In Gaza, Palestinians see fruits of labor die

Greenhouses promised a key source of income

By Rafael D. Frankel, GLOBE CORRESPONDENT

NETZER HAZANI, Gaza Strip — In the stifling heat of a former Israeli greenhouse where he had worked for the past six months, Hattem Samar uprooted a robust pepper plant in preparation for shutting down this once-promising enterprise—possibly for good.

‘‘Everyone here feels awful,’’ said Samar, 27, shaking sand from the peppers’
roots. ‘‘If it ends like this, it will be really terrible.’’

For Palestinians, the greenhouses were to be the shining light of a new Gaza free of Israel’s hand. Instead, they are another example of how even the best intentions can be derailed by a seemingly relentless conflict.

In the final days of Israel’s withdrawal from the Gaza Strip last August, a group of American philanthropists — mostly Jews — bought the greenhouses scattered throughout the former Jewish towns from the departing settlers for $14 million. They donated the greenhouses and the 790 acres of sand dunes the settlers had turned into fertile farm land to the 1.3 million Palestinians of Gaza.

In what was billed as a national rehabilitation project, the publicly owned Palestinian Economic Development Corp., or PEDC, poured $20 million into renovating the greenhouses. They hired 6,000 workers from around Gaza, more than twice the number the Jewish farmers employed during their tenure here.

In addition to providing needed jobs for Gaza’s moribund economy, the greenhouses brought potential for high revenue streams. Bassil Jabir, the director of the PEDC, estimated that exports from the greenhouse produce should have brought in around $16 million this growing season, which runs from November to May, and eventually as much as $50 million per year.

Their success in growing the produce was unmitigated. Despite widespread looting after the Israeli Army’s withdrawal in September, occasional attacks from Palestinian militant groups seeking to claim territory, and the challenge of managing their own crops for the first time, the Palestinians produced more than 12,000 tons this season of what one Israeli exporter who tested the fruit and vegetables called ‘‘very high-quality’’ produce.

But during the height of the harvest, from January until now, Israel frequently closed the main cargo crossing between Israel and the Gaza Strip because of what it said were continuous security threats from Palestinian terrorists. In April, for example, two cars of gunmen attacked the Karni-crossing terminal before they were thwarted by Palestinian security forces.

The result of Karni’s closure, Jabir said, is that only 1,500 tons of produce made it out of Gaza during this season.

‘‘We understand the importance of Karni, but unfortunately terrorists are trying to use the crossing to attack the Israeli people and in the end they are hurting their own people,’’ said a spokesman for Israel’s Civil Administration, which oversees Israeli activities in the Palestinian Territories. ‘‘We are trying our best to keep Karni open, but we cannot do that at the expense of our people there.’’

Rather than exporting the produce to Europe, as was the plan, the Palestinians were forced to give away some of the cherry tomatoes, sweet peppers, hot peppers, and strawberries to charity groups.

Most, however, was dumped in the surrounding sand dunes. (The PEDC made good on a pledge not to sell their produce in the Gaza markets, undercutting other growers here.)

‘‘All we needed was a crossing or a port we controlled by ourselves, and we could have sold all this to the world and brought in so much money,’’ said Tesir Farraj, 47, a father of 10 from Gaza City who worked in the greenhouses here.

‘‘I blame everyone and condemn everyone who prevented me from making this business,’’ Jabir said.

The fate of the greenhouses is unclear. With a first season revenue of less than $1 million, when at least $16 million was anticipated, the PEDC has no money to pay its workers for April and May and recently sent a letter to all the remaining farmers and engineers that the project will be terminated at the end of May.

Palestinians, though, were not the only losers in the greenhouse endeavor.

After meeting Jabir in November, Avi Kadan, the managing director of the Israeli export firm Adafresh, agreed to send the first season of fruits and vegetables produced by the PEDC to Europe. Although Adafresh’s financial deficit amounted to a relatively small amount of $118,000 spent on unused packaging, Kadan bemoaned the loss of millions of dollars for his company not to mention the hundreds of lost hours on the project.

‘‘I blame myself that I’m living here [in Israel],’’ Kadan said, when asked who he thought was at fault for the failure of the project. ‘‘It’s very difficult to make regular, normal business between two countries that are at war with each other.’’

According to Jabir, the project is finished unless circumstances change drastically.

Kadan is willing to try again next season despite the ‘‘disaster’’ of this one. ‘‘Why not? I plan to help the people there, I want to work with them,’’ Kadan said. ‘‘At the end of the day, I think I’ll succeed.’’

Meanwhile, Palestinian workers who have not already left their work at the greenhouses are closing up shop for the season, if not for good.

‘‘We spent all day and night here building this,’’ said Eid Siam, 28, the chief engineer for the 150 acres of greenhouses in this former Jewish settlement. He added that in the first week after the Israelis left Gaza, he and many of the workers slept here. ‘‘We were so tired, but we kept on going because we wanted the project to succeed.’’

But more disheartening, said Hattem Samar, taking a break from pulling out the pepper plants, is the stark reality the workers now face of finding employment in Gaza’s swiftly contracting economy.

‘‘No one knows what will happen, or what we’ll do,’’ Samar said, adding that he was the only one of eight people in his home who had work. ‘‘The situation is bad for everyone.’’

With those words, he turned and continued destroying the fruits of his labor.

©2006 The Boston Globe