For nine-year-old Jumaa and his ten-year-old brother Fadi, the promise of peace was supposed to be a shield, not a death sentence. When the two boys ventured out to collect firewood—a chore familiar to millions of children in rural communities across East Africa—their parents believed the danger had passed.

But in a grim reality check that exposes the fragility of international diplomacy, the US-brokered ceasefire declared on October 10 has proven deadly porous. Instead of the promised reprieve, the agreement has created what survivors call a "dangerous illusion" of normalcy. Since the ink dried on the deal, more than 360 Palestinians have been killed, leaving families in Khan Younis to mourn children who died during a time of nominal peace.

A False Dawn in Khan Younis

Hala Abu Assi, the boys' mother, was preparing tea in the family’s tent when the illusion shattered. A missile, fired by an Israeli drone, struck the area where her sons were foraging. By the time she rushed to the scene, the silence of the ceasefire had been replaced by the chaos of loss.

"After the ceasefire was announced, I felt a bit of safety and believed that nothing would harm my children any more," Abu Assi recounted, her voice heavy with the grief of a mother who lowered her guard only to be punished for it. "But fate had another plan."

The incident highlights a disturbing trend verified by UN officials. Despite the diplomatic breakthrough intended to halt the violence:

• Total Casualties: Over 360 Palestinians have been killed since October 10.
• Child Fatalities: At least 70 of the victims were children, similar in age to Jumaa and Fadi.
• Daily Toll: While the average daily death toll has dropped from the horrific highs of 90 per day seen in previous years, the persistence of lethal strikes proves the war is far from over.

Life Behind the ‘Yellow Line’

The violence is compounded by a suffocating geography. Palestinians are currently squeezed into just 42% of their original territory, hemmed in behind Israel’s so-called "yellow line." For a Kenyan reader, this density is akin to compressing the population of a bustling county into less than half its land mass, stripping away the ability to farm, move, or seek genuine safety.

Analysts warn that the term "ceasefire" is becoming a semantic trap. It suggests a return to civil order that simply does not exist on the ground. For mothers like Hala, the geopolitical terminology means nothing against the visceral reality of survival.

"I still hear explosions and gunfire," she said, now solely focused on keeping her two surviving daughters alive in a landscape that offers no quarter. "I do not feel that the war has ended."