This article was originally published by the Washington Report on Middle East Affairs and is republished with permission.

Palestinian children gather on the ruins of a home destroyed by an Israeli warplane in the Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza. (Wesam Saleh, Maan Images)

The pursuit of knowledge is a sacred duty, an obligation, of every Muslim, male and female alike. It is no accident that "Iqra," the first word in the Qur'an, literally means "read." Not only did Arab and Persian societies develop the disciplines of algebra and higher math, but it was within the Arab world, in the 12th century A.D., that the concept of democracy was first developed (the concept of a republic originated in Greece). Thus education forms a central pillar of Arab society, transcending the three faiths of Islam, Christianity and Judaism shared by a common race. And by the year 2000, Palestine—that simple slice of land so hotly contested—boasted the world's highest per capita concentration of doctoral degrees, ranging from medicine to education.

To Palestinians, education not only provides nourishment to the mind and soul, but its quest and importance underscores all aspects of Palestinian life. Parents daily urge their children to seek knowledge, emphasizing its importance. "Educate yourself and be educated," a father tells his sons and daughters with admirable frequency. For the children of Palestine, the start of each school year represents a bounty of opportunity. Learning and school are anticipated and cherished. In short, the importance of education within Gaza and the occupied territories cannot be overestimated.

Four Sisters

Mahasen, Shadia, Rabia and Islam Al Hessi are four sisters who live in a small home in Gaza's Al Shati refugee camp. Like young girls around the world, they giggle and talk about the upcoming school year with anticipation and excitement. Who will their teacher be? Will they have to sit next to you-know-who again? Might a certain girl might be there this year, too?

Their conversations, sparkling eyes, restless feet and eager anticipation are shared by millions of children around the world awaiting a new school year—except that these students must wait to see if, this year, their school will open at all.

"I don't have a backpack to carry my books in this year," said Mahasen, 12, with some embarrassment. "Baba [Arabic for papa] can't buy the supplies my brothers and sisters need to go to school."

Mahasen's father is one of the 170,000 government employees who have not been paid for six months thanks to the U.S., EU and international boycott of Palestine's democratically elected government.

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Her big brown eyes look up, then away, as she added shyly, "I would really like to have some new clothes and a backpack for school."

Ten-year-old Fatima Tolbeh, barefoot for lack of shoes, told a similar story. "My parents cannot afford new clothes and a book bag for school anymore," she explained.

Book bags, backpacks and uniforms are available in Gaza. The money to pay for them, however, is not. According to shopkeeper Mohammed Masoud, "Nobody is buying. Parents come in and look. So many come in and look, price the backpacks, supplies and uniforms, and leave."

The most humble backpack in Gaza costs about 30 NIS, or $7. But with an entire population without income for over six months, and no electricity, water, sewage and other basic necessities for merchants to run a business, few have even this small amount. Masoud admitted that he often closes the store because it costs too much to keep it open. "Nothing is easy," he stated sadly. "Life gets worse day by day."

Embarrassed by his inability to afford something as simple as clothing and supplies for his five children, taxi driver Abu Al Waled rides out the night between fares because he dreads going home. He knows that as soon as he walks through the door his eldest son will ask again, "Have you got the backpacks yet, Dad?"

Abu Al Waled prefers to wait until his children fall asleep before returning home. He avoids his children rather than face the pain—and shame—of again replying, "no." "This is heavy on me," he said, tears welling in his eyes. Gazing into the taxi's sideview mirror to avoid making eye contact, he continued in a ragged voice, "I can't afford my children's school supplies. I would love to give them something that my parents were not able to give to me when I was their age."

"Palestinian children in the Gaza Strip are living in violence, fear and an atmosphere of worry that is beyond normal," noted Dan Roman, the UNICEF representative in the Palestinian territory, in his latest report. Between Israeli bombings, lack of food, water, security and safety, as well as electricity and basic civilized necessities, school provides Gaza's children the final vestige of normalcy in a life of uncertainty, despair and death.

While the children smile for the camera, someone walking down the streets at night, the sound of soft footsteps falling on broken concrete and dusty ground, can hear them crying in their darkened rooms. The sniffling and muffled sobs of hurt and disappointment are the heartbreaking sounds of children unable to understand why this is happening to them, and where the money to afford their school supplies has gone.

Despite the work of NGOS in Palestine, the needs of Palestinian families remain unfulfilled. Prior to the international community's decision to collectively punish four million Palestinians via an economic boycott, Palestinian laborers depending on work in Israel formed the majority of those living below the poverty line. Today the ranks of the homeless and the poor have been swelled by middle- and upper-class families. Doctors, administrators, engineers, teachers, merchants, factory owners—like the day laborers—now are unable to afford food and basic supplies for their families. After six months of no income, savings are depleted.

"The world must understand. We need to live," says the Al Hessi sisters' grandmother, Umm Raji, 51. "The international community can solve our problems.

"The children are paying for this," she adds, while motioning her grandchildren to lower the noise level a bit. "My grandchildren cannot understand why there is no money and we cannot even afford a simple book bag for each."

Nor are grade school children the only ones suffering. "I have a daughter attending university," Umm Raji continues. "My daughter weeps constantly, she needs appropriate clothes. I can't afford the books, tuition, or any of the costs required for her to continue her education."

According to UNCIEF, "838,000 children are living under very tough situations in the Gaza Strip." Of Gaza's population of 1.4 million, nearly 60 percent are under the age of 18. For Gazans, children are their greatest treasure and hope for the future—and education is their way out.

"Even if we have nothing," El Hessi declares defiantly, "we will never give up the right of our children to go to school. This is a priority. [It is essential to] ending the occupation of our land."

For any Arab, a child's right to an education is sacred. In occupied Palestine, it is everything.

Mohammed Omer reports from the Gaza Strip in occupied Palestine, where he maintains the Web site <http://www.rafahtoday.org>. He can be reached at <gazanews@yahoo.com>.