Israel destroying Gaza’s fishing sector

29 January 2017, updated 19 June 2018

Fishermen at Gaza's fishing port. Photo by Suhaib Salem, Reuters, 4 April 2016

In 2000, Gaza had about 10,000 fishermen. Today, the Gaza Fishermen’s Association has only some 4,000 fishermen registered, who are the breadwinners for approximately 50,000 persons. This figure, however, is misleading as half the registered fishermen are actually out of work, since their boats are out of commission and cannot be repaired due to the shortage in necessary raw materials. Ninety-five percent of Gaza’s fishermen live under the poverty line, defined as a monthly income of less than 2,293 ILS (roughly 600 USD) for a family of five. These families rely on humanitarian aid, and belong to the 80% of Gaza’s overall population who rely on humanitarian aid.

The decline of Gaza’s fishing sector is a direct result of Israel’s policy, which includes severe restrictions on marine access, fishing exports, and the entry of raw materials into Gaza, as well as harassment of fishermen:

a. Limited fishing zone:

In March 2016, Israel expanded the range in which it permits Gazans to fish from six to nine nautical miles off the Gaza coast. In June, it reduced the range back to six nautical miles (some 11 km). These restrictions are in place despite Israel’s obligation under the Oslo Accords to permit fishing up to 20 nautical miles off the Gaza coastline. Israel has never lived up to this obligation, and the widest range it has ever permitted since the Accords were signed was 12 nautical miles. Over the years, the range was repeatedly reduced; at times, it was as little as three nautical miles. During periods of fighting between Israel and Gaza, fishing is prohibited altogether. Notices of changes in the permitted fishing zone are provided to the Fishermen’s Association by the Israeli DCO. The Israeli navy also marks the boundaries with buoys. The shrinking fishing zone has led to overfishing in a small area, resulting in a decreased fish population and depletion of fish breeding grounds.

b. Shortage of raw materials, equipment, and spare parts for repairing fishing boats:

Israel prohibits entry into Gaza of materials that are essential for maintenance and repair of fishing boats, including fiberglass, steel cables, engines and spare parts. Israel claims that these items fall under its definition of “dual-use materials”, i.e. materials “that are primarily designed for civilian use, but are suitable also for military use”. Over the course of 2016, delegates from the Palestinian Ministry of Agriculture and the Palestinian DCO met several times with the Gaza DCO Commander, most recently on 10 June 2016. In these meetings, the Palestinian delegates provided the Israeli side with a list of items needed for the fishing sector. Not a single item on the list has been cleared for entry to date. According to the Department of Fisheries in Gaza’s Ministry of Agriculture, some 200 rowboats and five small motor boats are currently out of commission as the materials and equipment needed to repair them are unavailable.

Motorized hasake rowboat in Gaza's fishing port. Photo by Muhammad Sabah, B'Tselem, 11 Jan. 2017

c. Shootings and arrests:

Over the course of 2016, B’Tselem received dozens of reports from fishermen that their boats had been struck by Israeli naval fire. Some of the fishermen were injured and others arrested. According to the testimonies, soldiers forced them, at gunpoint, to take their clothes off and swim over to the navy vessels, regardless of the weather. The fishermen’s testimonies, as well as GPS records on their devices, indicate that some were arrested although they hadn’t sailed beyond the military-permitted fishing zone.

Fishermen brought on board navy vessels were taken to Ashdod port in Israel, where they were interrogated while blindfolded and handcuffed. Their boats were confiscated. Following the interrogation, which often focused on attempting to gather intelligence on Hamas operatives, most fishermen were sent home without their boats. The Gaza Fishermen’s Association has reported that since April 2016, Hamas has arrested and interrogated Gaza fishermen who were returned by the military to Erez Crossing, holding them for several days.

