"We dread nightfall": Voices from Gaza

... The devastation we found in Jabalia is hard to describe: There was nothing left, only rubble. We tried to assess the conditions of health centers. But we visited the first one, and it was flattened. Then the second, the third ... Everything was in ruins and reduced to piles of rubble. It's breathtaking and heartbreaking. Looking at the scale of the destruction, we had no choice but to act quickly.

The biggest challenge was to start setting up medical activities amid the rubble. It took a week to clear up enough rubble with our rented bulldozer, just to set up a temporary structure.

The first week, we parked by the side of the road and began our activities. Later, we were able to set up tents and shelter where patients could wait for their consultations. The weather was freezing, but still hundreds of patients came every day.  

People in Gaza, as well as our teams, are determined to try to rebuild what was lost, despite the unbearable difficulties they face every day. The situation is still very precarious, and we are really worried about the consequences that a blockade of humanitarian aid into Gaza could have. People in Gaza still need an immediate and massive scale-up of humanitarian supplies, and it is unacceptable that an entire population is now once again being prevented from receiving humanitarian aid."

— Sarah Vulstyeke, MSF project coordinator

Read more of Sarah's story >

... I went to the place where we heard the gunfire. I found my mother injured. I asked if she could hear me or if she could speak to me. Then she died in my arms.

I also saw my sister on the ground. She had been shot in the head. My wife, my father, my brother's children, my niece's son, and I were all injured. The quadcopters did not cease anywhere. Moving around was difficult and dangerous. If MSF wanted to deploy and deliver its medical services somewhere, it was very hard and dangerous. Despite that, we were going out and working to provide medical services in areas we could reach."

Watch the video of Edward's story >

Read more of Abed al Hamid's story >

...Three months before the war I got engaged and I was preparing for the wedding. I was happy with all the details of preparing the wedding. Of course, after October 7, I won't be able to do what I dreamed of. But at least I hope to be reunited with my fiancé, because he stayed in the north, and I came to the south. Maybe the thing I wish for most is to see him again. 

We will try to continue our lives on the rubble of the past. Even if it's not the way we imagined it before.  

Maybe this war taught us the value of family, and that we [should] try to spend more time with our family because at any time, we risk losing them. I miss our warm family gatherings over tea and breakfast. We used to watch TV series together in the evening. I also miss my friends in the north. Half of them are still there ... I also miss walking in Gaza’s streets. It was so full of people, with pretty lights. I miss Al-Shifa Hospital, where I used to work. Unfortunately, I won't be able to go back. The memories of the hospital are still stuck in my mind. I spent a lot of time there and wish I could return one day.  

My life stopped on October 7 ... I hope life will continue. I know it's impossible but I'm in denial and can't comprehend what's happening. I used to work at Al-Shifa hospital until it was evacuated. We had to cross the border to the south. Honestly, this was a moment I will never forget. Crossing [into southern Gaza] was scary; I saw bodies on the ground, and there were flies on them. I saw people's clothes on the ground and couldn't tell if they were alive or not. It was humiliating. I felt like there was no turning back from that checkpoint. I feel like I've lost my country and identity."

Read more from MSF staff on what a ceasefire would mean to them >

... Now I am alone with my parents. Between me, [my daughter] Rita, and my wife there are borders and tanks, the army, destruction, and war. Everything is uncertain. My daughter, who is now in Egypt, tells me every day that she misses me, and I tell her every day: God willing, I will come to you soon. But the truth is, I don’t know if I’ll be able to see them again, I don’t even know if I will survive."

Read more of Dr. Safi's story >

... Chaos soon ensued at the hospital. Our team ran to the emergency room to receive those in need of medical care. One of the patients, a 3-year-old, was injured. Her parents were standing right next to her, worried, as she looked directly at me. She was breathing, so she must be okay, I thought. But as I took her bandage off, I realized her entire left thigh was peeled down to the bone."

Read more of Dr. Abdelmoneim's story >

... In my experience, I have never seen a mass casualty event like today. Every corner in the hospital was busy. Every space was occupied by the injured or bodies of the dead. The medical staff were working very hard to save lives. Some patients passed away, unfortunately, because of the type of difficult injuries they had. Both the intensive care unit and the operation theater rooms were [fully] occupied.

Our anesthesiologist went to support the emergency room, and he discovered that his family were among the injured. He lost his nephew, and his daughters were injured. So even our medical staff, while they were working and trying to save patients, were receiving news that their families were among the injured or dead."

Read more of Dr. Mughaiseb's story >

... I stood up to see if my son had come back and I realized he had left his phone at home. I went to the street screaming, ‘Where is my son? Where is my son?’ My family tried to get me back into the house. I screamed so much that I lost my voice.

One hour later, my son arrived home. The sight of fear and terror on his face… I have never seen this on a human being. He was barely able to speak. He said, ‘Dad, people have been blown into pieces! Children, women … why is it like this, Dad?’

