It's hard to imagine that someone could be excited about a water pumping station. But if you knew that this pumping station, if functioning, would serve as a barrier between your community and raw sewage then perhaps you would change your mind.

Six months ago this water pumping station opened right next to my home. It's part of a system that serves 60 percent of the population in Gaza. We were pleased to hear this news as we had no other option before but to dump our untreated sewage in wells. As you can imagine, this posed an immense health hazard to all members of the community.

So when the news came that our sewage would be treated and we would no longer have to dump our own waste near to our homes, we breathed a sigh of relief.

The new station receives 30,000-40,000 cubic metres of waste water every day, and it should pump 120 cubic meters an hour through each of six water pumps. But this is Gaza. From the beginning, the station had only three pumps installed instead of the six planned. The closure of Gaza borders since June 2007 by the Israeli government has meant that the essential parts needed to build the remaining three could not come through.

Electricity cuts have been affecting the efficiency of the station. The emergency generator is not functioning well either as it needs maintenance but spare parts are lacking. The limited amount of fuel that is let into Gaza is not enough to run the generator for long hours.

All through the summer, when the station couldn't deal with the amount of sewage, they diverted it to a nearby grove where the community had planted their olive trees and other crops.

If you have seen an olive tree you will know that they are hardy plants and can bear fruit even in the desert. Now, all of the crops in that grove including 100 olive trees have died as a result of the toxic waste that is being pumped into the land.

The sewage continues to flow there until this day. The crops cultivated in this grove used to provide a source of income and food for the neighbourhood. Now it is wasteland.

This station was supposed to be a blessing for the neighborhood. It turned out to be a curse, a health hazard for us all. And we are now facing a public health crisis.

Sewage water is filling the streets of the neighborhood surrounding the station, and flooding the nearby houses - the stench is unbearable.

Tenants in ground floor flats were forced to leave and move to live with neighbors in the higher floors. People have been reduced to using sand to absorb the sewage water in their houses.

The number of children who have been taken ill has increased considerably. Cases of diarrhea are mounting by the day. Even now children continue to play outside amongst the raw sewage - where else can they go?

What disgusts me is that this could all be prevented if the Israelis had just allowed the opening of one checkpoint to let the spare parts and fuel through.

Children started their new term this week even though there is sewage water in the neighborhood schools. As with all the problems brought about by the blockade, we have to continue our daily lives, otherwise we will have nothing left.

When the crisis started some families bought their children a gasoline lamp to study by when electricity was cut. Now that fuel is not available and very expensive, children do their homework and study for their exams in candle light.

To add to the deplorable situation, a friend of mine heard on the news yesterday that the course books for the new term will not reach us for at least another month. They have been stuck at the Israeli checkpoints into Gaza along with spare parts, fuel, food, medical supplies and people who are being prevented to enter what has become a prison for us all.

Someone described the situation to me the other day in exactly these words: "Gaza has been living and breathing through two checkpoints, Rafah and Erez. The goods have been trickling in uncertainly for the last six months. It's like somebody trapped in a closed room or a lift, not getting enough oxygen, and trying to keep breathing slowly until somebody opens the door and saves them."

Breathing slowly, with difficulty, and with unending uncertainty. Who will open that door? How long will we have to wait?

I ask myself and I ask the international community - how can children get a good education in this environment? How can they look to a better future?

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