According to the Department of Fisheries in Gaza’s Ministry of Agriculture, the Israeli military arrested 113 fishermen over the course of 2016. Of these, 107 were released after interrogation and six are still in custody. Ten other fishermen were injured by Israeli navy fire. The Department of Fisheries has also reported that in 2016, the military confiscated 28 motorized hasake rowboats and six non-motorized ones. Only ten have thus far been returned to their owners, all in April. Also in April, five hasakes confiscated a year earlier were returned to their owners.* In 2015, 73 fishermen were arrested and 22 hasake rowboats confiscated. At present, 14 boats are out of commission due to damage caused by the Israeli navy, either by shooting or during confiscation of the vessel. Department of Fisheries data also indicates that the direct losses suffered by Gaza fishermen in 2016 as a result of Israeli navy fire or confiscation of boats and equipment amounts to some half a million US dollars.

d. Restrictions on exporting catch to Israel and selling it in the West Bank:

Prior to the blockade imposed on Gaza in 2007, fishing was a thriving sector. Fishermen sold their catch in the West Bank and exported it to Israel, making a decent living. As part of the blockade, Israel has banned the sale of fish from Gaza in the West Bank or its export to Israel, devastating the fishermen’s livelihoods. In 2014, Israel began allowing restricted sales in the West Bank once again, but under fastidious limitations that raise the cost of the process, and therefore the price of the goods. Current sales of fish caught in Gaza to the West Bank are much lower than they were prior to the blockade.

Israel’s practices with respect to Gaza’s fishing sector illustrate why it is impossible to accept its contention that it ended its responsibility for the fate of Gaza’s residents and for what takes place there upon completing implementation of its disengagement plan in 2005. Though Israel removed its regular military presence and settlements from Gaza, it continues to control many aspects of daily life there from a distance. The terrible harm it inflicts on fishermen has no justification, and is yet another facet of the cruel blockade policy that Israel has been implementing in Gaza for a decade.

Fishermen who gave their testimonies to B’Tselem field researcher Muhammad Sabah described the harsh circumstances forced on them:

Mahmoud Sa’id Jum’ah Baker, 18, from a-Shati Refugee Camp, related on 5 Sept. 2016:

I work at fishing with my father and brothers, on a motorized hasake rowboat. We go out to sea almost every day – off the shore of Gaza City and northward. We usually leave home at 5:00 A.M. and work until noon, depending on the situation and on how many fish there are. We sell the fish to merchants. Sometimes we catch twenty kilos of fish, sometimes ten or five, and sometimes not even a single fish. It depends on their availability, on the weather, and on what the Israeli navy does.

On Friday, 12 August 2016, we went out to sea at 5:00 A.M. I went out with my father, my four brothers, and a hired worker we have. We sailed to the area of a-Sudaniyeh, about 2.5 nautical miles northwest of the permitted fishing zone. By 8:00 A.M. we had caught about three kilos of farida (blue-pointed porgy). While we were working, an Israeli navy patrol boat approached us, followed by a rubber dinghy. We tried to get away. The patrol boat and the rubber dinghy chased us, firing live bullets and rubber[-coated metal] bullets into the air. After we’d gotten about 200 meters away, the soldiers ordered us to stop, and we did. They told us to take our clothes off and jump in the water. We took our clothes off and swam over to the rubber boat, one by one. It took us to the patrol boat. The soldiers blindfolded us, tied our hands, and sat us down next to each other.

After sailing for about an hour, the boat stopped. They took our blindfolds off and ordered us off the boat. It was Ashdod port. They gave us flip-flops and took us to a room, where they sat us down and blindfolded us again. Then a doctor came and took my temperature. He asked me if I was sick and I said I wasn’t.

Then they used metal handcuffs to tie our hands and put us in a small bus that took us to Erez Crossing. At the crossing, they replaced the metal handcuffs with zip ties and brought us in, one by one, to an interrogation room. I went in last. When I got in the room, there was an interrogator there. He started asking me why I was angry. I said I was angry because they’d taken our boat, which is our livelihood. He started saying that they’d taken the boat because we’d crossed the border, and I told him it wasn’t true. He asked where we’d been, and I said in the permitted area. Then he asked if I was afraid of getting hit by a bullet. I said no. The interrogator asked me to point our house out on a map on a computer. When I asked what he wanted with our house, he said he wanted to know if I was really a fisherman or not. I told him he’d taken my boat, which I use for work. He asked for my cell phone number, and I told him I don’t have one. The interrogator kept asking me about my uncle’s house and my neighbors’ houses. Then he asked where I wanted to work. I said I don’t know, because I have no job other than fishing. He asked if I wanted to work in Israel. I said no. Then he started telling me they’d get me a car or a motorbike. I said I didn’t want to and that I wanted to leave. The interrogator asked: Don’t you want to tell me about a house that belongs to someone from Hamas?

