Sunday, 12 November 2006  
It was not long after dawn and only a handful of fishing boats from Gaza city harbour were still out at sea. Some had come in earlier to offload the night's sardine catch, most hadn't bothered going out at all. Nearly all the small fleet's wooden boats, their paint fading, lay anchored up in the harbour, as they have for most of this year.

Abu Naim waited for his five sons to return aboard his boat. If the fishing had matched recent days they would be lucky to haul in 200 shekels-worth (£24) of sardines. Allowing for the cost of fuel that would leave 100 shekels between Abu Naim, the crew of seven and a worker waiting with him on the dockside. The fishermen made light of it and warmed their hands over a charcoal grill as one fetched more glasses of tea.

"We are laughing on the outside but inside, the sadness is very deep," said Abu Naim, 53. "We are dead people."

The narrow Gaza Strip is already the most densely populated stretch of land in the world, home to 1.4 million Palestinians, nearly two-thirds of them below the poverty line. The territory is now spiralling down into economic crisis.

Since the militant Hamas movement was elected to power this year, Israel has refused to transfer the $60m (£31m) monthly tax revenues due to the Palestinians, and the west has halted direct financial support for the government. Since March 160,000 government employees, from doctors and teachers to security staff, have gone without their salary. Regular Israeli closures and delays at crossing points out of Gaza have badly hit the already fragile economy.


350 deaths

After militants captured an Israeli soldier near Gaza in June, Israeli military operations have killed more than 350 Palestinians in Gaza, many of them civilians. The attacks culminated in an artillery strike on Wednesday on houses in Beit Hanoun, killing 18 members of a single family.

When the second Palestinian intifada started six years ago, the Israeli military imposed limits on the fishing grounds, accusing some fishermen of smuggling weapons. First they were confined within 12 miles of the coast. Gradually that was reduced. For three months this year they were restricted to the harbour and the beach - a huge blow to an economy in which fishing is still important. Only recently have they been allowed out again, now up to three miles offshore, the fishermen said. The fish are small and the catches light.

Those who stray out too far risk running up against Israeli naval patrols. Hani al-Najar, 27, a fisherman and a father of three young children, was killed last month when the Israeli navy fired at his boat. "My son wasn't a fighter. There wasn't a gun on his boat. He was just a fisherman from a family of fishermen," said his father, Ibrahim al-Najar, 48.

The outside wall of his house was still marked with graffiti yesterday from his son's funeral. "Welcome visitors to the wedding of blood and martyrdom," it read. "Goodbye Hani." Inside the front room hung several identical pictures of his son, young and smartly dressed in white shirt and tie, his hair neatly cut.


Days of hope

After many years in exile in Egypt, Mr Najar had brought his wife and six children back to live in Gaza in 1995, in the wake of the Oslo accords when many Palestinians hoped for peace and statehood. "We were fishing, there was money," he said. Then once the intifada started the economy slumped. "We're in a miserable situation," said Mr Najar. "When I came from Egypt I thought the solution was peace. I still believe that. We want our children to live like others."

Further south, near the town of Khan Yunis, Isa Laham, 43, was trying to repair the large, plastic greenhouses that shelter his tomato crop. Last year he borrowed 7,000 shekels to plant cherry tomatoes. But with crossings frequently closed he couldn't export his crop to Israel. It rotted on the branches. He had to pay workers to tear the plants down.

This year he has borrowed more than 14,000 shekels to plant another tomato crop, hoping at least to be able to sell it in the local market to recoup some of the money he owes. "I'm taking a risk, but if I don't plant anything I haven't a chance of making any money," he said.

Last summer Israel pulled its settlers out of Gaza and many Palestinians hoped for a new start. But Israel retained control over the sea, the air and the land crossings and it has been the closure of crossing points that has hit the economy even harder this year.

"We thought it would be like Singapore," said Mr Laham. "But now there is no comparison. We feel like Africans with our poverty." He has yet to pay his four farm workers for the past year. He has eight children at school and two at the fee-paying Islamic University.

A few minutes drive from the harbour is one of the city's biggest electrical stores. Tareq al-Saqqa, 35, gave up his law degree because his family couldn't afford the fees. Now he imports televisions, fridges and cookers. "Ten years ago we thought a change had come and we all tried to expand," he said. "Then we found it was not as we expected."

Only three times this year has Mr Saqqa been able to get goods from the Israeli port at Ashdod into Gaza. Two months ago he ordered heaters from Turkey, enough to fill a 40ft container for winter demand. Within days it arrived at Ashdod, but because of delays at the main cargo crossing into Gaza at Karni he did not expect it to reach his store for another month and may miss most of the winter. Six years ago, before the intifada, it cost him 1,500 shekels to bring in a container from Ashdod. Today it costs 15,000 shekels.

Closure of the crossings is at the heart of the latest crisis. "Free movement is the sine qua non for economic growth," warned a recent World Bank report. Israel has failed to keep to an agreement on the crossings negotiated a year ago by the US secretary of state, Condoleezza Rice. Karni crossing has been closed for 86 of the 300 days it was scheduled to stay open, while the Rafah crossing on the Egyptian border has been closed for 120 of 350 scheduled open days, according to the latest UN figures. Israel cites security concerns for the closures.

"We can keep going for the moment," said Mr Saqqa, "but if the situation carries on like this, with internal rivalry between factions, closures, killings, I'm going to start thinking about saving my life and my family's lives by emigrating."

Mr Saqqa is a moderate who wants to see Hamas form a coalition with its rival Fatah in the hope of retrieving the tax revenues Israel still withholds. Yesterday Ismail Haniyeh, the Hamas prime minister, suggested he was ready to step aside if it meant lifting the boycott, although negotiations continually stall. But for all those in Gaza who speak of moderation, there are many more who talk only of defiance and resistance.

On the 10th floor of a tower block in Gaza City, Ala'a Mortaja, 23, a presenter on Radio Alwan, a small, independent station, was asking listeners to call or send in comments on Beit Hanoun. He read out the text messages. "Palestine, you are our home. We were born here and brought up here and we will never forget you," said one. "By our blood we swear we will be martyrs for you," said another. "We will have revenge. We are ready for death in return for freedom. We are competing to be martyrs."

A caller came on air giving his name only as Abu Jihad, and recited the oft-repeated mantras of the militants. "Those martyrs died to keep us alive. Their deaths empower us to believe in resistance, in jihad, in smuggling. I am ready to be a ѕυιcιdє bomber."

"What made you decide that, Abu Jihad?" asked the presenter. "Because the Palestinian people are defeated by injustice and occupation," he shouted back down the phone line. Then his mobile signal faded out of range. The station cut back to Arabic pop music and a little later more news headlines about the deaths in Beit Hanoun.