Gaza aid is a mere ‘teaspoon’ of
what is needed, says Guterres, amid widening starvation and destruction across
the enclave.
Palestinians
in Gaza are enduring “what may be the cruellest phase of this cruel conflict,”
says the United Nations Secretary-General Antonio Guterres, warning that
Israel’s escalating military campaign and prolonged blockade have pushed the
population to the brink of famine.
“For
nearly 80 days, Israel blocked the entry of life-saving international aid,”
Guterres said in a statement on Friday, condemning the scale of human
suffering. “The entire population of Gaza is facing the risk of famine.”
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Although
Israel has allowed only several hundred trucks to cross into Gaza this week
following a partial easing of its 11-week siege, Guterres described the flow of
supplies as woefully insufficient.
“All
the aid authorised until now amounts to a teaspoon of aid when a flood of
assistance is required,” he said.
The
UN chief said the Israeli campaign has intensified with “atrocious levels of
death and destruction,” while access for humanitarian groups remains dangerous
and erratic. “Eighty percent of Gaza has been either declared an Israeli
militarised zone or is under evacuation orders,” he noted.
“Without
rapid, reliable, safe and sustained aid access, more people will die – and the
long-term consequences on the entire population will be profound,” Guterres
told reporters in New York.
In
Gaza, Palestinians are struggling on a daily basis to “find food and drinking
water, and still queueing for hours in front of whatever is left of the
operational local community kitchens that are providing only a tiny amount of
food for a hungry population,” said Al Jazeera’s Hani Mahmoud, reporting from
Gaza City.
“The
amount of food or the aid that has been allowed for the past two days, is not
enough or sufficient, and does not address the deepening humanitarian crisis
caused by months of Israeli devastation and bombardment across the strip,” he
said.
Meanwhile,
Israeli attacks have killed at least 76 Palestinians across Gaza since Friday.
At least 53,822 Palestinians have been killed in Israeli attacks since October
7, 2023 and more than 122,382 others wounded – most of them women and children.
‘Appeal
for life-saving aid’
Israel
claims about 300 trucks have entered Gaza since Monday through the Karem Abu
Salem crossing, known as Kerem Shalom to Israelis, but the UN says only a third
of those deliveries have reached warehouses inside the enclave due to security
constraints and chaos on the ground.
The
figure is far short of the more than 500 trucks that entered Gaza daily before
the start of Israel’s war on Gaza in October 2023.
A
new United States-backed delivery mechanism – run by the newly established Gaza
Humanitarian Foundation (GHF) – is expected to take over aid distribution by
the end of the month. Under the plan, private contractors would escort supplies
to secure hubs, where civilian teams would handle distribution.
But
the UN has refused to participate, saying the scheme does not meet basic
humanitarian standards.
“The
United Nations has been clear: we will not take part in any scheme that fails
to respect international law and the humanitarian principles of humanity,
impartiality, independence and neutrality,” Guterres said.
He
stressed that the UN already has the infrastructure to respond. “The supplies –
160,000 pallets, enough to fill nearly 9,000 trucks – are waiting,” he said.
“This
is my appeal for life-saving aid for the long-suffering people of Gaza: let’s
do it right. And let’s do it right away.”
For Israel, the
park in Sebastia will be a link to their heritage. Palestinians see an attempt
to force them out.
Sebastia, occupied West Bank – Israel calls it an archaeological
project to highlight Jewish heritage and create a new Israeli national park.
Palestinians see it as further evidence of Israel’s plans to annex an ancient
town and erase Palestinian history in an area that tells the 5,000-year-old
shared story of the peoples who have lived in this land.
Far-right, pro-settler Israeli government ministers were in
Sebastia on May 12 as part of a delegation to mark the looming seizure of the
town’s archaeological park, one of the largest and most important of 6,000
sites in the West Bank.
Ultranationalist Israeli Minister of Heritage Amichai Eliyahu,
himself a resident of an illegal West Bank settlement, hailed the beginning of
Israeli excavation at the site and the coming creation of “Samaria National
Park”, which will focus on the area’s Jewish history.
Palestinians say that will come along with an attempt to paint
over their ties to the land. The Palestinian Ministry of Tourism and
Antiquities called the excavations “preparation for Sebastia’s annexation and
isolation from its surroundings”.
