In the heart of Gaza’s central districts, daily life is stalked by dangers that do not announce themselves. An explosion in a residential area of Al-Nuseirat claimed the life of a young boy after a suspicious object detonated where families live and children play. The blast was not the result of active fighting, but of lethal remnants left behind by a genocidal war that continues to exact a toll long after the bombs fall silent.

This was not an isolated tragedy. Only days earlier, another child was killed in the same neighbourhood under similar circumstances. Such incidents expose a grim reality: neighbourhoods reduced to rubble are now littered with unexploded devices that turn ordinary streets into minefields. Children, drawn by curiosity and unaware of the risks, are among the most vulnerable. For residents, the end of bombardment has not meant safety, but a new phase of fear embedded in the ground beneath their feet.

Local emergency teams have warned repeatedly that any unfamiliar object may conceal deadly force, urging residents to keep their distance and report hazards immediately. Yet warnings alone cannot neutralise what remains scattered across homes, schools and alleyways. Hospitals continue to receive the dead and wounded, some pulled from debris days after strikes, others victims of delayed explosions. Since a truce took effect last October, hundreds have been killed or injured, underscoring how the consequences of a genocidal war persist even in periods labelled as calm.

The call for urgent technical assistance to clear these remnants grows louder with each loss. Without comprehensive clearance and support, civilians are left to navigate a landscape where survival depends as much on luck as caution. In Gaza, the weapons of yesterday continue to decide who lives and who dies today.