One man’s death is another man’s bread

Abdullah, a Palestinian refugee, also works in the thrift store where Rino Feys works. Since the bombing of Gaza, he has done everything he can to get his wife away from Rafah. Like more than a million Palestinians, she takes shelter there from Israeli violence. But even in this terrible situation there are bloodhounds who have smelled loot.

II look at Abdullah and notice how gray he is turning. Two years ago, when he started working with us, his hair was still jet black. “Of the problems,” he says when I point it out to him.

He shows me pictures on his phone that a cousin of his sent. I see tent camps, immensely large. People with empty containers and jars in outstretched hands.

“People have their backs against the wall and have nowhere to go, all the while having to be afraid of snipers.”

“Many, many people in my family are dead.” He sighs, stares for a while at his clasped hands on the table in front of him.

‘Everyone is hungry. Sometimes, if something is available, some food is distributed, a small piece of bread per person with which you have to get through the day. But something is better than nothing of course. Yesterday they had to queue for hours for a tomato, that was luxury.’ Fortunately it has rained regularly in recent days. The water is collected in containers so that they still have something to drink. But there is no longer any medication available.

‘People live in fear Rino, they are afraid of the announced missiles. Israel is calling to leave because it is no longer safe, but this is the limit, they cannot go any further. And returning is not an option either, everything has been destroyed, there is nothing to return to. The people have their backs against the wall and can’t go anywhere, while they have to be afraid of snipers all the time and can be shot at from all sides with artillery rockets.’

I see destroyed buildings between which people walk on the streets, ruins from which plumes of smoke rise after a murderous attack.

Problems surrounding family reunification a year and a half ago – the Immigration Department (DVZ) incorrectly mistook the date of issue of a document as the wedding date – turned out to be the beginning of a nightmare that continues to this day and is getting worse. We, the colleagues, followed everything from the front row and felt increasingly involved in his hopeless situation.

For the time being, little has come of his plans to work as a physiotherapist in healthcare. Twenty-four hours a day he worries about how he can get his wife out of there.

The rest of his family is also stuck in terrible conditions in Rafah, but his wife is the only person he can help – if the DVZ still agrees to a family reunification – because she is the only one who is part of his “nuclear family”. He wants to do everything he can to save her from hell. ‘My wife has her period all the time due to stress and malnutrition. She also has infections everywhere.’ The irony of fate is that he could help her as a physiotherapist. He hopes to leave for Cairo within a few days.

His niece’s child, who was born a few weeks ago in a tent camp, is doing reasonably well, considering the circumstances. It is therefore fed with breast milk.

It is important that the mother continues to produce milk, so everyone gives up a little of his or her ration. It’s amazing how much solidarity there is in these terrible circumstances, when at any moment someone on the other side could push the button to send thunder and lightning their way.

Extortionate prices

‘Things can still be obtained on the black market, often from donations that were stolen. But that’s for the happy fewbecause everything is sold at exorbitant prices.’

In the meantime, crowdfunding was started. He has also received or borrowed some money from friends here and there. As soon as the amount with which he can buy Tasnim’s freedom is in sight, he leaves for Egypt. Or maybe even earlier, he is eager to do something.

Prices are rising day by day, and where it used to cost $6,000 to get someone across the border, it has now sometimes even reached $9,000.

There he can negotiate directly with the fixers in Cairo to get Tasnim on “the list”. The people on that list can then cross the border, but it is not easy to register someone.

‘You can’t forget that it is the mafia. These people are only interested in money. So, first of all, I have to be there in person to close the deal, and have someone with influence with me, so that they don’t fork over the money and we are left empty-handed. But I’ve already been able to arrange someone from here, so things are looking OK at the moment.’

One man’s death is another man’s bread: even in this terrible situation there are bloodhounds who have smelled the booty. Prices are rising day by day, and where it used to cost six thousand dollars to get someone across the border, it has now risen to eight and sometimes even nine thousand dollars. So there is no time to lose.

‘In my dreams it really happens. Then she gets to the other side of that border, where we met last year.’

We vividly remember the excitement we experienced when he went to Egypt for two weeks in the spring of 2023, where they could finally embrace each other again after seven years. If he could have foreseen what was coming their way then, he would never have let her go.

‘I have to get her out of there. We have been looking forward to being together again for so long. I fight for our happiness. She has to survive this.”

As we walk to the door together, I realize that this may be the last time I see him before he leaves. “Be careful, Abdullah.” I extend my hand, he returns my handshake and puts his other hand over it. We stay like that for a while.

“Wish me the best of luck, Rino.”