Israeli politicians refer to Sebastia as Samaria, or Shomron in
Hebrew, and say it was the capital of the Biblical Kingdom of Israel nearly
three millennia ago.
But the archaeological site includes the ruins of a Byzantine
basilica, a Roman forum and amphitheatre, and the Crusader-era Church of St
John, which was rebuilt into a mosque – and is believed to be the site of the
tomb of John the Baptist, known in the Quran as Prophet Yahya.
Sebastia’s archaeological park, once a tourism hotspot and still
a pilgrimage site for Christians, is being considered for inclusion on UNESCO’s
world heritage list, subject to an application being finalised by Palestinian
officials.
‘River of blood’
Sebastia mayor Mohammed Azim and town residents have long been
warning of Israel’s intention to “Judaise” Sebastia and turn it into an
Israeli-only tourism site.
Alarm intensified after the municipality received a land seizure
order to construct an installation for “military purposes” at the summit of an
ancient hilltop in the area last July.
Speaking to Al Jazeera in his office overlooking the
increasingly deserted old town, Azim said a “river of blood will flow into the
village” if construction of the barracks begins.
“The military is aiming to make life unbearable for the
residents here, so they eventually surrender to reality and leave – just like
those who have been displaced in Jenin and Tulkarem,” Azim said, referring to
the more than 40,000 Palestinians displaced by Israeli military operations in
the occupied West Bank this year.
“Now, soldiers enter the village daily – and with the clear
intention of killing,” Azim added. “We will resist construction – peacefully,
of course. The landowners will not give up their land.”
The mayor called for condemnation of intensifying military
violence in the village and the targeting of children, notably the army’s fatal
shooting of 14-year-old Ahmad Jazar in January.
For its part, the Israeli state argues that the village of
Sebastia will not be affected by the archaeological work, as it lies outside
the boundaries of the proposed national park.
But Sebastia Archaeological Museum curator and lifelong
resident, Walaa Ghazzal, says the plans are an escalation in Israel’s plans to
eventually expel residents and business owners and prevent Palestinians from
accessing the town, its ruins, and the sprawling hills and olive fields around
it.
Ghazzal told Al Jazeera that “residents are afraid of the
future”, especially those near the ruins.
“The situation is very dangerous,” she said. “Soon, they will
prevent us from going to the archaeological site.
“In my opinion, we have only months before we are told to leave
our homes,” Ghazzal added. “We are seeing the future in Gaza and in the camps
[in the West Bank]. They are trying to erase us.”
‘Biblical heritage’
Israeli ministers and settler politicians are using rhetoric
about protecting Jewish Biblical heritage to disguise their long-held desire to
annex Sebastia, Azim said.
Eliyahu was joined in Sebastia by Minister of Environmental
Protection Idit Silman and Yossi Dagan, chairman of the Shomron Regional
Council, which controls 35 illegal West Bank settlements.
Silman has hailed the scheme and told Israeli media, “historical
justice is being done”, accusing Palestinians of attempting to “erase” Jewish
heritage.
The Israeli government has long been clear that Sebastia, which
most historians agree was the capital of the Kingdom of Israel for less than
200 years, will be taken over and transformed into the centrepiece of Israeli
tourism in the West Bank.
In May 2023, the Israeli government approved a 30 million shekel
(more than $8m) scheme to restore the park and establish a tourism centre, new
access roads, and an expanded military presence. The four million shekel
($1.2m) regeneration of a disused Hijaz railway station about two miles from
Sebastia, last operational in the final years of the Ottoman Empire, has also
been announced.
“The archeological excavations are designed to expose the
antiquities of the site and make the ancient city accessible throughout all its
periods: from the beginning of the settlement in the 8th century BCE during the
ancient Kingdom of Israel, through the Hellenistic city, the magnificent Roman
city built by King Herod [called “Sebastos” after Emperor Augustus], to the
Byzantine period when a church was built at the site,” said the office of
Israeli Minister of Heritage Eliyahu.
Erasing Palestinian identity
Ghazzal said Sebastia’s ruins exhibit a “distinct local culture”
in a geographic region which has “always been known as Palestine”. She said the
remains emphasise the religious and cultural importance of the town to
conquering empires, and its multifaith inhabitants’ peaceful coexistence for
centuries.
