Rafiq Maliha, Project Manager at the Gaza Power Generation Company (GPGC) heaves a heavy sigh before beginning his description of the current situation at the Gaza Power Plant. Apparently he’s been over this quite a few times already.

Maliha, who holds a Doctorate in Mechanical Engineering from the Middle East Technical University in Turkey, has worked in various positions in the electricity sector in Gaza over the past 14 years.

“Originally, the Gaza Power Plant was designed with an output capacity of 140 megawatts of electricity,” he explains. “Throughout its years of operation, the plant’s maximum output level was 118 megawatts. That was in 2006, just before Israel bombed the power plant and destroyed all six transformers”. 

Since then the damage has been partially repaired, but another problem has arisen: Since November 2007, Israel has restricted the transfer of industrial diesel to the Gaza Strip. This diesel can only be used to operate a power plant and it is paid for by the European Union. Thus, a power plant that requires 3.5 million liters per week has been forced to operate on 2.2 million liters per week – 63% of the necessary amount. This causes power outages lasting 6-8 hours, four days a week, with which Palestinian residents of the Gaza Strip must contend.

 “Throughout the month of Ramadan we worked differently,” explains Maliha. “Since it was very hot and the peak consumption and shortage hours were in the evening – due mostly to cooking – we used up reserves of industrial diesel which we accumulated beforehand in order to ease the impact of the shortage on the residents”.

Immediately after the conclusion of the month-long festival, he explained, the power plant was forced to return to its previous level of operation, due to a supply of industrial diesel sufficient to generate only 55-60 megawatts of electricity.

 “What do I need most?” he asks rhetorically, “I need fuel. And also spare parts. We have no other alternative”.

How does he view the future? “It’s hard to look ahead and make plans. Even if we had a plan, we wouldn’t be able to carry it out due to the restrictions. It’s a complicated situation. Right now we are just taking things one week at a time”.

Residents of Gaza this week are celebrating Eid el-Fitr, the holiday marking the conclusion of the month of Ramadan. During this festival, it is customary to eat lots of sweets. However, this year, once again, the closure imposed on the Gaza Strip by Israel for the past 27 months, includes a prohibition on importing chocolate and other sweets. Why ban chocolate? Because Israel considers chocolate, along with the majority of the other consumer goods that were once sold in Gaza, as “beyond what is essential for the basic existence of the population.” Israel has a point. It is possible to exist without chocolate. But isn’t it a shame?

Despite the repeated requests of the Palestinian Coordination Committee, which is in charge of sending requests to Israeli security officials controlling the border crossings, Israel has stood firm its refusal to allow chocolate and other sweets into Gaza for the holiday. Requests that products such as jam, sesame seeds, and halva be allowed in have been rejected time and again. Each time the Committee tries to include them on a faxed list of requested items – Israeli security officials call, ask them to cross them off the list and re-send the fax.

Lacking any other way to stock their shelves, Gaza shopkeepers must rely on goods that arrive via the tunnels. Naturally by the time the chocolate completes its journey to the store it is crumbled, melted and misshapen due to the intense heat of the tunnels.  Often, it arrives mixed with sand. And it costs a small fortune. Muhammad Rasmi, a Gaza shopkeeper, says that a shopkeeper’s profit from goods that come through the tunnels is very small due to the many middlemen whose hands it passes on its way to the store. Rowanda chocolate, for example, costs 21 Egyptian Pounds in Egypt, equivalent to NIS 14, but a shopkeeper in Gaza buys it for NIS 57 and sells it for NIS 60. Along the way, the Egyptian merchant, the tunnel owner, the driver, and the trader who buys it from the tunnel owner all take their cut. This means that the price of a kilo of chocolate, which before the closure cost no more than NIS 40, and was of far superior quality – has shot up by 150% or more for a population of whom 70% are living below the poverty line.

 “In light of this situation – where the shops are not earning and there are no good-quality sweets, the customers are not rushing to buy and there is no demand for sweets – I don’t feel the holiday spirit that we used to feel before the closure,” says Rasmi. 

For Palestinians living in Gaza, and for many people in Israel, there will be plenty of time over the holiday to try and figure out exactly how banning chocolate promotes the security of the State of Israel.