I hugged him and cried and cried. For the first time, I felt weak. 

After that, I went to Al-Awda clinic in Deir al-Balah, which is only a few meters away from my home. I saw dozens and dozens of people lying on the ground. Some of them were dead, others injured. One ambulance arrived carrying three people who had been killed and four others who were wounded. My eyes were full of tears.

One of my colleagues called me. His brother had been hit by shrapnel in the back. He told me he was throwing up blood. He kept asking what he should do. But what could I do? There was no ambulance available. I told him to tie a piece of cloth around the wound to pressure the injury, and to pray for him that he stays alive.

Dozens of people were killed. We did not have time to bury them."

Read more of Dr. Maloh's account of the Nuseirat attack >

... Finally in the early afternoon, we entered Al-Aqsa Hospital’s emergency department. I have no idea how many dead there were. We had no time to take a look at the morgue ... It was, as usual, mayhem. But it was compounded mayhem from the last four days: total chaos inside; the entire emergency room, the red zone, the yellow zone, the green zone were completely packed with patients on the floor coming from the bombings in Nuseirat. There were hundreds of patients, and we did whatever we could to stabilize them, give them some IV fluids, put on a splint, bandage, try to refer for surgery for those who would benefit from that. And, thank God we were able to refer a bunch of patients to Nasser Hospital as well as IMC Field Hospital which is not far away from here.

Despite the fact that the place was completely overwhelmed, it did an amazing job. The nurses of the hospital, the Doctors Without Borders nurses and physicians that lent a hand, did an amazing job and continue to do an amazing job as we speak.  

It is not difficult to imagine the horror that we saw. There were children everywhere, there were women, there were men. We had the gamut of war wounds, trauma wounds, from amputations to eviscerations to trauma, to TBIs (traumatic brain injuries), fractures, and obviously, big burns. And so, it was just survival for all of us rolling up our sleeves and putting fluids in people, giving them pain medicine and [sending] them to a place where they could get care.

Unfortunately, the system is so overwhelmed that a lot of patients are staying much longer than they should in this emergency department. Kids completely grey or white from the shock, burnt, screaming for their parents. Many of them are not screaming because they are in shock. Expectant patients mixed in the yellow area. It's just one of those moments when you don't think about the chaos that is happening: there is no system, there is no triage. You roll up your sleeves, you put a ton of stuff in your pockets, and you do the best you can.

Read more of Karin's account from Al-Aqsa Hospital >

Unfortunately, I could not go to work today because I am packing the necessities for me and my children to move to (yet) another place. I am with the rest of my family—around 15 people—who are sheltering here. The situation is so difficult. My sister recently gave birth, and she has a newborn baby. Everyone is very terrified. Where shall we go? We are heading to the so-called ‘safe zone.’ But there is no safe space here after what happened the day before yesterday with the burning of tents. We make the effort to go to the safe spaces they announce, and in the end, they are not safe. We are forced to stay in tents, where we will be exposed to the heat and sand. We have to struggle to find water every day, the basic services that every human being needs to stay alive. The situation is very miserable.

Unfortunately, I could not go to work today because I am packing the necessities for me and my children to move to (yet) another place. I am with the rest of my family—around 15 people—who are sheltering here. The situation is so difficult. My sister recently gave birth, and she has a newborn baby. Everyone is very terrified. Where shall we go? We are heading to the so-called ‘safe zone.’ But there is no safe space here after what happened the day before yesterday with the burning of tents. We make the effort to go to the safe spaces they announce, and in the end, they are not safe. We are forced to stay in tents, where we will be exposed to the heat and sand. We have to struggle to find water every day, the basic services that every human being needs to stay alive. The situation is very miserable.

Listen to Dr. Jaber's voice note >

... At that moment, I felt nothing but pain, horror. I was really out of my mind. After I checked that my kids were okay, I was worried about my family because I am currently living on their roof. I went down there. All the glasses had been broken, but thank God they are all alive and nobody was injured. We left our home for an hour till sunrise so we could see better. When I came back, I saw what happened. Everything was covered with sand and dust. All the windows and doors had been broken.

We lost a lot of things, but at least we are alive. A friend of mine called and asked me if I was fine, but to be honest, I forgot the meaning of fine. Everybody here is just checking on each other [to see] if we are alive. It's not easy anymore to continue at the same level.   

At our home, when we were checking it, I found pieces of human flesh. We found a whole limb belonging to a human and we don't know who he is. When I saw the pieces of flesh on the floor, I cried.

I know that this message means nothing to a lot of people and will change nothing, but I know that if we don't leave now, we will leave in the next airstrike or the next. And to be honest, the ones who die are the ones who are lucky. The ones who live to suffer again and again and again, are the ones who have been cursed and abandoned by all people all around the world. It's not fair and it's not justice.

