Leisure ‘Forgotten’: Gaza War Drives Children to Work

Palestinian children break up stones collected from homes destroyed by previous Israeli air strikes, to sell them to make gravestones, in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, 21 August 2024. (EPA)
Palestinian children break up stones collected from homes destroyed by previous Israeli air strikes, to sell them to make gravestones, in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, 21 August 2024. (EPA)
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Leisure ‘Forgotten’: Gaza War Drives Children to Work

Palestinian children break up stones collected from homes destroyed by previous Israeli air strikes, to sell them to make gravestones, in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, 21 August 2024. (EPA)
Palestinian children break up stones collected from homes destroyed by previous Israeli air strikes, to sell them to make gravestones, in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, 21 August 2024. (EPA)

Some crush rocks into gravel, others sell cups of coffee: Palestinian children in Gaza are working to support their families across the war-torn territory, where the World Bank says nearly everyone is now poor.

Every morning at 7:00 am, Ahmad ventures out into the ruins of Khan Younis in southern Gaza, picking through the rubble produced by steady Israeli bombardment.

"We gather debris from destroyed houses, then crush the stones and sell a bucket of gravel for one shekel (around 0.25 euros)," the 12-year-old said, his face tanned by the sun, his hands scratched and cut and his clothes covered in dust.

His customers, he said, are grieving families who use the gravel to erect fragile steles above the graves of their loved ones, many of them buried hastily.

"At the end of the day, we have earned two or three shekels each, which is not even enough for a packet of biscuits," he said.

"There are so many things we dream of but can no longer afford."

The war in Gaza began with Hamas's unprecedented October 7 attack on southern Israel which resulted in the deaths of 1,199 people, most of them civilians, according to an AFP tally based on Israeli official figures.

Israel's retaliatory military campaign has killed at least 40,476 people in Gaza, according to the Hamas-run territory's health ministry, which does not break down civilian and militant deaths.

The UN rights office says most of the dead are women and children.

"Nearly every Gazan is currently poor," the World Bank said in a report released in May.

- 'Barefoot through the rubble' -

Child labor is not a new phenomenon in Gaza, where the United Nations says two-thirds of the population lived in poverty and 45 percent of the workforce was unemployed before the war.

Roughly half of Gaza's population is under 18, and while Palestinian law officially prohibits people under 15 from working, children could regularly be found working in the agriculture and construction sectors before October 7.

The widespread wartime destruction as well as the constant displacement of Gazans trying to stay ahead of Israeli strikes and evacuation orders has made that kind of steady work hard to find.

Khamis, 16, and his younger brother, Sami, 13, instead spend their days walking through potholed streets and displacement camps trying to sell cartons of juice.

"From walking barefoot through the rubble, my brother got an infected leg from a piece of shrapnel," Khamis told AFP.

"He had a fever, spots all over, and we have no medicine to treat him."

Aid workers have repeatedly sounded the alarm about a health system that was struggling before the war and is now unable to cope with an influx of wounded and victims of growing child malnutrition.

- Money gone 'in a minute' -

The paltry sums Khamis and Sami manage to earn do little to defray the costs of survival.

The family spent 300 shekels (around 73 euros) on a donkey-drawn cart when they first fled their home, and later spent 400 shekels on a tent.

At this point the family has relocated nearly 10 times and struggles to afford "a kilo of tomatoes for 25 shekels", Khamis said.

Moatassem, for his part, said he sometimes manages to earn "30 shekels in a day" by selling coffee and dried fruit that he sets out on cardboard on the roadside.

"I spend hours in the sun to collect this money, and we spend it in a minute," the 13-year-old said.

"And some days I only earn 10 shekels while I shout all day to attract customers," he added.

That's a drop in the ocean for daily expenses in a territory where prices for goods like cooking gas and gasoline are soaring.

In these conditions, "we only think about our basic needs, we have forgotten what leisure is, spending for pleasure," Moatassem said.

"I would like to go home and get back to my old life."



Tent Demos Turn West Bank Eviction into Rallying Cry

 Activists confront a settler (left) near the occupied West Bank village of Beit Jala. (AFP)
Activists confront a settler (left) near the occupied West Bank village of Beit Jala. (AFP)
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Tent Demos Turn West Bank Eviction into Rallying Cry

 Activists confront a settler (left) near the occupied West Bank village of Beit Jala. (AFP)
Activists confront a settler (left) near the occupied West Bank village of Beit Jala. (AFP)

Flanked by smartphone-wielding peace activists, members of an evicted Palestinian family marched onto land seized by armed Israeli settlers, shouting "Out! Out!" as they livestreamed the confrontation on Instagram.

