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The IDF’s been playing whack-a-mole in Gaza, popping off three to four suspected Hamassholes a day—lads they clock as operatives rigging explosives near the border like it’s a twisted game of Minecraft.
Hamas? Silent as a tomb. They’re loving this unofficial timeout Israel’s handed them, a de facto cease-fire that’s stretched two weeks with no hostages freed. Gives ‘em time to dig in deeper, fortify the Strip like it’s their own little dystopian fiefdom.
Israel’s sanctions bag? Empty.
Israel’s sanctions bag? Empty.
They’ve yanked back nearly every humanitarian carrot—except letting about 50 banged-up or sniffly Palestinians limp out through Rafah into Egypt daily for a doctor’s note. Security honchos are eyeballing the evacuees to make sure no Hamas bigwigs sneak through dressed as Grandpa Coughs-a-Lot. Still, Jerusalem’s quietly chuffed—every Gazan out is one less headache, even if it’s just a trickle.
Then there’s the political sleight-of-hand they’ve ditched. Energy Minister Eli Cohen strutted out earlier this week, crowing that Israel cut power to Deir al-Balah. Big flex—except it was just a desalination plant’s juice, not Gaza’s lights. Smoke and mirrors, folks.
Water’s still flowing, though—three main pipelines keep chugging, and shuffling displaced folks from al-Mawasi back toward Gaza City’s kept the taps from running dry. Wells and a bit of farming are picking up the slack too. That Deir al-Balah desalination joint, pumping out 15,000 liters (3,960 gallons) a day? Israeli suits shrugged it off—not critical, they say. No one’s dying of thirst just yet.
Cue the UN, though—UNICEF’s sounding the alarm, wailing that Gaza’s water crisis has hit "critical levels," with "only one in 10 people have access to clean drinking water." UNRWA’s piling on, moaning that axing aid after 17 months of war’s putting lives on the line—most of Gaza’s 2.3 million souls lean on handouts to scrape by.
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Bread’s taking a hit too. Abed al-Nasser al-Ajrami, head of Gaza’s Bakery Owners Association, says six of the Strip’s 22 surviving bakeries have gone dark—cooking gas is AWOL. Power’s a bigger mess. Before the war, Israel’s nine lines fed Gaza 120 megawatts a day—enough for four measly hours of juice, topped up by diesel gennies and solar panels. Hamas torched most of that grid, naturally, and siphoned some of those panels to light up their Gaza City bunkers. Classy.
Some solar’s still kicking, and generators are now the main act—fueled by a deal where Israel let 50 fuel and gas trucks roll in daily for six weeks. Hamas has its claws on that stash. "We don’t really know how Hamas distributed this fuel, how much they have left or what it's being used for," a security official admits. "Some international estimates suggest it could last for weeks or even months." Translation: your guess is as good as theirs.
Security types are sizing up Hamas’s cease-fire hustle. "Every day of a cease-fire that Hamas uses to prepare for renewed fighting is like a month of preparation for us," one grumbles. "Its control over civilian life is growing, with Ramadan meals funded by institutions like the Bank of Palestine, which serves as Hamas’s financial clearinghouse in Gaza. We shut down the border crossings but we didn’t destroy its stockpiles." So, Hamas is playing chef while Israel’s stuck playing border cop. Sounds about right.
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Then there’s the political sleight-of-hand they’ve ditched. Energy Minister Eli Cohen strutted out earlier this week, crowing that Israel cut power to Deir al-Balah. Big flex—except it was just a desalination plant’s juice, not Gaza’s lights. Smoke and mirrors, folks.
Water’s still flowing, though—three main pipelines keep chugging, and shuffling displaced folks from al-Mawasi back toward Gaza City’s kept the taps from running dry. Wells and a bit of farming are picking up the slack too. That Deir al-Balah desalination joint, pumping out 15,000 liters (3,960 gallons) a day? Israeli suits shrugged it off—not critical, they say. No one’s dying of thirst just yet.
Cue the UN, though—UNICEF’s sounding the alarm, wailing that Gaza’s water crisis has hit "critical levels," with "only one in 10 people have access to clean drinking water." UNRWA’s piling on, moaning that axing aid after 17 months of war’s putting lives on the line—most of Gaza’s 2.3 million souls lean on handouts to scrape by.
If you would like to support my work, you can Buy Me A Coffee or subscribe. Thank you.
Bread’s taking a hit too. Abed al-Nasser al-Ajrami, head of Gaza’s Bakery Owners Association, says six of the Strip’s 22 surviving bakeries have gone dark—cooking gas is AWOL. Power’s a bigger mess. Before the war, Israel’s nine lines fed Gaza 120 megawatts a day—enough for four measly hours of juice, topped up by diesel gennies and solar panels. Hamas torched most of that grid, naturally, and siphoned some of those panels to light up their Gaza City bunkers. Classy.
Some solar’s still kicking, and generators are now the main act—fueled by a deal where Israel let 50 fuel and gas trucks roll in daily for six weeks. Hamas has its claws on that stash. "We don’t really know how Hamas distributed this fuel, how much they have left or what it's being used for," a security official admits. "Some international estimates suggest it could last for weeks or even months." Translation: your guess is as good as theirs.
Security types are sizing up Hamas’s cease-fire hustle. "Every day of a cease-fire that Hamas uses to prepare for renewed fighting is like a month of preparation for us," one grumbles. "Its control over civilian life is growing, with Ramadan meals funded by institutions like the Bank of Palestine, which serves as Hamas’s financial clearinghouse in Gaza. We shut down the border crossings but we didn’t destroy its stockpiles." So, Hamas is playing chef while Israel’s stuck playing border cop. Sounds about right.
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