I don't know how anybody can sleep knowing that our kids are suffering for nothing. We are only civilians. I am a doctor, my husband is a doctor, and we are suffering since day one of this war. I don't know if it's going to end soon. I don't know if we are going to survive the next hour or two. All I know is that the only thing that keeps my mind from falling apart is my faith that God is merciful and won't let us down. Not like what all people around the world did."

Read more >

... One of MSF’s surgeons told me about dressing the wounds of babies who had lost their legs. It stayed with him. Babies who never learned to walk, and never will.

Some of those children have a new acronym written on their file: “WCNSF,” which stands for “wounded child, no surviving family.” 

Nine-year-old Salma* is one of thousands of WCNSFs. She suffered a fractured skull when the house her family was in was shelled. One of her legs was broken; the other had been amputated. We met her in the intensive care unit. She still didn’t know that she was the only one who made it out of the rubble alive. The exhausted staff wanted to let her recover physically first.   

One of the biggest challenges facing hospitals in southern and central Gaza is bed capacity. The beds are needed to treat patients in critical condition, but those who have been stabilized have nowhere to go. Where should we send a patient like Salma? What do we say to her?"

Read more of Marie-Aure's story >

... The number of patients is very high and medical staff have reported difficulties in many areas, whether with the supply of oxygen, electricity, medical equipment, or simply food. All of this makes providing medical care extremely difficult, and they have enormous operating difficulties to overcome. The convoy's 19,000 liters of fuel [over 5,000 gallons] will supply the hospital for barely a week. Around 3,000 liters per day [about 792 gallons] are required for it to be functional. 

This visit was very short as the journey from the south of the Gaza Strip took us a very long time, and we were not allowed to stay there for long. The convoy was supposed to go to the hospital five days earlier, but it was impossible to go then for various reasons. 
 
It was moving to see the surprise of patients, displaced families, and staff at the sight of new people after being holed up in the hospital for weeks by themselves."

Read more of Aurélie's story >

... Prepared to provide as much medical support as possible, the team went to work at Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis. At the time, Nasser had become the largest functioning hospital in Gaza following relentless attacks on Gaza City’s Al-Shifa Hospital in the enclave’s north. But it had twice as many patients as it could handle, and people were setting up tents to shelter from the airstrikes and shelling elsewhere. Some patients have had their homes destroyed and have nowhere to go after being discharged. Many get stuck in the hospital, where at least it’s warm and there is drinking water."

Read more of Dr. Rodriguez's story >

... In the south of Gaza, places are so overcrowded that it feels like you are in a packed football stadium. With so many people using the same few toilets, and with no fuel for pumping the water, I've seen sewage flowing into the streets where vendors are working, where children are playing and splashing in the filthy black water. You can only imagine the impact on people’s health.

Whatever people want to do, they have to plan ahead of time; you must think, plan, and organize—and then you will find out if you are lucky or not. You want to go to the toilet? When and where do you go when there are hundreds of people queueing for one toilet? I don't think I need to go into further details of how people are getting by."

Watch the video and read Ricardo's story >

... We treated a six-year-old female child. She was badly injured, with [an] external fixator [a tool to hold broken bones in place], and there is a big raw area. She was crying, shouting. She was begging for painkillers, for sedation, because she's tired from pain, and she's tired from inability to move her arm.

In most shelters, you will find fleas, you will find all kinds of skin diseases, all kinds of gastrointestinal symptoms. And in one shelter near where I am located, there is hepatitis A spread between people.

It's really hard to treat them because we don't have access to the needed drugs. We don't have access to anything at all. Water and food are not clean. And people are now eating anything they could find, because it's really starvation here.

I don't believe that anything I say will change the picture. My only message [is] that Palestinians have the right to be treated as human beings, have the right to live. Every day, every night I fear for my kids' life, for my life.

And I'm sorry to say that, but after 60 days of war, I'm losing hope, and I am saying that the ones who passed away in the [first] few days were very lucky. They didn't witness two months of terrifying days and nights. I'm seeing my people suffer, and I cannot do anything. This world is not fair."

Read more of Dr. Ruba's story >

... The situation, as I said before, is very bad. We are nearly sure that we are alone now. No one hears us. We want someone to give us the guarantee that they can evacuate the patients. Because we have about 600 patients who need medical care and who need to evacuate."

Watch the video >

... You work 24 hours, but the number of patients is so high you cannot keep up. Though, we keep going. Thousands of people are sheltering at Al-Shifa. People who evacuated from the north or lost their homes in airstrikes flocked to the hospital to try and seek safety. There are people everywhere—no hygiene, no water to drink, no food. They lost their homes. They haven’t been able to bathe for 24 days. It's a health catastrophe.

I come back to the office in the evening to see my kids. I calm them down when they hear the bombing—especially at night. Some days I go to Al-Shifa without sleep after staying up all night calming them down. It's difficult. There are no words to express my feelings."

Read more of Mohammad's story >

Listen to Dr. Obeid explain the surgery on YouTube >>