Why do I spend hours painstakingly repairing banknotes?

In a bustling Gaza City market, a repairman deftly inspects a worn yellow 100 shekel ($30.50; £23.10) note. He straightened it and carefully traced it with pencil to enhance its faded color.

Bala Abu Aoun was supposed to go to university, but instead he eked out a living at a roadside table, taking a small sum of money to keep cash flowing.

Restoring banknotes is a booming new business in Gaza.

Since the deadly Hamas-led attacks on Israel in 2023 and the devastating war that followed, Israel has halted the transfer of banknotes, as well as most other supplies.

Most banks were destroyed in Israeli attacks and many were robbed. Although some branches have reopened since the ceasefire came into effect seven weeks ago, ATMs are still not working.

But people need cash to buy food and essentials. This forces them to turn to informal currency merchants who charge huge commissions to convert digital transfers into cash. It has also triggered a huge increase in the use of e-wallets and remittance apps.

This means that every piece of paper money in existence is more important than ever – no matter how tattered. This is where Barra comes in. “My tools are simple: a ruler, pencil, colored pencils and glue,” he said.

“The ceasefire has not changed the financial situation. All I do now is serve people and help them.”

Gaza’s economic collapse amid two years of intense war has had catastrophic consequences, with a new United Nations report saying more than 2 million of Gaza’s population has been pushed into poverty.

Four out of five people are currently unemployed, according to the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (Unctad), and even those who still have income or savings struggle to access cash.

“It’s pure misery, that’s all,” said Numan Rayhan, who was displaced from Jabalia in northern Gaza and arrived in Gaza City penniless. “There’s a shortage of income, there’s a shortage of money, there’s no cash flow in the banks.”

Early in the war, Israel attacked banks that Israeli officials claimed had links to Hamas. Their coffers were robbed by armed Palestinian gangs, some of which are believed to be Hamas. The Palestinian Monetary Authority (PMA) previously said cash worth around $180m (£136m) was stolen.

Cogat, the Israeli defense agency that controls Gaza crossings, confirmed that Israel has not allowed cash into Gaza in line with the political order “and because Hamas relies on cash to sustain its military activities.”

Zakaria Ajour, a stall owner at another market in Gaza City, said the lack of cash flow “causes problems for both sellers and buyers.” People are no longer willing to accept worn and delicate banknotes at face value, “even if they have small scratches or pieces of tape.

“Some customers come to me just because they want change for transportation and I don’t have any change,” Mr. Ajour continued. “Ten-shekel coins are almost impossible to find, and even if they are, they have virtually no value due to inflation caused by the cash crisis.”

Long queues now form outside the Palestinian Bank in Gaza City, one of nine branches of five banks that have reopened. Customers can only reactivate frozen accounts, open new accounts or log into banking apps.

Asma Radha wanted to set up an account so she could receive money directly from relatives living outside Gaza. “The whole thing was chaos and crowds,” she said. “We woke up at 6:00 in the morning and left the kids in the tent. We left everything and went to the bank.”

In the southern city of Khan Younis, banks were too damaged to reopen and Abu Khalil had just returned from a long trip from central Gaza. After waiting in line for most of the day, he failed to get into the bank there, and the thought of going back again filled him with despair.

The grandfather still receives a monthly salary of about 2,000 shekels ($612; £463) from the Palestinian Authority, but he says almost half of his income goes to paying vendors, or money merchants. “You have to pay. There’s no choice,” he complained.

During the war, in order to adapt to the urgent need for cash, many small merchants who previously provided remittance and exchange services began charging customers high commissions to turn electronic transfers into cash. Sometimes it reaches 50%, although it has declined recently.

One currency merchant, who asked not to be named, told us that market forces determine commission rates. “Our work is directly related to market activity and the entry of goods and aid,” he said. “When goods are flowing in and buying and selling are active, commissions drop significantly, sometimes as low as 20%. But when border crossings are closed, commissions go up.”

Electronic transfers through banking apps (for which shops and stallholders charge a small fee) have become a popular solution for Gazans to buy goods, even small items.

The PMA, the financial regulator, has launched a payments system that allows instant transactions between local bank accounts. The Palestinian Bank offers e-wallets to those without accounts and says there are currently more than 500,000 users in Gaza. These transactions can be completed through text services on any mobile phone without an internet connection or app.

Humanitarian agencies such as UNICEF and the World Food Program are using e-wallets to send financial aid directly to poor families. UNICEF says it has been able to provide cash transfers to about one million people, half of them children, since the beginning of last year. It prioritizes vulnerable children, including amputees and orphans, as well as pregnant or nursing mothers.

“Basically, you can go to the grocery store and your phone acts as a payment card and you can use it to make purchases,” explains UNICEF’s Jonathan Crickx. “This allows for very high traceability of how the funds are actually spent. Based on our observations, 99% of beneficiaries spend it first on food and water, second on hygiene items like soap and third on electricity generation through generators.”

Mr. Crickx said he had witnessed families having to spend about $80 for 2 kilograms (4.4 pounds) of tomatoes and $70 for 5 kilograms (11 pounds) of onions.

Hanan Abu Jahel, a displaced person from Gaza City who lives with her family in a refugee camp in Zawaid, central Gaza, recently received a donation of 1,200 shekels ($367) from UNICEF. She uses it to buy basic supplies like rice, lentils and pasta.

But she said: “My children need vegetables, fruits, meat and eggs. My youngest son really wants eggs but I can’t buy eggs because the prices are still high and I have to feed 12 people.”

US President Donald Trump’s 20-point peace plan promises “an economic development plan to rebuild and revitalize Gaza”, convening “a team of experts who have helped give birth to some of the most prosperous modern miracle cities in the Middle East”.

It envisions new investments and “exciting development ideas” that could “create jobs, opportunity and hope for the Gaza of the future.” But as the U.N. trade body warns the region is experiencing its worst economic crisis on record, there are currently no details on how to start achieving growth and stability.

Back in Gaza City, Baraa Abu al-Aoun held up the banknotes he had been making to the light. Skillfully. More customers waited, lured by his sign promising “highly professional and no tape required” repairs.

While Bala toils, she longs to return to normal life and hopes to find more lucrative work.

“I just want this war to end,” he said. “My hope is to finally feel relieved so I can get a degree to study and work.

“In Gaza, we are just surviving. We are no longer human.”