Jono Maryono
In the heart of Gaza City’s bustling al-Rimal market, a scene played out that was both poignant and emblematic of the territory’s profound economic distress. Rania al-Saudi, a mother of two young daughters, stood before a toy stall, her face a mask of bewilderment and mounting despair. The vibrant displays of playthings, usually a beacon of childhood delight, were now symbols of an insurmountable economic barrier. She had promised her daughters dolls to celebrate Eid, a cherished tradition, but the prices, inflated to an unprecedented level, rendered her promise impossible to fulfill.
Her elder daughter, six-year-old Razan, her eyes wide with anticipation, could not comprehend her mother’s distressed expression as Rania inquired about the cost of each toy. With every quoted price, Rania’s voice would catch, her gasp a silent testament to the astronomical sums. "Oh my God, it’s so expensive," she lamented, her voice tinged with disbelief, "This used to be much cheaper." Faced with her daughter’s unwavering insistence, Rania pleaded with the vendor for a concession, but he could only offer a somber apology. He explained that the scarcity of toys entering Gaza, a direct consequence of stringent Israeli import restrictions, made it nearly impossible to procure them at affordable rates. Rania’s predicament was not unique; the toy stall, a focal point of Eid preparations for many, saw a steady stream of parents and children, each met with the same disheartening reality. Not a single purchase was made, a stark illustration of Gaza’s war-ravaged economy, where even the simplest joys are now out of reach.
Rania, a 43-year-old originally from Shujayea in eastern Gaza, has been displaced by the ongoing conflict, forced to seek refuge in the western part of the city. Her pilgrimage to the market was an attempt to salvage some semblance of holiday cheer for her daughters, a mission that proved tragically futile. "The prices are extremely high, and the vendors tell us that toys have not entered Gaza since the start of the war," she shared with a heavy heart. "But what did our children do to deserve this?" Her voice cracked as she recalled the abundance of toys her daughters once possessed in their home, a home now reduced to rubble. She had always ensured they had toys for every occasion, every holiday. "Eid holidays are for children’s joy, and children are happy with toys and entertainment. But our children are deprived of everything."
As Rania spoke, her younger daughter, Lulwa, began to cry, the realization dawning that her longed-for doll would remain an unfulfilled dream. "This doll used to cost no more than 15 shekels ($5) before the war; now it costs 60 shekels ($20)," Rania explained, her frustration palpable. "This is something I cannot afford. Everything is expensive and overpriced." The weight of her inability to provide even basic holiday provisions pressed down on her. The tradition of new Eid clothes, a practice cherished across the Muslim world, was also beyond her means. "My daughters will not be happy this Eid," she stated, her voice filled with resignation. "I wanted to compensate by getting them dolls, but even that is impossible."
The war, which erupted in October 2023, has not only decimated infrastructure and livelihoods but has also severed access to recreational items. The pervasive bombing and displacement have resulted in most children losing their toys, either through destruction, abandonment, or being left behind. Rania noted that her children, like many others in the displacement camps, have had to invent their own forms of play. "All the children in the camp face the same situation, so they spend their time playing simple street games like hopscotch, hide-and-seek, or drawing in the sand," she said. "But my daughters always wished for a doll. I once tried to make one for them, but they didn’t like it." This anecdote underscores the profound emotional impact of the conflict, stripping away not just material possessions but also the simple pleasures that define childhood.
The Scarcity-Driven Price Surge
The exorbitant prices of toys are not a matter of opportunistic profiteering by local vendors, but rather a direct consequence of a severely disrupted supply chain. Anwar al-Huwaity, a toy seller with two decades of experience in Gaza, explained the grim reality of his trade. His stall, a testament to resilience amidst the devastation, operates under immense difficulty. "Before the war, toys were widely available," Anwar recalled. "Today, we go from one trader to another, searching. Sometimes we find toys with someone who had them stored, but they sell it at a very high price, up to three times its normal price."
The primary obstacle is the severe restriction on importing goods into Gaza. Israel’s closure of commercial crossings, particularly Karem Abu Salem (Kerem Shalom), the main artery for goods, has crippled trade. While humanitarian aid is prioritized, non-essential items like toys face significant administrative and security hurdles, effectively rendering their legal entry almost impossible. Consequently, any toys that do reach Gaza often do so through unofficial, perilous routes, in limited quantities, and at exorbitant costs. Anwar revealed that some intermediaries demand as much as 12,000 shekels ($3,870) for a small shipment, with the entire risk of confiscation or destruction falling squarely on the trader. "We buy merchandise at high prices, so we have to sell it at high prices as well," Anwar stated apologetically, a sentiment echoed by many in his profession.
