria. After just two days, Syrian authorities sent them back to Iraq.

Back in Baghdad, Mustafa and Khalid Najm, Iraq’s last intelligence chief, stayed with a university friend, Dr. Hafidh Al-Dulaimi. While there, Al-Dulaimi’s nephew suggested surrendering to Ahmed Chalabi’s forces, but Mustafa refused.

Saddam Hussein meets with top members of his regime. (Getty Images)

Shortly after, armed men stormed the house. “They came with tanks and masks,” Mustafa recalled. He and Najm were arrested on April 21, 2003—a day he will never forget.

Mustafa shared his experiences in US detention after his capture. “The interrogations were relentless, often involving psychological and physical pressure,” he added.

“They focused on weapons of mass destruction—’did Iraq have them, and where were they?’ Everyone faced the same questions. They also asked about US pilot Michael Scott Speicher, whose plane was shot down during the Gulf War. Though his remains were later found, the Americans kept questioning us, believing more was being hidden.”

Life in the detention center was highly controlled. Detainees were grouped in blocks of seven and given 30 minutes of outdoor time. Sultan recalled a chilling moment when Ahmed Hussein, Saddam’s office chief, told him during exercise: “The president has been captured.”

“We had clung to hope that Saddam’s freedom could lead to Iraq’s liberation,” Mustafa said. “His arrest shattered that hope and signaled the occupation’s permanence.”

He also described mysterious construction in the prison. “We saw carpenters working constantly. Eventually, they built a wooden barrier, blocking the corridor from view. We could only guess what it was for.”

When asked if Saddam had led the resistance before his capture, Mustafa confirmed: “Yes, the resistance began after the war. It wasn’t planned in advance because, at that time, the focus was purely military—army against army.”

“After the occupation, a new phase started. Battles unfolded in stages, and Saddam was leading the resistance during this one. He was the hope of the resistance, of the Iraqi people, and of Arabs and Muslims,” Mustafa revealed.

His remarks offer a glimpse into the post-invasion dynamics and the symbolic role Saddam played during Iraq’s turbulent transition.

Mustafa also recounted the difficulty of reaching his family after his arrest.

“After my capture, I lost all contact with my family. I didn’t have any phone numbers for my brothers, friends, or colleagues. Even if I had, phone lines had been disrupted—many exchanges had been bombed, and communication in Iraq was severely impacted,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Mustafa recalled an encounter with the International Red Cross during his detention.

Saddam Hussein and his daughter Hala. (Courtesy of the family)

“The Red Cross offered me the chance to write a message to my family, as is their usual practice. But I was at a loss—who could I write to? I had no idea where my brothers or family were. I didn’t know anything about their whereabouts.”

Then, Mustafa had an idea. “I thought of Ammo Baba, a well-known football coach in Iraq. I didn’t know his address, but I remembered the address of the Police Club, where I had been president. I decided to write the letter there, addressed to Ammo Baba, asking him to pass it on to my family.”

Mustafa’s story highlights the communication challenges and isolation faced by detainees during the Iraq War.

He then described the prolonged separation from his family following his arrest. “I had no hopes of hearing from my family when I sent my letter through Ammo Baba,” Mustafa said.

“The situation was too difficult. After two and a half to three months, I received a response from Ammo Baba. He sent his regards, inquired about my health, and included a message from Yassin, a coach who worked with me. Along with the letter, they sent me sportswear—a shirt and shorts.”

Mustafa’s communication with his family may have been limited, but the letter served as a lifeline.

“A couple of years later, I received the first message from my wife, Hala, after two years in detention.”

Jamal Mustafa Sultan with his children.

When asked if he had been separated from his family for 18 years, Mustafa confirmed: “Yes, I hadn’t seen them or my children for 18 and a half years.”

“There were no visits or conversations, except for a brief period when we were held by the Americans. During that time, they allowed us five minutes a week to speak with our families. I would split the time—two and a half minutes with my mother and siblings, and the rest with my wife and daughters,” he said.

However, he revealed that after 2010, communication was cut off entirely.

“When we were transferred to Iraqi custody, they stopped allowing any contact. I was careful not to make calls with the Iraqis, as I feared enemies or foreign agents could record them,” explained Mustafa.

Mustafa’s story underscores the isolation he endured and the limited means of contact with his loved ones during years of detention.