Then I was taken to a room where we waited for about an hour. At around 2:00 P.M., they told us to go to the departure hall that leads to Gaza. We walked all the way to the other side of the checkpoint, where Hamas police are stationed. They interrogated us about what happened at sea and at Erez. Then they took us to the Internal Security Services Headquarters at Jabalya, where they kept us until 8:00 P.M. From there, they transferred us to the Internal Security Services Headquarters in Gaza, at al-Ansar, where they arrested us. They gave us dark glasses instead of a blindfold, so we wouldn’t see anything. Then they asked me my name and led me to a small cell, 2 meters by 80 cm. Later, they brought me food and drink. The next day, Saturday, 13 August 2016, an officer took me into a room and asked me about what happened. Then they took me back to the cell. I stayed there until the next morning, Sunday, 14 August. Then they took me into an interrogation room where there were two officers. They asked me again about what had happened at sea and at Erez Crossing until I got to the Hamas checkpoint. Then they took me back to the cell, and I stayed there the next day, too. On Tuesday, 16 August, they transferred me to another cell, where my father was, and brought us a meal. At 3:00 P.M., they released us. The officers asked us not to go close to the border at sea, and not to put ourselves at risk so we don’t get arrested. Then they gave me a summons to a meeting on 31 August 2016, at 9:00 A.M.

I came on the set date. They sent me to a room on the fourth floor. An officer came and asked me again about what had happened at sea. He was looking at some paper in front of him, comparing what I was saying to the notes from the previous interrogation. When he finished the interrogation, he asked me: “Did you come from the sea? I said I had. He said: “You won’t give up and still go to sea!” I told him it’s my work and that there’s no other work in Gaza.

Launch boats in Gaza's fishing port. Photo by Muhammad Sabah, B'Tselem, 11 Jan. 2017

Mustafa Muhammad Khalil a-Najar, 29, a married father of two from Rafah, said in a testimony from 19 July 2016:

I’ve worked in fishing with my father and brothers since I was 14 years old. We have six hasake rowboats of various kinds and one felucca sailing boat. On Monday, 18 April 2016, at 5:00 P.M., I set off from Rafah port with two hired workers. To save on fuel, a big launch boat tugged us out to sea. When we were about 8 nautical miles off shore, we disengaged from the launch. I turned toward the area off Khan Yunis, to keep away from the Egyptian border and stay out of dangerous areas. When I got to about 9 nautical miles off shore, we put the nets out and went to sleep on the boat, sometime between 10:00 P.M. and midnight. We waited for the wind to die down before pulling up the nets, which were spread to a distance of about 2 km.

At 12:30 A.M., an Israeli military boat came from the northeast and started shooting from a large distance, straight at us. We got scared and turned on the motor and started fleeing to the southeast. The boat kept chasing us and shooting for about an hour. Our boat took a few bullets. When they started shooting directly at me and at the other people on the boat, I stopped. The Israeli boat stopped about 200 meters away from us. They sent a rubber boat over, and the soldiers ordered us to take our clothes off. We stayed in our underwear. They tied our hands behind our backs and brought us on to the rubber boat. They blindfolded us and took us to the ship, and had us sit in the bow. It was cold, and we asked for some clothes or something to cover ourselves. The soldiers refused. When we kept asking, they kicked us. Then they tied my boat to their boat and tugged it. We sailed to Ashdod port and got there at about 8:00 A.M. While we were sailing, I asked an officer on the ship about my boat, and he said it had been confiscated. I asked him when I would get it back, and he said within two weeks. When I asked him why they’d done it, he said I’d broken the law.

When we got to Ashdod port, they gave us our clothes and took us into a room where there were already about seven fishermen from Rafah and Gaza. Their hands were tied with metal handcuffs and they were lying on the floor. We joined them. They left us like that, without food or drink.