After Israeli security forces turned them away, they retreated to their makeshift base: a fast-growing tent encampment for supporters of the family -- the Kisiyas -- that has spotlighted their plight amid widening settler attacks in the Israeli-occupied West Bank.

Violence in the West Bank has surged alongside the war in Gaza, with at least 640 Palestinians killed by Israeli troops and settlers since Hamas's October 7 attack, according to an AFP tally based on Palestinian health ministry figures.

At least 19 Israelis have also died in Palestinian attacks during the same period, according to Israeli officials.

Yet weeks of demonstrations at the tent near the Kisiyas' home in Beit Jala, south of Jerusalem, have made their story stand out, attracting anti-settlement activists, lawmakers, rabbis and Palestinians from other communities facing similar incursions.

The daily gatherings feature meals, prayer, singalongs and lessons on non-violent resistance, usually followed by a caravan to the site to demand that the settlers leave.

During one such encounter on Thursday, Kisiya family members grabbed whatever they could -- mattresses, electrical cables, fruit from a pomegranate tree -- while activists tried to tear down settler-erected fences.

On Friday, 70 Israeli Jews held Shabbat services at the encampment and spent the night there.

It is the kind of show of solidarity that was once more common but has become vanishingly rare during the war, organizers said.

"We will stay here until we get back our land," 30-year-old Alice Kisiya told AFP.

The settlers "took advantage of the war. They thought it would end in silence, but it didn't."

- 'Example to show the world' -

Some details of the Kisiyas' story have helped turn it into a rallying cry.

They are one of the area's few Christian families, and the land's stepped agricultural terraces sit in one of its few accessible green spaces.

Yet Knesset member Aida Touma-Suleiman told AFP that while the mobilization around their struggle might be unusual, the challenges the Kisiyas face are common.

"I wish we can be able to stand near each family like this, but maybe this can be an example to show the world what is happening," she said.

Earlier this month, Israel's far-right Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich announced the approval of a new settlement in the same area of the Kisiya encampment that the United Nations says would encroach on the UNESCO World Heritage site of Battir.

The news drew international outcry, with Washington and the United Nations saying the settlement known as Nahal Heletz would jeopardize the viability of a Palestinian state.

All of Israel's settlements in the West Bank, occupied since 1967, are considered illegal under international law, regardless of whether they have Israeli planning permission.

The Kisiyas have for years been threatened by settlement activity, and in 2019 the civil administration demolished the family's home and restaurant.

The latest run-in occurred on July 31, when settlers from a nearby outpost accompanied by soldiers "raided the land, assaulting members of the Kisiya family and activists trying to force them to leave the area", according to Israeli anti-settlement group Peace Now.

- 'Is it dangerous?' -

The Kisiyas joined with activists to form the encampment just over a week later, although it got off to a slow start.

"I wish there was a camera when we first started. We were just sitting with chairs, had nothing in here. And we were discussing, like, 'What are we doing?'" said Palestinian activist Mai Shahin of Combatants for Peace.

"The first week was really hard," she said, with people, initially hesitant to join the encampment, calling to ask her: "Is it dangerous?"

As it has grown in size, Palestinians from elsewhere have come to see the encampment as a safe space.

"I have a lot of trauma from wearing my own keffiyeh (scarf) and wearing my identity for everyone to see," said Amira Mohammed, 25, of Jerusalem.

In the encampment "we were able to actually be ourselves, wear our keffiyehs, sing our songs in our language with our Israeli counterparts".

But some activists point out that despite the energy in the encampment, the current Israeli government appears set on expanding settlement activity.

"No anti-Israeli and anti-Zionist decision will stop the development of settlements," Smotrich, who himself lives in a settlement, posted on X this month.

"We will continue to fight against the dangerous project of creating a Palestinian state by creating facts on the ground."

Activist Talya Hirsch said such statements leave her with "no hope for this land" and "no vision of a better future".

"But I don't move from this place. I have no hope but I have a high sense of responsibility."