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From within the tented encampment of Al Amal in Gaza’s Khan Younis, the sounds of hammer striking wood ring out. It is not repairs to makeshift homes taking place but the creation of a basic necessity.
Mahmoud Wadi is making sandals for children who otherwise would be squeezing into shoes that don’t fit or reduced to going barefoot. He uses the only available materials: wood and fabric.
As rubble from destroyed and damaged buildings covers the streets, the need for properly fitting shoes is obvious. Children are particularly in need as over the past year, their growing feet have required new shoes. But to buy new sandals in a war zone isn’t easy.
Prices are prohibitive, driven up by the blockade of imports into the strip since Israel’s incursion into Gaza and aerial bombing began in October.
“A pair that used to cost 20 shekels [$5.30] now costs over 200 shekels. People don't have money and many can't even find food.” Mr Wadi told The National.
His sandals, while uncomfortable, have become the only option many can afford. “There’s demand, especially for children, and I sell each pair for about 25 shekels. They’re not perfect but it’s what we have for now,” he said.
Idris Ahmad, a shoe vendor selling in central Gaza’s Nuseirat market after displacement from the north, said prices can’t be lowered. While the Israeli blockade is the main cause of the shortage, there’s also another layer of exploitation, he said.
“Some merchants are hoarding large quantities of shoes and refusing to sell them unless at outrageous prices. We’re then forced to sell at high prices because we buy them at high prices ourselves,” Mr Ahmad said.
Before the war, sparked by a Hamas attack on southern Israel that killed 1,200 and resulted in the kidnap of about 250 more, the cost of sandals was 10 to 60 shekels, depending on quality and size. But today, the cheapest pair costs more than 200 shekels, an unaffordable luxury for most Gazans.
“The solution to this problem is simple,” Mr Ahmad said. “Open the crossings and allow imports, like before the war.” Until then, people such as Mr Wadi continue to do whatever they can to help their communities survive the unrelenting crisis.
The shoe crisis in Gaza is just one example of how the blockade and continuing conflict have pushed everyday life into survival mode, as prices surge and essential goods becoming harder to find.
The struggle for basic necessities such as shoes is a daily challenge for many. Mahmoud Shahin, 43, was displaced from northern Gaza to the south and now resides in Nuseirat with his family of six. Since leaving home at the start of the war, his situation has gone from difficult to dire.
“I left Gaza at the start of the war, displaced with my family. We all left wearing whatever we had on our feet – me in sandals, my wife and daughter in boots, and the kids in sandals like mine. We didn’t expect this situation to last so long, leading to a shoe crisis,” he said.
In the first two months of the war, Mr Shahin and his family fled to Rafah and soon needed more substantial shoes to wear. “I tried looking in the market, but the prices were already rising fast. I bought six pairs of shoes for us for about 500 shekels, even though their normal price would have been no more than 200.”
The pain was only to get worse as the conflict wore on. Those shoes began to fall apart and new pairs were unaffordable. “I had no money left, so I resorted to repairing them, with each repair costing around 10 shekels, depending on the damage,” Mr Shahin said. “But the quality was poor and they quickly fell apart again. We couldn’t keep up with the repair costs.”
His two younger sons, Ibrahim and Mohammed, now spend most of their time barefoot. “Their shoes are beyond repair and there’s nothing affordable or suitable to buy for them”.
The shoe crisis isn’t just affecting people in the south of Gaza.
“In northern Gaza, up until a few months ago, shoes were still available, though at high prices, but people managed to buy for their children,” Warda Subh, 24, said. "However, in recent weeks prices have noticeably spiked and shoes have become scarce in the market. Those who have any are holding on to them more tightly."
Before the war, she regularly bought new shoes and kept up with the latest styles, but since the conflict began, she has only bought shoes once.
“If it weren’t out of necessity, I wouldn’t have bought them at all. Everything I had fell apart, and I needed something just to get by.”
Carpenter Saber Dewas, 39, also used his skills to make his five children makeshift shoes. “I found wood to chop around the campsites and I had my handsaw that I brought with me from the north,” he told The National from Jabalia camp in the north of the enclave.
His children shuffle in the sand in their wooden shoes, uncomfortable but lucky to have some protection.
