The Right to Play: Gaza’s Children Navigate Roller-Skating Under the Shadow of Amputation
by Bader Alzaharna, GA Youth Advocate, Peace Activist and Researcher
Children in Search of Life
For the children of Gaza, escaping from the ravages of war remains an almost impossible task. Day after day, they search for moments of relief from the destruction, whether it be through work or the play they have been completely deprived of. As a result of the prolonged war, Gaza’s children have also been robbed of an education, a benchmark for any society’s advancement. Twelve months into this war, living under the weight of ceaseless bombardment has mentally drained the tens of thousands of children in the Gaza Strip. They seek an exit to breathe, to feel any resemblance of normalcy, and to safeguard whatever remains of their love for life.
Despite these harrowing conditions, children emerge into the streets of Gaza City with determination, driven by their passion for play and a need to distract themselves from the roars of warplanes and the screams of death.
This time, children are wearing roller-skates.
Although every paved surface in Gaza is either partially or fully damaged, they are determined to find a space to play, cheer, and have fun.
The Right to Play, Just Like All Human Rights in Gaza, Under Attack
Article 31 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (1) creates a specific right for “all children to have rest and leisure, to engage in play and recreational activities appropriate to their age and to participate freely in cultural life and the arts.” Playing is an essential human right, and it contributes to the physical, mental, and emotional well-being of children. To foster a child’s creativity and reduce the stress and anxiety wrought by war, playing must be part of an everyday routine.
In Gaza, the right to play, like all fundamental human rights, has been relentlessly under attack.
Even though I am appalled by the destruction of my city, I still have the desire to see its streets, to remember them when they were full of sound and bustling with life. So, I decided to ride my bicycle through the ruins of Gaza and was stunned to see the streets full of children, 6 to 12 years old, roller-skating, competing with joy, and racing. Engulfed in a wave of nostalgia, they made me think of the life that seemed to have been taken away from us, reminding me of our right to live with dignity, to play, and to feel free. I was curious to learn how the children revisited all these concepts and started to roller-skate for life.
I first encountered Salma, an 11-year-old girl who was on the street roller-skating. In a short conversation, she told me how she had become sickened with the monotonous routine at home. She didn’t want to feel stress all the time, she wanted to feel life again. “That’s why I roller-skate. I want to live life anyway”, she said.
I then spoke to Raji, aged 9, whose leg was injured during the war. That did not stop him. With tenacity, he was playing, determined to find relief from the daily bombardment. He told me that he discovered the power of his body while roller-skating, that his injury had taught him about his physical capability and his determination. “I will continue to roller-skate and race, no matter what,” he jovially declared.
Between suffering the horrors of war and embracing life again, some of the children I encountered feel that their only option is to roller-skate, with bicycles priced beyond reach. Through play, they also find a sense of reconnection with their friends.
“Feeling isolated” can be more fatal than war itself.
The psychological effects of violating their right to play are colossal, as their childhood is daily fading away.
The Ghost of Amputation: An Enduring Pain and a New Beginning
Gaza’s children have never faced a harsher reality.
The paradox of finding joy amid the hardships of war leaves children disillusioned, yet somehow still hopeful for a better reality.
Throughout the intractable war, children have suffered from famine, diseases, malnutrition, and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. “I no longer feel I am a kid. My childhood is gone. All I think of is when this war will end. For now, I want to play. I hope I continue to play”, a 12-year-old named Toleen shed some tears as she spoke.
Sometimes, children imagine that playing will also become impossible, and so another nightmare enters their lives. At other times, they fear losing their limbs, leaving them permanently unable to roller skate.
“It is a ghost. I cannot sleep well at night, thinking that I may lose a limb at any time,” one of the roller-skaters, 9- year-old Ali, said. Most of the children I met know a lot of other children who have lost one or both of their legs. Young roller-skaters are all too familiar with the frightening reality of amputation - a preventable procedure, yet an avoidable risk in times of war.
According to a report by Save the Children (2) in January of this year, more than 10 children a day lost a limb in three months of brutal conflict. A UNICEF report(3) found that more than 1,000 Palestinian children had one or both legs amputated between just October and November of 2023. Since then, these numbers have surged due to the escalation of attacks, a lack of medical equipment, and the closure of the Rafah crossing - the only exit for thousands of wounded children to receive medical treatment outside the war-torn enclave. Given the gravity of this situation, doctors have had to make tough decisions to amputate legs or arms, often without anesthesia, to save the lives of these children.
I encountered one child, 10-year-old Omar, who was repeatedly falling while roller-skating. He told me that his leg had been injured and he was worried about the idea of amputation. His time at the hospital had been a harrowing experience for him, living in constant fear that he would lose his leg. “Many of the children in the room were scheduled for amputation. I was scared. I wanted to go back to my neighborhood and roller-skate just like my friends,” he bravely said. He was one of the lucky ones who did not have to undergo an amputation that day.
A Moment of Silence
By chance, I met some of these children after the horrifying news of a young girl who lost her life while roller-skating in Gaza city. The faces of the children were pale, and they told me that they felt petrified to play. “I have the fear of dying while playing,” Omar said. There was a moment of overwhelming silence. We all grieved the loss of the roller-skating girl, who was just playing in a time she needed it the most. Ritaj, one of the roller-skaters, said to everyone that they would continue to play despite everything. Personally, the high morale and spirit of the kids gave me the power and willingness to cling onto life, living and breathing as forcefully as I could.
A Few Lines of Hope
My inspiration to write about this subject stems from the fact that these young skaters are not only determined to continue living despite unspeakable conditions, but they are also eager to play and enjoy their rights.
I stopped my bicycle to encourage the kids to continue playing, emphasizing the significance of what they do.
“Don’t you know how to roller-skate?” One of the kids excitingly asked me. “You are the masters, teach me! And, what’s important now is that you play” I answered.
(1) https://www.ohchr.org/en/instruments-mechanisms/instruments/convention-rights-child
