The only way Palestinians can get cash in Gaza is to use money exchangers — who take a big cut
With banks shut in the enclave, physical money is scarce, and it doesn't stretch far due to wartime inflation
Mohammed Barghout, 47, takes a seat on a plastic chair at the Excellence Cafe in Khan Younis. Next to him, a man takes out a stack of shekels and counts out a few of the banknotes.
The man checks his phone to confirm a bank transfer of about $100 US (about $144 Cdn, or 360 shekels) sent by Barghout was received before handing over 200 shekels (about $80 Cdn) and explaining to the father of four that he's taking a cut of about 30 per cent. Barghout shakes the man's hand and they part ways.
Such men are known as exchangers, and they are becoming a way of life in the war-torn enclave where most banks are closed or damaged, meaning many Palestinians struggle to take cash out of their accounts.
Instead, they're forced to digitally transfer money to exchangers who provide the cash equivalent of the transfer after taking a cut for themselves, usually ranging from 25 to 30 per cent. What's left doesn't stretch very far as wartime inflation has sharply increased the price of scarce food and essentials.
'There's no cash'
"I have a baby, one year now. He wants milk, he wants Pampers. Also, I have three little children. They need to eat," Barghout told CBC freelance videographer Mohamed El Saife.
"I lose a lot of money to have money."
Ayed Abu Ramadan, the chairman of the Gaza Chamber of Commerce, says the banking system in Gaza has completely collapsed.
"We have a problem with the bank notes," he said. "There's no cash. And whatever little quantities of cash are worn out and torn, so people refuse to accept them."
While the exchanger who met with Barghout refused to be interviewed, a different exchanger agreed to speak with CBC News.
Saadi Al-Ashqar runs an exchange office in Deir al Balah where he provides the same service, but from a storefront where clients come to him. He says he buys cash from other businessmen.
"I … pay the businessman at the top 30 per cent to keep my business and my exchange office running."
He told El Saife those top businessmen are controlling cashflow in the Gaza Strip, and the only way money is getting in and out is through a digital banking application tied to the Bank of Palestine. People use it to transfer money to Palestinians, who must then seek out exchangers to receive cash.
Al-Ashqar says he sees close to 200 people a day looking to withdraw cash. But he says he deplores businessmen who take such a large cut of the exchanges.
"Those who control this situation are unfortunately taking advantage of the situation that we and the citizens are living in," he said.
Abu Ramadan, with the chamber of commerce, says the rates exchangers charge "is really a huge burden on the people."
"It decreases their purchasing power and makes their problems bigger."
Choosing between food and diapers
With his 200 shekels in hand, Barghout now begins his errands. He's looking for food for his family and diapers for his youngest child.
After the war began, 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 an UNRWA school in Khan Younis. He now depends on friends and family abroad sending money when they can.
Palestinians in Gaza are more or less reliant on humanitarian assistance, which Abu Ramadan says doesn't even cover "20 per cent of the needs of the population." And he says scarcity has 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," said Barghout of the amount he has to spend at the market in Khan Younis where salesmen at stalls made up of wood beams and plastic tarps stand behind small tables displaying some fruits and household products.
Every once in a while, 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 in neat piles by size.
"You can't buy a packet, a packet is very expensive," he said — a packet of 30 would cost 100 shekels.
Instead, he asks for the price of ten diapers — 30 shekels. So he makes his first purchase of the day.
A meagre meal for his kids
Next is coffee, cookies, four bananas, two hardboiled eggs, some fresh mint, some feta cheese, two rolls of toilet paper and a tinfoil wrap of rice.
"For my children, everyone will take 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 done for the day. He now has just 17 shekels left in his pocket as he makes his way back to the shelter. The family of six is staying in a dark space under the stairs with just one window for sunlight.
His kids jump at the sight of him and run to see what he brought, opening the plastic bags as he hands each child a banana.
"It means nothing," Barghout said. "You cannot make your stomach full."
As he watches his children rummage through the food, trying to fill their bellies with bananas, rice and their portion of the two eggs, he knows he'll have to visit an exchanger again soon to find their next meagre meal.
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With files from Mohamed El Saife