At noon, an officer came and told us we would be taken to Erez Crossing and interrogated there. We all asked about our boats. He said they were confiscated at Ashdod port and that one had been hit in the bow, and the navy was trying to keep it from sinking. I knew it was my boat. Then they put us a bus that drove us to Erez checkpoint, where Shabak (Israel Security Agency) interrogators questioned each of us separately. The interrogator asked me for my details and took down my cell phone number. He told me I’d exceeded the 9-nautical-mile range and that was why they shot at us and confiscated my boat. I told him I hadn’t sailed past the buoy that the military had put out and that I’d stayed within the nine-mile range. I asked him about my boat and he said it hadn’t sunk yet, and that it was with the rest of the boats that had been confiscated. My interrogation lasted about half an hour and ended at around 4:00 P.M. At about 6:30 P.M., they let us go and we went back to Gaza.

Later that day, I contacted the Ministry of Agriculture, the Fishermen’s Association, and the Coast Guard. They told me my boat was at Ashdod port. After about ten days, I was told by the Fisheries Department that my boat had sunk and that the Israeli ship hadn’t managed to salvage it.

I make most of my income from fishing. My boat was seven meters long and there was a lot of expensive equipment on it. We bought it about four years ago, and it’s now worth 20,000 shekels [over USD 5,000]. The motor was worth 30,000 shekels [almost USD 8,000 ]. I sold my wife’s jewellery for about 3,000 Jordanian dinars [just over USD 4,000] in order to buy it. I also took out a loan for the same amount from relatives and acquaintances. I still owe money to the suppliers. Because I didn’t have the boat, I missed the grouper and porgy season. Losing the boat caused problems with other members of the family, too, because they had also used it for their livelihoods. The employees who were with me that day lost their jobs. I’m heartbroken about the boat and the motor – they were new and I can’t afford to buy others to replace them. Ever since that happened, I’ve been sitting at home with nothing to do.

Ahmad Abu Hamadah. Photo by Muhammad Sabah, B'Tselem, 27 Jan. 2017

Ahmad Jamal Lutfi Abu Hamadah, 29, a married father of four from a-Shati Refugee Camp, said in his testimony on 16 November 2016:

I work as a fisherman on one of my dad’s four hasake rowboats. I started working in fishing when I was 17 years old. Our boats are made of fiberglass and they require constant maintenance and replacement of fiberglass parts due to saltwater damage, crashes with other boats at the port, or just wear, and also because of Israeli navy fire. About a year and a half ago, the boat I work on crashed into the port dock. There were high winds and the rope tying it to the dock had broken. The bow got holes in it. The side of another of our boats also crashed, apparently by a fisherman who hit it when it was docked at the port, but we don’t know who it was.

We pretty much stopped working on both these boats because of their state. They constantly had to be drained, and we had to make sure they didn’t fill with water so we wouldn’t sink. We tried to get fiberglass to fix them but it was very hard to find, because Israel has been banning this material from coming in for a few years now. Before the ban, a kilo of fiberglass that came from Israel cost 16 shekels [around 4 USD]. Then there was fiberglass that came from Egypt through the tunnels, but in 2013 they got shut down. Since then, there’s been a shortage and the only fiberglass available is what they make here in Gaza. It’s much more expensive. I decided to get fiberglass anyway, and I bought 8 kilos for 80 shekels [around 21 USD] per kilo. I bought another 2 kilos of paint for 50 shekels [around 13 USD] and three meters of a special wrapping cloth for 180 shekels [a little over 45 USD]. I also paid 300 shekels [almost 80 USD] for timber and labor. So, altogether, repairing a small part in the bow of the boat cost me about 1,500 shekels [almost 400 USD]. I didn’t have the money, so I had to borrow it so I could work and make a living.

The repair to the other boat is more significant. It would cost 2,500 shekels [around 660 USD], and we can’t fix it at the moment. We will have to do it soon though, because I work with my father and my three brothers, and that’s our entire family’s livelihood. Now, with the boat out of commission, our income is very low, especially during winter when there isn’t much fishing.

The ban on fiberglass causes a lot of losses to fishermen, because we can’t fix boats and continue working, which makes everyone’s already difficult financial situation even worse.

Ahmad Abu Hamadah by his boat, now out of commission. Photo by Muhammad Sabah, B'Tselem, 26 Jan. 2017

* Figures updated in June 2018 to reflect new information received by B'Tselem.