The impact on prices is staggering. Anwar estimates that toys are now up to 300 percent more expensive than pre-war levels. Historically, the holiday season was the main income generator, with sales typically ranging between $6,500 and $10,000. Now, he considers himself fortunate to sell $1,000 worth of stock, with most of these sales being bulk purchases to other traders rather than direct sales to consumers.
Beyond the financial strain on vendors, Anwar finds the emotional toll of his profession particularly challenging. "Many parents can’t buy toys due to the economic situation. People are barely able to secure food," he lamented. His role, once centered on bringing joy, has shifted to witnessing the disappointment of children whose desires are thwarted by circumstances beyond their control. "I have started hating my workday because I know the prices are exorbitant, and when the children and families see the toys, they get upset, especially during the holidays." He described heartbreaking scenes of parents begging for price reductions, often citing the loss of loved ones in the conflict. "They say, ‘This child is an orphan, that child is an orphan… his parents were killed in the war.’ It feels like all children in Gaza have become orphans."
A Chronology of Restrictions and Economic Decline
The current crisis is rooted in a long-standing blockade and a significant escalation of restrictions following the events of October 7, 2023. Israel imposed a comprehensive blockade on Gaza in 2007, severely limiting the movement of people and goods. This blockade was tightened intermittently, leading to severe economic hardship and periodic humanitarian crises, including declared famines in northern Gaza in early 2024.
The outbreak of the current war in October 2023 marked a dramatic intensification of these restrictions. The closure of commercial crossings significantly curtailed the flow of all goods, including those deemed non-essential for survival. While a "ceasefire" was declared in October 2023, and sporadic periods of reduced hostilities have occurred, Israel has continued to heavily restrict the entry of commercial goods, impacting not only immediate necessities but also items contributing to psychological well-being and normalcy, such as toys.
While no explicit law or declaration bans toys from entering Gaza, a confluence of factors—including the prioritization of humanitarian aid, administrative delays, security concerns, and the general economic collapse—has created an environment where the import of recreational items has become practically impossible through official channels. The United Nations has consistently highlighted how these restrictions on commercial goods have exacerbated the scarcity of both essential and non-essential items within Gaza.
Ahmed Ziara, a 24-year-old toy vendor whose stall is situated near Anwar’s, has had to suspend his business periodically due to the war. "Before the war, I worked in major toy exhibitions," Ahmed shared. "Now toys rarely enter, and we often have to smuggle them, sometimes hidden inside clothes or other goods." This clandestine trade is fraught with risk and further inflates prices. Ahmed confirmed that the majority of his stock consists of old inventory, acquired at inflated prices due to scarcity.
The price increases are stark. Popular Eid toys that were once affordable are now selling for three to four times their previous value. A small toy car that cost 40 shekels ($13) last year now commands 150 shekels ($48). A small ball, previously priced at 3 shekels ($1), now costs 30 shekels ($10). Building blocks are nearly impossible to find, and dolls, once a staple of childhood play, now exceed 70 shekels ($22.50).
"Buying from traders is hard, and selling is hard due to the economic situation," Ahmed told Al Jazeera. "Sometimes I have to sell below the expected price just to clear stock, but most of the time we must raise prices due to high costs and difficulty obtaining toys." He expressed a hope for a return to normalcy: "If conditions improve and toys are allowed in normally, prices will return to normal, and children and families will be able to enjoy the holiday as before." Despite the immense challenges, Ahmed, like other vendors, remains driven by a desire to bring some measure of joy to children. "This work is not easy," he mused. "Sometimes I sit alone and tell myself what I am doing is unfair because prices are extremely high. But despite everything, we love to bring joy to children, even for a short time."
The Broader Implications: A Generation Deprived
The inability of parents in Gaza to afford toys for their children this Eid has profound implications beyond mere holiday disappointment. It speaks to a generation being raised amidst severe deprivation, where even the most basic forms of childhood enrichment are systematically denied. The loss of toys, beyond their material value, represents a loss of innocence, a disruption of imaginative play crucial for cognitive and emotional development.
The situation in Gaza highlights the complex interplay between conflict, economic policy, and humanitarian impact. The restrictions on commercial goods, while often framed within security concerns, have a tangible and devastating effect on the daily lives of civilians, particularly vulnerable populations like children. The economic crisis, exacerbated by the war and blockade, has created a cycle of poverty and despair, where families struggle to meet fundamental needs, let alone afford items that contribute to a sense of normalcy and well-being.
The international community’s role in addressing the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, including advocating for the unimpeded entry of all essential and non-essential goods, remains critical. The plight of children like Razan and Lulwa serves as a stark reminder that the cost of conflict extends far beyond immediate casualties, impacting the very fabric of future generations. The simple act of buying a doll, once a gesture of love and celebration, has become an unattainable luxury, a poignant symbol of the enduring struggle for normalcy and joy in a land scarred by war.