In the Palestinian submission to UNESCO, it is noted that the
present town of Sebastia still preserves “the ancient name [and] is located on
the eastern part of the Roman city, indicating a strong element of cultural
continuity”.
But for those focused on the planned Israeli national park, it’s
only Jewish history that matters.
Responding to a query from Al Jazeera, Eliyahu’s office said
that Sebastia was “first and foremost a Jewish heritage site, where
archaeological remains from the Kingdom of Israel period were found”.
“It is important to emphasise that even if we were to dig at the
site to the depth of the Earth’s core, not even a grain of historical evidence
of ancient Palestinian settlement would be found at the site,” Eliyahu’s office
added.
Yossi Dagan, who lives in neighbouring Shavei Shomron, has long
advocated for the takeover of Sebastia and emphasises its prominence in
Biblical history. He told Israeli media at the archaeological site: “When you
dig here, you touch the Bible with your own hands.”
But Ghazzal said that the Israeli government’s treatment of the
Biblical stories in the Old Testament as historical reality is designed to
relegate the claims of Palestinians to have lived on the land for thousands of
years, and ignores the Palestinian people’s ancient ties to their land.
“You can’t base your claim to the land on religion –
civilisations are about the people who develop their identity, their works and
monuments – even their language,” Ghazzal said.
“Israel wants to kill the stories from our past and replace them
with poison; it is a crime against our history,” Ghazzal added. “When they
demolish our monuments, remove families who keep the history alive, who will
speak after that – and carry our story for the next generation?”
Ghost town
Ahmad Kayed, a 59-year-old Sebastia villager and leading
activist, told Al Jazeera the ruins will not be “taken without a fight”, and
demonstrations are being instigated.
He said Israel is “planning something big” in Sebastia and
referenced new iron blockades being erected on roads encircling the town.
It is already extremely unsafe for Sebastia residents to visit
the archaeological park because of settler attacks and near-daily military
invasions, he said. But once a military barracks is established, it will be
permanently off limits.
“They are working step by step to get their hands on Sebastia
and keep us suffering all the time so people will leave,” Kayed said, referring
to the at least 40 families that have left the town since October 7, 2023.
“We are in the second Nakba and Sebastia is under siege,” he
added. “But Sebastia is strong, we know how to face them because we have done
it before.”
He pointed out that residents rose up to thwart Israel’s plans
to take Sebastia in the late 1970s, and they did so again to halt settlers
pumping sewage onto agricultural land in 2013. Two years later, residents’
protests and sit-ins blocked the construction of a new access road for
settlers, which Eliyahu’s office justified as necessary for the “hundreds of
thousands of Israelis who will want to come, learn, and experience the Jewish
heritage” of Sebastia.
But Kayed admits times have changed, and violence from the
military today is unlike anything he has experienced in his decades of
activism.
“When we decide what to do, we will be smart, and we will
demonstrate in new ways, and everyone in Sebastia will follow us,” he added.
He was also gravely concerned that if excavations took place,
Israelis would desecrate archaeological findings that contradicted their claim
to the land, with so much still to be uncovered if Palestinian-led digs were
not blocked.
The municipality still hopes UNESCO will provide the village
protection and add the ruins to its World Heritage list. The mayor also hopes
the archaeological park will join 56 other locations on UNESCO’s register of
significant sites considered to be “in danger”.
Businesses near the archaeological site say they have lost more
than three-quarters of their custom since October 7.
Samer Sha’er, owner of a coffee shop directly next to the park
and Sebastia’s imposing Roman columns, said a military outpost would be
devastating for businesses.
“There will be daily confrontations, constant military presence,
and no sense of security,” he said. “No one will want to come and sit here
while the army is stationed nearby – neither shop owners nor visitors will be
able to stay.”
Once holy land coveted by prophets and conquering emperors,
Sebastia has been reduced to a ghost town – haunted by the glory of its
history, which has also made it a target for annexation by the ultranationalist
Israeli government.
Kayed looked visibly moved as he described his youth playing on
the hills of the archaeological park, and a lifetime spent trying to save his
home.
He was evidently aggrieved that the town had not acted more
quickly to unify against the creeping threat of the military barracks or
eventual annexation. But it seems all those concerned, including the town’s
mayor, are not sure what is coming next – or when.