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The Gaza Strip

Plunged into despair: How Israel's policy affects Gazan families that depend on fishing for a living

On 12 August 2020, Israel reduced southern Gaza’s fishing range from 15 to eight nautical miles, officially because explosive-laden balloons had been launched from Gaza into Israel. On 16 August 2020, Israel banned access to the Gaza sea, and on 2 September 2020, reopened the fishing zone to 15 nautical miles. This further restriction of the permitted range joins various forms of collective punishment imposed on Palestinian fishermen since Israel began its blockade of the Gaza Strip in 2007. Israel has arrested fishermen and seized their boats, banned the import of raw materials used for repairs, and fired at boats that it claimed sailed beyond the permitted range. To date, Israeli gunfire has killed seven fishermen and wounded hundreds. The restrictions have led to the near-collapse of the Gazan fishing industry: there are currently less than 4,000 fishermen, as opposed to 10,000 or so 20 years ago. Those remaining suffer from perilous working conditions imposed by Israel and live with their families in abject poverty. The following testimonies were given to B'Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd by wives and mothers of Gazan fishermen and fishmongers. Describing their painful reality and uncertain future, the women talked of constantly fearing for their loved ones and of the financial hardship created by Israel's restriction of their livelihoods – which is set to worsen due to the pandemic. In a testimony she gave on 5 August 2020, Intesar a-Sa'idi (52), a mother of six from a-Shati’ Refugee Camp in Gaza City, described the financial hardship and personal tragedy that befell her family: When my husband Marwan and I got married in 1984, he was already a fisherman. It's his only profession. My sons and their uncles are also fishermen. At first, our finances were fine and my husband's job didn't seem too risky. At that time, the Israeli military didn't shoot or arrest fishermen or confiscate their equipment. Fishermen were allowed to go quite far out and there were lots of fish. My husband earned well, 2,000 to 3,000 shekels (~600-890 USD) a week, so I had no reason to worry. He worked on his own rowboat and when our boys, Khader and a-Sayed, were young, he would take them out to sea and teach them the trade. I was calm and didn't really fear for their lives. Things changed when the blockade started. The restricted fishing range made things much worse for us. Now, fishermen have to risk their lives to put food on the table. I'm terrified my husband and children will be shot or arrested or have their equipment confiscated. Four times, soldiers arrested them and released them the same day but took away their gear. Every time I heard there'd been a shooting at sea, I was in a panic until I found out my boys were okay. To make sure, I'd go to the port and wait until I saw them get off the boat safe and sound, and only then I'd go home. In 2012 my husband stopped fishing because of back problems, and since then my two sons have been the family’s only providers. Both are married with children and we all live in the same house. Our financial difficulty forced me to sell my gold jewelry and borrow from relatives. To this day, we owe money and can't pay it back. In 2017, the military arrested Khader. We didn't hear from him and only found out he was under arrest 10 days later. They tried him and sentenced him to 16 months in prison. They said he’d gone beyond the fishing range several times and that they'd finally caught him. I suffered a lot while Khader was in prison. At first, I cried day and night. I couldn't sleep and knew no joy. On visiting days, I’d cry beforehand, during the visit and afterwards. It was a very rough time. When they arrested Khader, they confiscated his rowboats and gave them back useless – just the wood, without the gear. After Khader was released and went back to work, a disaster happened. About a year and a half ago, on 20 February 2019, he was out fishing. That night, we heard that the military had chased some rowboats and taken one to the port of Ashdod. My son a-Sayed told me that Khader had been arrested, but I had a feeling that he’d been hurt. I was in the dark for four days. The other fishermen were released, but not Khader. Finally, I learned that he'd been hit in the right eye by a rubber bullet and lost his sight in both eyes, and was hospitalized in Israel. When they brought him to a-Shifaa Hospital in Gaza, I saw him for the first time and broke down crying. Since then my life's been a tragedy. My heart is full of sorrow for Khader, who is a prisoner in his own home. He's unemployed and can't support his family. His financial situation is truly tragic. He doesn't receive any benefits or support, other than small donations from generous people. His medication costs about 150 (~45 USD) shekels a month. Khader's in