Narrator: This pottery factory has survived six decades
of war and conflict.
At one point, there were nearly 40 workshops like this one
in the Gaza Strip.
But now, only a handful are left.
Narrator: But owner Sabri Atallah says Israeli airstrikes
in May were the worst he's ever lived through.
Narrator: But the Atallah family is determined
to save the art they have practiced for three generations.
We went to Gaza to see how this business is still standing.
The dry soil they use as a base comes
from the eastern parts of Gaza.
It turns into mud in the washtub,
where workers mix it with water.
Then they filter it
to get rid of impurities like small rocks.
It takes about two days of drying
for the soup of water and mud to turn into clay.
Narrator: The machines smooths and molds the clay into chunks.
The Atallah family runs two factories next to each other.
Sabri's shop is the largest,
and has been around since the 1960s.
Sabri's nephew, Mostafa Mahmoud Atallah,
learned the craft when he was 8 years old.
Today, he helps his father run their own shop
next to Sabri's.
Narrator: He's making a clay pot called qedra.
It's used to cook a Palestinian dish of meat and rice,
also called qedra, that's popular during Ramadan
and holidays like Eid al-Adha,
and that's the busiest time for the business.
But this Ramadan was different.
Gaza and neighboring Israel traded deadly rocket fire
and devastating airstrikes in early May.
Hundreds of people were killed in Gaza and 13 in Israel —
the latest chapter in a long history of occupation and war.
Narrator: Sabri was forced to close up shop.
While shelling was still going on outside,
Sabri's sons came to salvage the inventory
they'd prepared to sell during Ramadan.
Narrator: By the end of the 11-day war,
more than 450 buildings were damaged or destroyed
in an area roughly the size of Detroit.
Narrator: No one in Sabri's family died this time,
but he says he lost a quarter of his inventory
because of the vibrations from nearby explosions.
He restarted production shortly after the ceasefire.
Narrator: But the holiday of Eid al-Adha
was just two months away in July,
so Sabri couldn't afford to take a break.
His father taught him the craft
when he opened the store in the 1960s.
Today, Sabri designs the artwork himself.
Narrator: Smaller terra-cotta pots meant for salad
are another best seller during this time.
Before the Israeli blockade,
Sabri used to sell 300 of these pots every day.
Now he can't even sell that in one year.
Everything changed when Hamas won the election in 2006.
Israel and Egypt consider it a terrorist group
and put strict rules in place
limiting what goods could come in and out of Gaza.
Israel says the blockade is necessary for security reasons,
but Palestinians say it amounts
to collective punishment of everyone in Gaza.
Sabri's business plummeted.
Narrator: In a place where nearly 60% of people live in poverty,
traditional handmade ceramicware just can't compete
with cheap metal pots and plastic bowls.
He's had to let go of all of his employees.
Now he keeps things going with just his family.
To cut costs, he fires the clay in wood-powered furnaces.
Narrator: But this ancient technique produces a lot of smoke,
and neighbors have been complaining.
Narrator: In early 2021,
the municipality made it illegal to run the kiln.
Still, he's determined not to give up
until the next generation of Atallahs can take over.
Narrator: And his nephew Mostafa feels the same way.