As the economic infrastructure of the Gaza Strip continues to crumble under the strain of war, blockade, and financial isolation, a new and unexpected trade has emerged on the streets: money repair. With banks destroyed, fresh currency supplies cut off, and ATMs nearly nonexistent, residents are turning to individuals like Ihab al-Hannawi, a 27-year-old entrepreneur, who repairs damaged shekel notes by hand — a profession that didn’t exist before the war.
In a powerful report by The Times UK, the desperate lengths to which Gazans must go to access even small amounts of money are laid bare. Al-Hannawi, seated at a small table in Gaza City, glues together torn and dirty banknotes using tape, rubber erasers, and adhesive — salvaging currency that would otherwise be rejected in local markets. For his services, he charges 2 shekels (around 40p) per note, repairing up to 600 bills a day.
“This paper money has been circulating for nearly two years without replacement,” he told The Times. “When the banks shut down and cash became scarce, paper currency deteriorated. Some can be salvaged and used again, but others can’t.”
Before Israel’s military offensive began in October 2023, Gaza relied heavily on cash, with over 80% of transactions occurring face-to-face. But the war has destroyed all 56 of Gaza’s bank branches, leaving just three partially functioning ATMs for over two million people. The Israeli blockade on new shekel supplies — the currency used in Gaza — has exacerbated the crisis.
The result is a financial system near collapse, where worn-out bills are patched together for use and entire families are plunged into poverty. Suheila Saalak, a grandmother trying to feed her seven grandchildren, described how vendors refused to accept her last frayed 20-shekel note. “Emotionally, I can’t bear it,” she said. “It’s simply impossible.”
In the absence of a functioning banking system, many Gazans have turned to bartering via Facebook, exchanging goods like baby formula for chickpeas. Others rely on money changers, who convert digital balances to cash — often at commissions of 40–45%, according to Samir abu Mudallah, former dean of economics at al-Azhar University.
Even attempts to modernize the system have failed. A digital payment initiative by the Palestine Monetary Authority initially attracted 500,000 users but ultimately collapsed, as vendors refused to accept non-cash payments.
With food, medicine, and fuel in short supply, prices have skyrocketed. A kilo of flour has surged 3,650%, from £8 to £325, while baby formula now costs 170 shekels and diapers fetch up to $100 per pack. “Either way, we’re being crushed,” said Naji Shabat, a displaced father who walked 5km to find someone willing to accept his 50 shekel note.
The aid situation remains dire. Since late May, more than 800 people have died near newly established distribution sites, often guarded by Israeli forces. While 32 aid truckloads enter Gaza daily, and some fuel deliveries have resumed, the UN says it’s far from sufficient to meet basic needs. Power outages remain frequent, and generators are strained amid fuel shortages, driving up prices by over 550%, according to the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics.
On Sunday, the fragility of daily life was underscored again when ten Palestinians, including six children, were killed by an Israeli drone strike while waiting for water. The Israeli military said a “technical error” caused the missile to fall short of its intended target, an alleged Islamic Jihad operative.
With the death toll in Gaza exceeding 58,000 according to Hamas-linked health authorities, and ceasefire talks stalled, experts warn that the humanitarian and economic catastrophe is likely to worsen.
The situation in Gaza today reflects not just the devastation of war, but also the collapse of a functioning economy. In a place where even the currency must be repaired to remain in circulation, survival has become the daily currency — and for many, even that is in dangerously short supply.