a bad emotional state. He doesn't like to go out in his condition, stays at home all day and doesn't sleep at night. He's very tense. It would have been better if the bullet had hit another part of his body. It's very hard to lose your eyesight, especially for a guy who's only 32. Of everyone in the family, I'm the one most affected by Khader's situation. I'm the one who cares for his needs and provides for his children. All fishing gave him was trouble and heartache. The riches of the sea stayed in the sea, and I was left with pain over my son who lost his eyesight at sea. Today, my son a-Sayed (33) works as a hired fisherman and sometimes rents a boat. We make 500 shekels (~150 USD) a month at most – not enough for such a big family. I get a welfare benefit of 1,800 shekels (~530 USD) every three or four months, and even that's not enough to repay our debts. The problem is that the economy in Gaza is in such bad shape that there are no other lines of work available. When my grandchildren play, they imitate their fathers and build small rowboats and net-making machines. They say, “We’re going out to work!” or "Watch out for gunfire.” I look at them and say, “Don’t take up this trade. I don’t want to lose you! I’m more scared for you than I am for your fathers.” I hope the situation gets better and we see brighter days. I hope God will give Khader his eyesight back and that his mental state will improve. Nura Nu’man (22), a mother of two from a-Shati’ Refugee Camp in Gaza City, described fearing for her husband Muamen (31), a fisherman, and the family’s financial troubles: When Muamen goes to work, I worry that he won't come back. I relax only once he's home. In early 2018, Muamen went fishing and didn’t come back for a long time. I feared for his safety when I learned from other fishermen in the family that the military had arrested him. I was terrified and cried. The military was also holding his brother at the time. I was scared Muamen wouldn't come home. My son Muhammad was only seven months old. For three weeks we didn't know where they were holding Muamen, and I barely slept or ate. Finally, he was released. When he walked in, I couldn't believe my eyes. I started laughing and crying at the same time. I hugged him and was so happy. After the arrest, he went back to work despite the risk. It's his only profession. Between 2013 and 2017, the military confiscated three family boats. So far they've only given one back. Last year, Muamen's brothers bought a boat and he started working with them – five brothers in one boat. Every weekend he gets 150 shekels (~45 USD), but it isn't enough for the four of us, especially since the kids are young and need diapers and milk every day. My life revolves around loans and debts to family and friends. My mother-in-law gets 750 shekels (~220 USD) from the Welfare Ministry every three or four months and divides it among her sons. My husband uses every bit to pay off our debts. Sometimes, he takes loans to buy nets and paddles, and when he sells fish he uses the money to pay off the debt. When I hear soldiers opened fire at fishermen, I immediately call my brothers-in-law to check on Muamen and can't breathe easy until he's home. He's also scared of being arrested or killed. That makes me even more nervous. I ask him not to talk like that and to come back safe and sound, God willing. Sometimes I tell Muamen that I hope he takes up a different line of work, because of the danger he faces at sea and from the Israeli military. I ask him to look for another job and leave the sea. But he says the situation in Gaza is bad and that there's no work besides fishing. He asks me to be patient and hope for better days. I pray to God to keep the Israeli military away from my husband and from the other fishermen. I pray for our finances to improve so my little sons can have a secure future. I pray for my husband to stay safe and sound and not get hurt. ‘Ula a-Sa'idi (36), a married mother of nine from a-Shati’ Refugee Camp in Gaza City, spoke about the difficulty of depending on fishing: My husband Ahmad (42) has worked as a fisherman since we got married 18 years ago. It's a demanding job and even though all my relatives are fishermen, I don't like it because it's very dangerous. But it's our only income, so we have to live with the risk. We're in a financial crisis. After the blockade started, my husband's income dropped to 700 shekels (~210 USD) a month. Now, even though he works hard, we make 500 shekels a month at most. That's a pretty low income and isn't enough for our needs. I used to get a benefit of 1,800 shekels (~530 USD) from the Welfare Ministry every three or four months. After four years, it dropped to 700 shekels. That's not enough to live on and sometimes isn't even enough to cover our basic daily needs or buy new holiday clothes for the children. Since the coronavirus outbreak, things have grown even worse because the economic situation in Gaza is bad and people are buying less fish. There