It’s been two months since I ate bread for the last time. Food on the markets has faded since Israel blocked almost all of Gaza help on March 2. After the blockade, food prices have skyrocketed. Sugar and flour have disappeared, fruits and vegetables have become a rare spectacle and only red lenses have remained available on the markets.
Unlike many other people who stored food during the truce of January, fearing another series of hard famine, my family and I made the risky decision not to store anything. We had already done so, but we have lost everything when Israeli soldiers reached our region with their tanks.
In such times, you don’t think about food. You forget your empty stomach and your weak body. You just count your loved ones, make sure that the number corresponds to what you have memorized and escape.
Although we have made this decision on our own free will, many had no choice – including the four families in the Shujaiyya district who now refer to our house. Family supports have lost their income because of the war: a taxi driver whose car was bombed, co -owner of a plastic manufacturing workshop that was destroyed, an electrician who rarely works since Israel cut electricity and a seller of snacks without selling.
All families have now hosted in our house, including mine, survive almost entirely on red lenses, just water, lenses and salt, without anything else added. We mainly drink it with a spoon. We rarely dip there to feel full, because the prices of the flour have continued to skyrocket in the last two months, ranging from 60 to 100 shekels per kilogram ($ 7.72 to $ 14.31 per book), which makes the simplest meals more difficult to come.
During the day, we introduced a new verb into the Arab lexicon, Ta’ddaset, which is about “I was lentized”, which means that one of the two missions of the day have been completed: eating lentil soup.
At the end of May, the news began to circulate widely on the initiative of Gaza Food (GHF) supported by the United States. Social media users have said that each family would receive part of the flour, sugar, cookies and canned food – enough for a week.
The reports indicate that the GHF distribution sites would only be open to three places in Rafah, along the Morag – the Israeli military corridor. Later, another point was to be opened along the Netzarim corridor, which divides Gaza into two halves. It was the first red flag: why should hungry people go to combat areas to receive food? And why were all the sites in the southern part of the band?
My suspicions concerning the GHF have deepened while investigations on the foundation began to emerge. Israel has denied that he is finishing the GHF. However, the sources of the United States government said that the initiative came from the same state that has repeatedly used food as a weapon: Israel.
But at least for a brief moment, the lack of food made me consider going to the GHF. For residents of the north of Gaza like me, waiting for the Netzarim corridor site to start working seemed the only realistic choice. However, heading for what had been a previous death zone for the Israeli army was terrifying.
In the meantime, Rafah’s distribution points have become operational. The scenes of the first day on May 27 were horrible. Several Palestinians have disappeared; Three were killed and dozens injured after Israeli soldiers opened fire on the crowd. Some have argued that a limited fire was necessary to maintain order, but the subsequent massacres, in which more than 300 have been killed, cannot be justified.
The Israeli army has always denied these massacres, calling them “exaggerated demands” and transferring the blame to Hamas with deceptive videos. But for the people of Gaza, it is easy to know the truth.
A survivor of the Tuesday massacre at the GHF distribution point in Rafah told me that shortly after the time of distribution designated, the Israeli soldiers were near the road to the site, “chasing people as if they were ducks”.
The aid researcher from the south of Gaza told me that he had seen gangs of Palestinian thieves inside the point, “working side by side with GHF workers” to create a stamp between pushing crowds and American staff.
When the Netzarim distribution point has finally become operational, we were faced with two dark choices: risk our life to go or support the worsening of lack of food. We considered the first. Being killed directly by fire was more merciful than dying slowly from famine.
At first, my family’s men were ready to go. But the testimonies of those who had already been there have changed their minds.
Mohammed Nasser, who went to the GHF Netzarim distribution point on June 14, day 59, people were killed near help sites, told me that most of the people present were thieves’ gangs, armed with pistols and knives, plundering the help of ordinary civilians. “If they saw an appointment with you, they would fly it.”
Nasser added that he had the impression that the Israeli soldiers placed bets on who could kill or hurt more people. He said GHF workers used tear gas and sound bombs to disperse the crowd only half an hour after the distribution process.
GHF workers and Israeli troops have enabled a chaos system inside the distribution points. There is no clear or consistent share for each person. Strong and armed people take what they want, stealing from other people at the sight of the staff.
GHF workers, described as “experienced crisis operators”, have disturbing history. Phil Reilly, CEO of Safe Reach Solutions (SRS), which helps the GHF, was the main vice-president of an American company which committed a massacre in Iraq in 2007.
The Foundation is also helped by another company, known as UG solutions. During the ceasefire in January, UG hired American mercenaries at daily prices from $ 1,100 to inspect vehicles at the Netzarim checkpoint.
Go to a GHF site to help enter a troubled operation, located in militarized areas, surrounded by armed soldiers, to find the site invaded by criminal gangs that can steal the little you may get.
The monotony of red lenses and the absence of other foods did not pushing us to seek help enveloped in the blood and humiliation.
The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Tel Aviv Tribune.