Borrowed boots, borrowed joy: Football thrives in Gaza camps
Borrowed boots, borrowed joy: Football thrives in Gaza camps
Borrowed boots borrowed joy - In the heart of the Occupied Palestinian Territory, where the Gaza Strip lies in ruins, football matches organized by a former professional player are offering a fleeting escape from the daily grind of survival. Amid the wreckage of shattered infrastructure and the struggles of displaced families, these games provide a rare spark of hope. Asaad Al-Azzabi, a man who once played for Al-Tajammu Club in Rafah, now finds himself in a completely different reality. His home is a tent in Al-Rahma Camp, one of many makeshift shelters housing those uprooted by conflict. Yet, even in this harsh environment, he continues to bring the game to life.
A Glimpse into Al-Mawasi
Located west of Khan Younis, Al-Mawasi is a landscape of tents, cramped spaces, and long lines for essentials like water and food. Here, Asaad Al-Azzabi prepares for a match that feels worlds apart from his former life. The terrain is far from the polished pitches he once knew, but the spirit of the game remains undimmed. He gathers his players in the early hours, sketching strategies in the sand as they ready themselves for a showdown against a rival team from Sheikh Al-Eid Camp. This is not just a game—it is a lifeline, a way to reclaim a sense of normalcy in a place where normalcy has been stripped away.
Before the war, Al-Azzabi's world was defined by the comforts of a professional football career. He had access to training facilities, coaching, and equipment, all part of a structured environment that nurtured his talent. Now, the luxury of proper footwear is a distant memory. "Sometimes I borrow a pair from a friend or fix them with tape," he says, a humble admission that underscores the stark contrast between past and present. His home, a single tent, is a testament to the resilience of those who remain, though it also reflects the fragility of their situation.
The Weight of Displacement
Al-Rahma Camp, where Al-Azzabi now resides, is one of hundreds of displacement sites across the Gaza Strip. According to UN figures, approximately 1.7 million people are living in these locations, many in conditions that are far from ideal. Clean water is scarce, and sanitation services are a constant battle. Residents rely on trucks to deliver supplies, a process that is often slow and fraught with uncertainty. The war has left the region in disarray, but for Al-Azzabi and others like him, football remains a steadfast anchor.
His family has been scattered by the conflict. His wife and son, who has cancer, left for Jordan in search of better medical care. This separation adds a layer of sorrow to his daily existence, yet the game on the sand offers a temporary reprieve. The players, many of whom have spent hours waiting in line for food or battery charging, come together to celebrate the unifying power of sport. For a few hours, the weight of displacement is momentarily lifted, and the world feels a little smaller.
Football as a Symbol of Resistance
Referee Alaa Abu Taha, a displaced resident of Rafah, encapsulates the role football plays in Gaza. "This is the only way people can express themselves," he says. "With limited resources, we still find a way to play. The field we’re on now was originally meant for basketball, but our people make it work." His words highlight the adaptability of the community, where creativity and determination transform humble spaces into arenas of competition and joy.
The destruction of sports infrastructure has been devastating. The Palestinian Football Association reports that hundreds of athletes have lost their lives, including many players, while numerous facilities—pitches, club headquarters, and training halls—have been reduced to rubble. Yet, the spirit of football endures. In Al-Mawasi, the absence of dedicated sports grounds has not deterred players from organizing a championship between displacement camps. The game, though improvised, holds significance far beyond the scoreline.
As the match begins, a small crowd of displaced spectators gathers to watch. The players, some of whom have walked miles to reach the field, move with purpose, their faces lit by the flicker of determination. Al-Azzabi, dressed in boots held together by plastic tape, steps onto the pitch, his presence a reminder of the resilience of the human spirit. The final whistle sounds, and Al-Rahma Camp secures a 2–1 victory, a hard-earned triumph in a land where victories are few and far between.
A Celebration of Hope
After the match, the air is thick with emotion. Young men from the camp lift Al-Azzabi and his teammates onto their shoulders, a gesture of solidarity that transcends the boundaries of sport. Children scatter through the tents, their laughter a balm to the wounds of displacement. In this moment, the chaos of war fades into the background, replaced by the rhythm of play and the collective joy of participants.
For Al-Azzabi, the game is more than a contest—it is a message to his distant family. "I dedicate this championship to my wife and son in Jordan," he says. "I wish them a speedy recovery." His words carry a deep yearning, a way to stay connected to the loved ones who have been forced to leave. The victory is not just for the team but for the memory of a life once filled with purpose and passion. It is a small act of defiance against despair, a reminder that even in the darkest times, hope can be found in the simplest of ways.
Football in Gaza has become a symbol of resistance, a tool for preserving identity in the face of upheaval. Asaad Al-Azzabi, now a makeshift coach, continues to play, not just for the thrill of the game but for the sake of his community. The boots he wears, borrowed and patched, are more than just equipment—they are a metaphor for the adaptability and perseverance of those who call these camps home. Every match is a testament to the enduring power of sport to unite people, to provide a sense of belonging, and to light a path through the rubble of their lives.
As the sun sets over Al-Mawasi, the echoes of the game linger, a reminder that even in the most challenging circumstances, there is a way to find joy. The makeshift pitch, once a place for basketball and volleyball, now stands as a symbol of resilience. In a world where resources are scarce and hope is fragile, football is a rare gift—a fleeting moment of connection, a shared experience that transcends the pain of displacement. For those who play, it is more than sport; it is a lifeline, a spark of humanity in the midst of chaos.