Handala Meaning: The Story of Naji al-Ali's Barefoot Child

He is ten years old, barefoot, and he has his back to us. Handala has been waiting that way for more than fifty years.

If you have ever seen a small cartoon boy on a wall, a banner or a necklace, hands clasped behind him, hair standing up like spines, you have met Handala. He is one of the most recognized symbols of Palestinian resistance, and he was drawn by one man with a pen.

What Handala means

Handala is a witness. In Naji al-Ali's cartoons he rarely says a word. He stands off to one side of the frame, watching the grief and the absurdity unfold, and his presence changes the picture. Somebody is looking. Somebody will remember.

Everything about him is deliberate. His feet are bare and his clothes are patched, because he is a child of the refugee camps. His hair stands on end, which al-Ali compared to a hedgehog's spines: a boy who will not be tamed. And he is ten years old, the age al-Ali was when his family was driven out of their village in 1948. Al-Ali said Handala would stay ten until he could go home.

Why his back is turned

In the first drawings, Handala faces us. From 1973 he turns away, hands clasped behind him, and he never turns around again.

People read it in different ways. Some see a refusal: of the solutions drawn up for Palestinians without them, and of a world that looked on and did nothing. Others see a child who has seen too much and is waiting, quietly, for something worth turning around for. Either way, it is not indifference. Handala is still watching.

Why a child

Al-Ali could have drawn a fighter, a politician, an old man holding a key. He drew a child. A child is not a side. A child did not choose the quarrel, and has no answer to it except to stand there, barefoot, and be impossible to ignore. It is the hardest figure in the world to argue with.

Where the name comes from

Handhal is the Arabic name for the colocynth, a wild plant with an intensely bitter fruit. Cut it down and it grows back, and its roots run deep. It is hard to imagine a better name for a child who refuses to be uprooted.

The man who drew him

Naji al-Ali was born in the village of al-Shajara, in Galilee. In 1948, still a child, he was forced to leave with his family, and he grew up in the Ain al-Hilweh refugee camp in southern Lebanon. He became a cartoonist, and Handala first appeared in 1969 in the Kuwaiti newspaper al-Siyasa. He went on to draw in Lebanon and, later, in London.

He was fearless. His pen went after the occupation, but also after corruption and after the silence of those who should have spoken, including powerful figures in the Arab world. In July 1987 he was shot in London, and he died of his wounds on 29 August. Handala was still ten, and still waiting.

Why Handala still matters

Handala was never meant to stay in the newspaper. You will find him on walls and banners, on protest signs, tattoos and pendants, carried by people who have never set foot in Palestine and by people who were forced to leave it. For many of them he says what is hard to say out loud: the child is still waiting, and we have not forgotten.

If you would like to carry him with you, we have a Handala necklace and a Handala enamel pin. Every order sends 10% to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF), a charity providing medical care to Palestinian children. You can also explore our Palestine hoodies and Palestinian jewellery.

Handala is one of eight symbols in our guide to Palestinian symbols and their meanings, alongside the flag, the watermelon, the keffiyeh and more.