are fewer foreigners in Gaza so there are fewer large events and orders. My husband works on his brother's boat with him. He goes out to sea at around 3:00 P.M. and gets back after 3:00 A.M. When he goes fishing I pray to God to keep him safe, away from the soldiers and their gunfire. I can't relax until he gets home or calls me. When he's at sea I'm very anxious, especially when I hear the sound of shooting at fishermen. I get nervous and call him right away to make sure he's okay. My kids also get anxious when they hear gunfire, wondering which of the fishermen was arrested and hoping it wasn't their dad. I try to calm them down and tell them to be patient, and that their dad will come home. When my husband is late, my son Anas (9) walks to the port of Gaza port to wait for him because he's so worried. Fishing is the worst profession for a wife. In winter my husband suffers from extreme cold, so I worry about that, too, as well as the dangers of the sea and mostly the shooting at fishermen. Whenever someone tells me that soldiers opened fire at fishermen, I feel I'm about to lose my husband. I pray to God to bring him back to us safe and sound. The military arrested my husband several times, most recently in 2018. In 2007 he was held for half a year. They also seized two of our boats and four engines and are holding them at the port of Ashdod. Usually, the military doesn't return the boats and engines it takes. I hope our situation improves one day. I wish they would give us back our boats so my husband could have his own boat, and that they'd expand the permitted fishing range. I want to live in dignity, secure my children's future and satisfy their needs and wishes. I hope they won't become fishermen. It's a tough, dangerous job. ‘A.M. (49), a married mother of nine from a-Shati’ Refugee Camp in Gaza City whose husband is a fish merchant, related in a testimony she gave on 9 August 2020: I got married in 1989. My husband has been working in fishing since he was 12. He worked with his father, who was a fishmonger, and with other relatives. I have nine children, ranging in age from six to 29. We live by the coast and many people in our family work in fishing. In our first years of marriage, there were plenty of fish and there wasn't much competition. My husband would go to the fish market at 3:00 A.M., bring home a large quantity of fish, clean them and take them to the market. Usually, he'd sell them all within two hours and come home. We had a good income of about 3,000 to 4,000 (~890-1,190 USD) shekels a month. It went on like that for years, and we enjoyed a high standard of living. We bought our own home and I had everything I needed. I even bought myself gold jewelry. We raised our children at a time when our finances were great. They lacked for nothing. We lived happily and comfortably. About 13 years ago, when Israel started its blockade on Gaza, things changed. Business suffered, the fishing zone was limited and sometimes fishing was banned altogether. Fish became scarce and costly for the merchants and the consumers. People used to buy four or five kilos in summer, when fish were plentiful. Now they only buy one or two kilos. Sometimes, my husband has to bring some or all of the fish back home. He stays at the market through the afternoon or evening, trying in vain to sell them. The power shortages make it impossible to keep the fish refrigerated, and sometimes they go off. Since the blockade started, our finances have deteriorated. My husband doesn't own a stall in the market, so he rents a space a meter or two wide for about 10 shekels (~3 USD) a day. My children work with him selling fish, but our total income doesn't exceed 1,500 shekels (~445 USD) a month for a family of 14. Two of my sons are married and one has children, but we all live in the same house. Although we're a large family, we don't get a welfare benefit as my husband is self-employed. To pay off debts and pay for my children’s weddings, I sold all my gold jewelry and 250 square meters of land I'd bought. One of our sons dropped out of university because we couldn't keep paying the tuition. Since the coronavirus crisis started, the situation has become worse: restaurants and hotels hardly ever buy fish because they're closed for long periods and Gaza has no visitors because the crossings are closed. The crisis has really hurt my husband's work at the market. It's very tough not being able to meet my children's needs. I couldn't buy them clothes for the holidays and for the start of the school year. They have to use last year’s clothes, backpacks and even shoes. My heart aches because I really wanted to give them new things! But we can't afford it and every time they ask for something, like going on a trip, I put them off again and again. It hurts, because I'd like to see their eyes filled with joy. The situation is depressing and suffocating, but I know there's no other work for my husband or for our children. I hope our situation improves.

