The Stolen Childhood of Palestinian Children

Every day, I leave my home in the early morning to work. I head to a school belonging to UNRWA in the Nuseirat refugee camp, which shelters thousands of displaced people. I continue working inside the school until the evening hours. I earn some money, never more than 20 Israeli shekels per day. I give the money to my father, who lost his job during the war, to help my family with household expenses and to provide some food for my 12 siblings. This has been my daily life since the beginning of the Israeli war on Gaza.

I live with my brothers and sisters in a simple house in the Nuseirat camp, in the middle of the Gaza Strip. I have 3 sisters, and the rest are boys. I am the oldest among my siblings. I study in the seventh preparatory grade, and my academic average is 75%. I have been working for years during summer vacations, holidays, and special occasions to help my father because his salary is not enough to meet the needs of our large family.

My father worked in a sweets factory in Gaza City called Abu Al-Saud Sweets Factory, one of the most famous sweets factories in the Gaza Strip. It is located south of the Al-Shifa Medical Complex, where my father worked for several years. But since the first day of the Israeli occupation's war on the Gaza Strip, my father lost his job.

My father was unable to go to work in the early days of the war due to the intense Israeli bombardment. After the occupation began its ground assault on the Gaza Strip at the end of October 2023, it separated the north of the Gaza Strip from the south. This completely prevented my father from accessing his workplace.

After the occupation invaded Gaza City and reached the Al-Shifa Medical Complex, the occupation warplanes bombed the sweets factory where my father worked, destroying it and depriving my father of his job. The bombing also deprived dozens of my father's colleagues of work, and they all became unemployed. There is a 70% unemployment rate among youth in the Gaza Strip.

I've owned trampolines since before the war. I used to rent them out during events and summer vacations. But since the early days of the war, after my father lost his job, I started my simple trampoline business at Al-Jaouni school in the middle of the Nuseirat Camp, which is a school affiliated with UNRWA. The school is crowded with thousands of displaced people.

I go to the school every day. Children play on the trampolines for a few minutes in exchange for one Israeli shekel. I spend over 12 hours at school. On many days, I don't even make 5 shekels because the displaced people don't have money. They lost their jobs, homes, and providers. They rely entirely on aid.

I'm afraid to put the trampolines outside the school's sheltered areas because Israeli bombardment is everywhere. Even the school where I work was bombed twice by the occupation forces. Many martyrs and wounded from the displaced were there. But God saved me from the bombing both times.

The first time the school I work in was bombed, I was standing by the school's gate and the occupation bombed the schoolyard. During the second bombing, I was going to repair the trampoline. The bombing happened very close to where I usually place the trampoline. But God saved me. I fear that I will be killed by the occupation's missiles or injured and disabled. I see hundreds of wounded and injured every day in shelters. 

During last Eid al-Fitr, several youth groups organized a "Holiday Joy" event for displaced children at the school. I joined them in entertaining the children and let them play on the trampoline for free. I was happy to bring joy to the faces of displaced children. Although I need money to help my family, I was extremely happy with the beautiful humanitarian work I had done.

Trampolines constantly need repairs. They have numerous iron assemblies and fabric pieces for children to jump on. The iron gets broken, and the fabric tears. Before the war, I used to repair them for a small amount, but now, repairing them has become very costly.

I used to weld several iron pieces for 10 Israeli shekels before the war, but during the war, welding one piece costs 20 shekels. I also need to sew the fabric at the tailor's shop, but there's no electricity in Gaza since the first day of the war. This forced me to learn hand sewing and sew them myself, but not with the quality that a sewing machine would provide.

During the invasion of the occupation forces into the central camps of the Gaza Strip at the beginning of January 2024, we fled to the city of Deir al-Balah to escape the Israeli shelling. I left the trampolines at the school and left with my family in search of safety. We stayed in tents for over three weeks, then returned to our home, which was heavily damaged by the Israeli shelling that hit large areas in the camp.

My cousin, Akram Saeed Al-Halabi, 18 years old, fled the Israeli missiles. While walking on Salah al-Din Street heading to Rafah, the occupation aircraft bombed him, and he was martyred instantly. He was buried without us being able to bid him farewell. After the occupation forces withdrew, we dug up his grave to confirm his identity and his body. After confirming, we reburied him away from our homes in Khan Yunis near the tents of the displaced people.

The occupation bulldozers destroyed my uncles' houses during their incursion into Bureij camp. The occupation also bombed and destroyed my uncle's house on Salah al-Din Street. Our house was significantly damaged, like all the houses in Gaza. We walk daily among the rubble, living amidst the ruins, bidding farewell to our loved ones and relatives every day. We lost a lot in this war.

I continue to work while studying because I dream of completing my university education when I grow up to get a job in the future to help my family with its expenses and secure my future and my family's life. I now feel tired and exhausted, and I hope to rest from this fatigue when I grow up, and that my future will be better than my father's future, which was destroyed by the occupation.

My dream was to complete my education when I grow up, but the occupation destroyed dozens of universities and schools, and dozens of schools turned into shelters for hundreds of thousands of displaced people who lost their homes. We lost a school year from our lives, and the occupation completely ruined our lives, but I will continue to work hard to achieve my dream.

My father dreams of rebuilding our house and maintaining a beautiful life for us, but my father is now unemployed, and the occupation completely destroyed his workplace. The responsibility now falls on me and my siblings to help our family overcome this difficult situation. I hope we can build our house and that I can contribute to providing a decent life for my younger siblings.

I often think of my martyred cousin and many of my neighbors and friends who are martyrs, and I imagine myself being targeted by the bombing soon. I could be the next martyr. I am very afraid of the sounds of shelling and gunfire, but we have become accustomed to hearing them in the eighth month of the war. I dream that the war will stop, and people will return to their homes, and we will return to our schools, complete our education, and end all this suffering imposed by the occupation on us. I dream that we will return to our lives, and that my father will be able to find suitable work, and that smiles will return to all the children of Gaza.