Gaza: The young man who spends hours every day repairing old and torn banknotes

“The ceasefire did not change the financial situation. What I do now is to serve and help people.”

Two years of war led to economic collapse in Gaza. A new United Nations report indicates that its entire population, more than two million people, has fallen into poverty due to the conflict.

Four out of five people are unemployed, according to the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), and even those who still have income or savings struggle to access money.

“It is pure suffering and nothing more,” says Numan Rayhan, who had to seek shelter in Gaza City from Jabalia in northern Gaza, with only a few of his possessions.

“No income, no money, no cash flow from the banks.”

Early in the war, Israeli attacks targeted banks that Israeli authorities claimed were linked to Hamas. Its coffers have been looted by armed Palestinian gangs, some of whom are likely Hamas. The Palestine Monetary Authority has already reported that about US$180 million (R$136 million) in cash was stolen.

Cogat, the Israeli defense agency that controls Gaza’s border crossings, confirmed that in accordance with the political system “and because of Hamas’ reliance on cash to continue its military activities,” Israel did not allow money to enter Gaza.

Zakaria Ajour, a stall owner in another market in Gaza City, says that the lack of cash in circulation “caused problems for both sellers and consumers.”

People no longer want to accept worn and fragile banknotes at their face value, “if there are even small scratches or pieces of tape on the bill.”

“Some clients come to me just because they want a change in transportation, but I don’t have any change,” Ajour continues.

“Ten-shekel coins are almost impossible to find, and even when they are found, they are practically worthless due to the inflation caused by the money crisis.”

Now, there are long lines outside the Bank of Palestine in Gaza City, one of nine branches of five banks that have reopened. Only customers can reactivate frozen accounts, open new accounts or access banking applications.

Asmaa Al-Ladaa wants to open an account so she can receive money directly from her relatives who live outside Gaza. “The whole process is chaotic, and the bank is always crowded,” she says. “We woke up at six in the morning and left our children in a tent. We left everything behind to come to the bank.”

In the city of Khan Yunis, in the south of the country, where damage to branches was so severe and banks have not yet been able to reopen their doors, Abu Khalil had just returned from a trip to central Gaza.

After spending most of the day in line, he was unable to enter the bank, and felt desperate at the thought of having to return again.

The grandfather still receives a monthly salary of about 2,000 shekels (3,275 Brazilian reals) from the Palestinian Authority, but he says that nearly half of his income is spent on the fees he pays to vendors or money changers.

“You have to pay the fees,” he complains. “There is no alternative.”

During the war, to cope with the urgent need for cash, many small business owners who had previously provided transfer and exchange services began charging customers high commissions for converting bank transfers into cash.

Sometimes the commission reaches 50%, but it has recently decreased.

A scalper who prefers to remain anonymous tells the reporter that market forces determine commission rates. “Our work is directly linked to market activity and the flow of goods and aid,” he says.

“When there are incoming goods and active purchases and sales, the commission drops significantly, sometimes reaching less than 20%. But when transportation is closed, the rate rises.”

Electronic transfers through banking apps – for which shopkeepers and stall owners charge a small fee – have become a popular alternative for Gazans making purchases, even for small goods.

The Palestine Monetary Authority, which acts as a financial regulator, launched a payment system that allows instant transactions between local bank accounts.

For those who do not have accounts, the Bank of Palestine offers e-wallets and claims that there are already more than 500,000 users in Gaza.

These transactions can be done without an internet connection or app, using text messaging services on any mobile phone.

E-wallets are used to send financial aid directly to families in need, by humanitarian agencies including UNICEF and the World Food Programme.

Since the beginning of last year, UNICEF says it has been able to make cash transfers to about one million people, half of whom are children. Priority is given to vulnerable children, including amputees, orphans and pregnant or breastfeeding mothers.

“Basically, you go to the supermarket and the phone is used as a payment card, and you can buy with it,” explains UNICEF’s Jonathan Crakes.

“This allows for very high traceability of how the money is actually spent. From what we have observed, 99% of all beneficiaries spend firstly on food and water, secondly on hygiene items such as soap, and thirdly on electricity through generators.”

Krix says he personally witnessed families having to buy 2 kilograms of tomatoes for about US$80 (R$425) and 5kg of onions for US$70 (R$370).

Hanan Abu Jahl, who was displaced from Gaza City and lives with her family in Al-Zawaida camp in central Gaza, received 1,200 shekels (1,950 Brazilian reals) from UNICEF. The money was used to buy basic items such as rice, lentils and pasta.

“My children need vegetables, fruits, meat and eggs. My youngest son, in particular, desperately wants to eat eggs, but I cannot buy them, because the prices are still too high and I need to cater for 12 people,” she says.

The 20-point peace plan presented by US President Donald Trump promises “an economic development plan to rebuild and revitalize Gaza” by convening “a panel of experts who have helped create some of the Middle East’s thriving modern miracle cities.”

The plan envisions new investments and “exciting development ideas” that could “create jobs, opportunity and hope for Gaza’s future.” But there are no details on how to begin generating growth and stability, while the UN trade agency warns that the Gaza Strip is experiencing its most serious economic crisis ever.

Back in Gaza City, Baraa Abu Aoun holds the paper he is working on brilliantly up to the light. He has more customers waiting for him, attracted by the sign he placed next to his desk promising repairs “with the utmost professionalism and no tape.”

While he works hard, he longs to return to a normal life, with the prospect of a job that would allow him to earn a better income.

“I just want this war to end forever,” he says. “I hope that I will finally feel comfortable so that I can study, work and get a university degree.”

“In Gaza, we are just living. We are no longer human.”