More than a month after a ceasefire was declared in Gaza on October 10, 2025, the territory’s streets remain a grim testament to the enduring scars of war. The shattered cityscape—once alive with bustling neighborhoods and children’s laughter—now echoes with danger and uncertainty, as tens of thousands of unexploded Israeli bombs lurk within the ruins, posing a silent and deadly threat, especially to Gaza’s youngest residents.
In the southern neighborhood of Rimal, eight-year-old Mohammed al-Shafi'i’s search for a moment of play ended in tragedy. As he scavenged amid shattered concrete, his laughter was cut short when an unexploded bomb detonated beside him, shattering his leg and hand. His mother, Amal al-Shafei, recounted the horror to The New Arab: “I was filling a bottle with water when the explosion ripped through the air. I ran and found him lying there, covered in blood. Just hours before, he was laughing, building cars from rubble […] and now he may never walk the way he did. How do I explain to him that the world has become deadly?”
Mohammed himself described the moment with heartbreaking clarity: “I was playing… I made a car from a piece of metal… then everything exploded. The ground swallowed me. I can’t run any more. I can’t play. I try to avoid the pieces of metal and balls I see in the rubble… but sometimes, I feel them watching me… like death is waiting.”
Sadly, Mohammed’s story is far from unique. In Gaza City’s northern Zeitoun neighborhood, eleven-year-old Ahmed al-Razi lost his right hand and one eye after mistaking a small metal object for a toy. His mother, Samia al-Razi, told The New Arab that Ahmed was “a joyful child, always inventing games from rubble, cans, and wood. Now, even a pebble terrifies him. His eyes lost part of their light that day, and so did his childhood.” Ahmed added, “I thought it was a toy. I opened it […] Everything turned black. I can’t play, can’t run… even football is dangerous now.”
The threat of unexploded ordnance is not limited to isolated incidents. According to the Gaza Rights Centre and the United Nations Mine Action Service, between 5% and 10% of Israeli weapons fired into Gaza over the past two years have failed to detonate. This has left an estimated 20,000 unexploded munitions—ranging from bombs and missiles to artillery shells—buried across the enclave, weighing roughly 71,000 tons within an estimated 65 to 70 million tons of rubble. The United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) reports that more than 61 million tons of debris now covers Gaza, making every step a potential risk.
The human toll is staggering. The Gaza Health Ministry reports that more than 69,000 people—mostly civilians—have been killed since the Israeli war began on October 7, 2023. In just the past two years, over 64,000 children have either been killed or injured, a figure that underscores the disproportionate impact on Gaza’s youngest and most vulnerable.
Recent events have only highlighted the ongoing peril. On or around November 10, 2025, eight-year-old Joud Ahmad Al Angar and his 12-year-old cousin Zain Nour found a bucket of black pellets in the rubble near their tent in Gaza City. Mistaking it for something useful—perhaps fuel to help their families cook—they brought it back to their shelter. When an adult told them to return it, the container exploded. As reported by NPR, Zain’s father, Mohammad Nour, described the aftermath: “The kids went flying through the air. We found each of them in a different place. I found my son hanging on a fence, bleeding. Both of them had shrapnel lodged in their bodies. And they were covered in dust. My son was crying for me.”
At Gaza City’s Al-Shifa Hospital, the boys were treated for severe injuries amid shortages of painkillers and surgeons—a grim reality faced by many in the besieged territory. “When we arrived to the hospital, it was out of painkillers and there weren’t many doctors to help us,” said Mohammad Nour. “Finally we found some medicine and were able to clean their wounds, but because there aren’t any surgeons left in northern Gaza, we’re waiting for operations to remove the rest of the shrapnel from their bodies.”
The danger is omnipresent. Mahmoud Bassal, spokesperson for Gaza’s civil defense, told The New Arab and NPR that “many of these remnants have been detected inside residential buildings, on roads, and in agricultural areas, making every rescue or clean-up operation a life-threatening task.” He added, “We receive daily calls from citizens reporting unexploded bombs. They’re in buildings, under buildings, on roofs, and on the roads, and these include enormous war missiles, missiles from drones, bombs, the list goes on.”
The risks are compounded by the fact that 90% of bomb disposal experts in Gaza have been killed in Israeli attacks, leaving only a handful of specialists to tackle the monumental task. Mohammed, a local demining expert, explained to The New Arab: “We work in narrow alleyways, near collapsed houses, with children nearby. Each corner could hide a bomb. It is exhausting and mentally draining. Any mistake could cost a life. We lack modern equipment, spare parts, and fuel. We prioritise immediate dangers, leaving large areas unchecked. Children see rubble as a playground, unaware of the invisible threats beneath their feet.”
Nick Orr, chief of operations for the nonprofit Humanity and Inclusion in Gaza, described the challenge to NPR: “We can’t hold a cordon or create an evacuation eclipse inside of Gaza. There’s 2.4 million people. I would need an 800-meter cordon in Gaza City. Can you imagine how that could be achieved right now with all the will in the world? It’s impossible.” He compared the situation to post-World War II Berlin, Paris, and London, where unexploded ordnance is still found decades later. Orr estimates that clearing Gaza’s bombs could take “two to three generations—and probably in the fossil record—with an amount of contamination that’s down there now.”
Efforts to clear the unexploded bombs are further complicated by political and security challenges. A high-ranking official in Gaza’s unexploded ordnance division told NPR that under the U.S.-brokered ceasefire, these bombs are treated as part of the disarmament of Hamas, since some are recycled for use against Israel. As a result, Israel’s military reportedly targets civilians who attempt to handle unexploded ordnance. Egyptian teams have reportedly been allowed to manage cleanup operations, but these efforts are still in their infancy, and the absence of an internal security force to facilitate evacuations makes progress painfully slow.
Meanwhile, the daily reality for Gaza’s civilians remains dire. Families, lacking alternative shelter, continue to live and cook among the ruins, with unexploded bombs scattered all around. For children like Joud and Zain, the lesson is seared into memory. “We are now too scared to go poking around near bombed-out buildings,” Joud told NPR, his face marked by scabs and stitches. “Next time, we will stay far, far away.”
With Gaza’s playgrounds turned into minefields and its future generations at risk, the urgent need for international support and effective clearance operations has never been clearer. The silent menace beneath the rubble is a stark reminder that, for many in Gaza, the war’s end remains heartbreakingly out of reach.