“This land means everything to me,” Kayed added. “I have spent
all my childhood, all my life going to the park.
“They will confiscate my land [to build the barracks]. I planted
olive trees there with my mother, it is very painful to lose them, Kayed said.
“The village will never give up on the ruins – this is our history, our life.
We will fight until the end.”
Hassan
Abo Qamar
In
Gaza, we have sounds of fear and anxiety. We know them all too well: the hum of
spy drones overhead, ambulances screaming through narrow streets, the roar of
military aircraft, the thunder of bombings, the cries of people trapped under
rubble and now a new sound: the sharp clinking of empty gas cylinders.
We
used to know well the tiny click of a gas stove burner starting – that small
spark at the start of a day that meant a hot meal or a cup of tea was coming.
Now, that sound is gone, replaced by the hollow clang of emptiness.
We
used our last drop of cooking gas in the middle of Ramadan. Like all other
families in Gaza, we turned to firewood. I remember my mother saying, “From
today, we cannot even make a cup of tea for suhoor.”
That
is because starting a fire, having even a flicker of light at night could
attract a drone or a quadcopter, resulting in an air strike or a barrage of
bullets. We don’t know why light at night is targeted, but we know we don’t
have the right to ask.
So
we ate cold food for suhoor and saved the fire for iftar.
After
bakeries shut down due to the gas shortage last month, reliance on fire
increased – not just for our family but for everyone. Many people built
makeshift clay ovens or fires in alleyways or between tents to bake loaves of
bread.
Thick,
black smoke hangs heavy in the air – not the smoke of death from missiles, but
the smoke of life that kills us slowly.
Each
morning, we wake up coughing – not a passing cough, but a deep, persistent,
choking cough that rattles through our chests.
Then,
my brother and I walk to the edge of our neighbourhood, where a man sells wood
from the back of a cart. He gathers it from bombed-out buildings, fallen trees,
broken furniture, and the ruins of homes and schools.
We
carry back whatever our weak bodies can and move on to the next suffering:
burning the wood. This is not easy. It demands hours of chopping and breaking
wood and breathing in dust. Our father, despite suffering from shortness of
breath, insists on helping. This stubbornness of his has become the source of
daily arguments, especially between him and my brother.
As
we light the fire, our eyes turn red because of the smoke, our throats sting.
The coughing intensifies.
Firewood
has become incredibly expensive. Before the war, we would pay a dollar for
eight kilos, but now you can buy only one kilo – or even less – for that price.
Impoverishment
has forced many people to chop down their own trees. The greenery in our
neighbourhood has all but disappeared. Many of our neighbours have started
cutting down the trees they grew in their yards. Even we have begun using
branches from our olive tree – the same tree we never dared touch when we were
young, afraid that disturbing it would cause the blossoms to fall and yield
fewer olives.
Families
who have no trees to chop have turned to burning plastic, rubber and trash –
anything that will catch fire. But burning these materials releases toxic
fumes, poisoning the air they breathe and seeping into the food they cook. The
taste of plastic clings to every bite, turning each meal into a health risk.
Constant
exposure to this smoke can cause severe respiratory distress and chronic
illnesses and even lead to life-threatening diseases such as cancer. Yet, what
choice do people have? Without fire, there is no food.
There
is something deeply cruel about the transformation of the kitchen – from a
symbol of family and hospitality into a toxic zone. The fire that once meant
warmth now burns our lungs and eyes. The meals cooked can hardly be called
that: soup from lentils; bread from infested flour or flour mixed with sand.
The joy of preparing food has been replaced by fear, pain and exhaustion.
This
lack of cooking gas has done more than cripple our access to food – it has
dismantled the rituals that hold families together. Meals are no longer a time
to gather and enjoy family time but a time to endure. A time to cough. A time
to pray that today’s fire does not make someone too sick.
If
a bomb does not kill us, we face a slower death: quiet, toxic and just as
cruel.
This
is Gaza today.
A
place where survival means inhaling poison just to have a cup of tea in the
morning.
A
place where firewood has become more valuable than gold.
A
place where even the simple act of eating has been weaponised.
And
yet, we burn.
We
cough.
We
keep going.
What
other choice do we have?
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