9 September 2020

No Accountability

Human Rights in the Occupied Territories

The report surveys the broad spectrum of issues regarding the Israeli authorities' human rights record in the West Bank and Gaza Strip over the past year, the 44th year of the Israeli occupation. An interactive version of the report is available online and distributed through social media. The report documents a sharp increase in the number of uninvolved Palestinians killed by the Israeli security forces in the Gaza Strip in 2011. There was also an increase in the number of Israeli civilians killed by Palestinians, compared to 2010.

21 March 2012

Amneh a-Zawar’ah. Photy by Olfat al-Kurd, B'Tselem

The Gaza Strip

Amneh a-Zawar’ah, a 42-year-old mother of five children between the ages of 14 and 23 from Beit Lahiya, spoke to B’Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd about her life since Israel bombed her house on 13 May 2021

My husband, Ibrahim a-Zawar’ah (54), is serving a 16-year prison sentence in Israel. He has four years left. Until 2021 we had a big, three-story house, but it was bombed in the last war. I’ve been in rough shape ever since, financially and psychologically. I can’t believe this happened to us. We had our own home, and suddenly we’ve become displaced. I’ve had no comfort since. Our house was bombed on 13 May 2021. It was completely destroyed. When the bombing happened, I was visiting relatives with my children. At around 2:00 A.M., I found out from the media that the Israeli military had bombed our house and about nine other residential buildings in the area. My son ‘Abdallah was at his barbershop, which was inside our home. We heard that members of the a-Tanani and al-Madhun families had been killed, and we were really worried about ‘Abdallah. My brothers drove there quickly and thank God, they found him outside the house. He was very scared and in a terrible emotional state. They had to carry him, he was in rough shape. I went to my house the next morning. All I found was a pile of sand and stones. All the money and work I put into that house were lost. I felt that I was falling apart, that I’d lost my entire world. For years, I put all my money and time into building that house for my children. That day, when we went to visit our relatives, we didn’t take anything with us. The house was reduced to rubble, and all our furniture and belongings we’ll never get back were buried under it. The house was simply erased. The destruction I saw, of our home and in the whole area, caused me grief and despair. My children and I needed psychiatric help and we took sedatives for two months straight, especially my son ‘Abdallah (23), who saw the houses crumble in front of his eyes and the bodies of the martyrs who died in the area. He still can’t sleep and has nightmares. After the house was bombed, we lived at my parents’. Those were very difficult days. Our nerves were frayed. We cried all day and all night. I have a large family, and the house was very crowded. I couldn’t stand living there, so after a few months, I looked for a house to rent for my children and me. I rented in the a-Sheikh Zayed area in Beit Lahiya. The rent is 200 USD a month. I paid with my own money for the first month, and then we got about 2,000 USD from UNRWA to pay rent and buy furniture and clothes for my children and me. All our expensive appliances and furniture, it’s all gone. That sum of money was not enough for us to buy everything we needed to provide for the family, and we only bought a few basic pieces of furniture. Last December, UNRWA gave us another 2,500 ILS for four months’ rent, but that doesn’t cover the water and electricity bills. There are six of us in the family. The house isn’t enough for us. It has only two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom and a kitchen. There’s no heating or hot water. A lot of the time there’s no running waters and we go to shower at my parents’ house. Sometimes we heat water on the stovetop. The house is also a little far from my kids’ school, which also makes life difficult. Our financial situation is terrible. I built that house with my money, little by little, and they destroyed it in a single moment. It was costly. I borrowed a lot of money to build the house and was in a lot of debt. We were planning to move to the second floor. ‘Abdallah is engaged, but we have no money for the wedding and I don’t know where they’ll live when they get married. He’s also lost his barbershop, and now he works for another barber in town. No one hears our cries. We’re innocent civilians. Why was my house bombed? Why did they turn us into displaced persons? Life as displaced persons is extremely difficult, without a house of our own, without stability. This war wasn’t our fault. We weren’t warned and weren’t even given a chance to take something from the house. Our lives were turned upside down. I think about our home all the time. It brings back sweet memories of the life I had there, with all my family around me. I remember the sun-soaked roof. Every corner of the house had beautiful memories, of daily life and entertaining guests. Now, my main concern is building a home again for myself and the children.

10 May 2022