Mohammed Barghout, 47, sits on a plastic chair at the Excellence Cafe in Khan Younis. Beside him, a man takes out a stack of shekels and counts out a few of the banknotes.
The man checks his phone to confirm that Barghout sent a bank transfer of about $100 US (about $144 Cdn, or 360 shekels) before handing over 200 shekels (about $80 Cdn) and explains to his father of four that he is taking a cut of around 30 percent. Barghout shakes the man's hand and they part ways.
These men are called money changers, and they are becoming a way of life in the war-torn environment where most banks are closed or damaged, meaning that many Palestinians struggle to withdraw money from their accounts.
Instead, they have to transfer money digitally to exchangers who provide the equivalent of the transfer after taking a cut for themselves, usually between 25 and 30 percent. The leftovers do not last very long as wartime inflation has greatly increased the price of scarce food and essentials.
“I have a child, one year now. He wants milk, he wants pampers. Also, I have three small children. They need to eat,” Barghout told CBC freelance videographer Mohamed El Saife.
“I lose a lot of money to have money.”
We went with a Palestinian man on a trip to a market in Gaza to see what he could buy with 200 shekels – about $80 Cdn – to provide for his family.
'There's no money'
Ayed Abu Ramadan, chairman of the Gaza Chamber of Commerce, says the banking system in Gaza has completely collapsed.
“We have a problem with the banknotes,” he said. “There is no money. And whatever small amount of money is wasted and ripped off, so people refuse to accept it.”
Although the exchange who met with Barghout declined to be interviewed, another exchange agreed to speak to CBC News.
Saadi Al-Ashqar runs an exchange office in Deir al Balah where he provides the same service, but from a storefront where customers come to him. He says he buys money from other businessmen.
“I … pay the businessman at the highest 30 percent to keep my business and exchange office going.”
He told El Saife that these top businessmen control the flow of money in the Gaza Strip, and the only way money gets in and out is through a digital banking application. affiliated with the Bank of Palestine. People use it to transfer money to Palestinians, who then have to seek out money changers to receive money.
Al-Ashqar says he sees almost 200 people a day looking to withdraw money. But he says that he despises businessmen who take such a big cut of the exchanges.
“Unfortunately those who control this situation are taking advantage of the situation in which we and the citizens live,” he said.
Talks to establish a ceasefire and cessation of hostilities agreement between Israel and Hamas have resumed in Cairo, and sources close to the negotiations say an agreement could be signed in the coming days. Palestinians in southern Gaza say they hope the war will end in this round of talks so that life can start again.
Abu Ramadan, with the chamber of commerce, says the rates charged by exchangers are “a huge burden on the people.”
“It will reduce their purchasing power and make their problems bigger.”
Choosing between food and diapers
With his 200 shekels in hand, Barghout now begins his errands. He is looking for food for his family and diapers for his youngest child.
After the war started, Barghout lost his job as an IT engineer in Gaza City, and he and his family were displaced many times before finding their latest shelter in the UNRWA school in Khan Younis. It is now up to friends and family abroad to send money when they can.
Palestinians in Gaza are largely dependent on humanitarian aid, which Abu Ramadan says does not even cover “20 percent of the population's needs.” And he says shortages have caused prices of food and hygiene products to skyrocket.
Families often have to decide between buying diapers or food.
“You can't eat for one day,” Barghout said of the amount he has to spend at the market in Khan Younis where vendors stand at stalls made up of wooden beams and plastic tarps. behind small tables displaying some fruits and household products.
From time to time, Barghout stops to ask the price of something before walking away.
“It's very expensive to buy anything now,” he said as he made his way to a stall selling individual diapers, which are organized into neat piles by size.
“You can't buy a pack, a pack is very expensive,” he said – a pack of 30 would cost 100 cheques.
Instead, he asks for the price of ten diapers – 30 shekels. So he buys his first day.
A small meal for children
Next is coffee, biscuits, four bananas, two hard-boiled eggs, some fresh mint, some feta cheese, two rolls of toilet paper and a layer of thin rice.
“For my children, everyone will give just one banana. Me and my wife will not take anything, (this) is just for my children,” he said.
After 30 minutes at the market, Barghout is ready for the day. He now has only 17 shekels left in his pocket as he makes his way back to the shelter. The family of six lives in a dark place under the stairs with only one window for sunlight.
His children jump at the sight of him and run to see what he brought, opening the plastic bags as he gives each child a banana.
“It doesn't mean anything,” Barghout said. “You can't make your stomach full.”
As he watches his children go through the food, trying to fill their bellies with bananas, rice and their share of the two eggs, he knows he has to visit an exchange a- again soon to find their next scarce meal.
