Gaza needs to be inundated with shipments of food, water, medicine and fuel to begin the lengthy road to recovery, writes a doctor from Oak Lawn who recently worked in Gaza.
Opinion
By Thaer Ahmad, M.D.
Mar 20, 2024
Children walk past the rubble of a collapsed building with a pot of food provided by a charity organization ahead of the fast-breaking “iftar” meal during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. They’re shown March 16 in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip.
Said Khatib/AFP via Getty
In January, I joined the WHO’s Emergency Medical Teams deployed to Gaza as a member of MedGlobal. I worked in Gaza’s largest remaining hospital, Al-Nasser in Khan Younis.
As I roamed the hospital’s corridors, I was struck by how many displaced people were sheltering in and around the hospital complex. Many were children running and playing "Ring Around the Rosie." It seemed hauntingly out of place against the grim backdrop of bombs and tank shells.
I can’t help but reflect on the suffering and disorder the children of Gaza have encountered during this war.
One evening, as I wandered through the pediatric division, the nurse accompanying me, Shehab, showed me the patient rooms. Many were suffering from upper respiratory infections or diarrheal illnesses. Each room, no bigger than the size of a walk-in closet, had four patients and their caretakers in it, except one room. It had only three patients. The room corner adjacent to the window where the fourth patient would be was empty and the walls were damaged.
Shehab told me the space had belonged to Dunia Abu Mohsen, a 12-year-old who was recovering in the hospital after an airstrike hit her home and killed her family. Dunia had lost her leg in the attack but miraculously survived and awaited a transfer out of Gaza to be fitted for a prosthesis. She dreamed of one day becoming a physician.
Two weeks after being interviewed chronicling her recovery, an Israeli tank shell burst through the window of Dunia’s room and killed her. She is one of more than 12,000 Gazan children killed. Her nurse told me in her last days, Dunia had grown increasingly withdrawn and detached. She had begun to feel the absence of her family.
No one in Gaza has it easy, but for Palestinian children all aspects of life are disrupted and broken. There has been no schooling since the war started, and 75% of the educational infrastructure has been destroyed or damaged.
Palestinian society greatly values education and boasts some of the highest literacy rates globally. Six hundred thousand displaced children are in Rafah, which had a population of 250,000 before Oct. 7. An entire cohort is trapped in the southern edge of Gaza, with schooling stalled. If they survive the war, their futures are inevitably compromised.
Children die of hunger
As food and water are logjammed at the border with Egypt, the rise of extreme hunger and starvation particularly affects vulnerable populations like children.
In Northern Gaza, where there is a looming famine, more than 20 children have starved to death. After the flour massacre, in which Israeli tanks killed more than 100 Palestinians seeking bread for their hungry families, I tremble at the thought of more starving children dying.
In January, UNICEF found one in six children younger than 2 in Northern Gaza were severely malnourished and in need of urgent treatment. While in Khan Younis, our diets mainly consisted of bread and beans. Food poverty must be addressed.
My interactions with Gazan families confirmed the astounding resilience and steadfastness they were known for, but more than five months of immense death and destruction will leave a mark on even the strongest of us.
Many in Gaza believe there is a “war after the war,” referring to a time when everyone will have to process all that has transpired. Surely, this will impact children more severely.
They’ve endured multiple conflicts over the last decade, and perhaps the consequences are best demonstrated by a study before Oct. 7 by Save the Children that found half of the children of Gaza had contemplated suicide and three out of five were self-harming.
With no psycho-social support interventions in place, and with health care infrastructure collapsed and homes destroyed, what will become of the surviving children, 17,000 of whom have been orphaned during this war? Who will hug them? Who will cover them with a blanket when they’ve fallen asleep? Who will help feed them when they’re hungry?
A cease-fire is just the beginning. Gaza needs to be inundated with shipments of food, water, medicine and fuel to begin the lengthy road to recovery. Too many tragic stories have emerged that will haunt us eternally. Children like Dunia are lost forever, and a million more are at risk.
There is no time to waste. They need us now. Tell their stories, contribute generously to their healing, and advocate to policymakers and elected officials for their safety and security.
Dr. Thaer Ahmad is the emergency department director of global health and medical ethics and an emergency medicine physician at Advocate Christ Medical Center in Oak Lawn.
The Sun-Times welcomes letters to the editor and op-eds. See our guidelines.
By Thaer Ahmad, M.D.
Mar 20, 2024
Children walk past the rubble of a collapsed building with a pot of food provided by a charity organization ahead of the fast-breaking “iftar” meal during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. They’re shown March 16 in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip.
Said Khatib/AFP via Getty
In January, I joined the WHO’s Emergency Medical Teams deployed to Gaza as a member of MedGlobal. I worked in Gaza’s largest remaining hospital, Al-Nasser in Khan Younis.
As I roamed the hospital’s corridors, I was struck by how many displaced people were sheltering in and around the hospital complex. Many were children running and playing "Ring Around the Rosie." It seemed hauntingly out of place against the grim backdrop of bombs and tank shells.
I can’t help but reflect on the suffering and disorder the children of Gaza have encountered during this war.
One evening, as I wandered through the pediatric division, the nurse accompanying me, Shehab, showed me the patient rooms. Many were suffering from upper respiratory infections or diarrheal illnesses. Each room, no bigger than the size of a walk-in closet, had four patients and their caretakers in it, except one room. It had only three patients. The room corner adjacent to the window where the fourth patient would be was empty and the walls were damaged.
Shehab told me the space had belonged to Dunia Abu Mohsen, a 12-year-old who was recovering in the hospital after an airstrike hit her home and killed her family. Dunia had lost her leg in the attack but miraculously survived and awaited a transfer out of Gaza to be fitted for a prosthesis. She dreamed of one day becoming a physician.
Two weeks after being interviewed chronicling her recovery, an Israeli tank shell burst through the window of Dunia’s room and killed her. She is one of more than 12,000 Gazan children killed. Her nurse told me in her last days, Dunia had grown increasingly withdrawn and detached. She had begun to feel the absence of her family.
No one in Gaza has it easy, but for Palestinian children all aspects of life are disrupted and broken. There has been no schooling since the war started, and 75% of the educational infrastructure has been destroyed or damaged.
Palestinian society greatly values education and boasts some of the highest literacy rates globally. Six hundred thousand displaced children are in Rafah, which had a population of 250,000 before Oct. 7. An entire cohort is trapped in the southern edge of Gaza, with schooling stalled. If they survive the war, their futures are inevitably compromised.
Children die of hunger
As food and water are logjammed at the border with Egypt, the rise of extreme hunger and starvation particularly affects vulnerable populations like children.
In Northern Gaza, where there is a looming famine, more than 20 children have starved to death. After the flour massacre, in which Israeli tanks killed more than 100 Palestinians seeking bread for their hungry families, I tremble at the thought of more starving children dying.
In January, UNICEF found one in six children younger than 2 in Northern Gaza were severely malnourished and in need of urgent treatment. While in Khan Younis, our diets mainly consisted of bread and beans. Food poverty must be addressed.
My interactions with Gazan families confirmed the astounding resilience and steadfastness they were known for, but more than five months of immense death and destruction will leave a mark on even the strongest of us.
Many in Gaza believe there is a “war after the war,” referring to a time when everyone will have to process all that has transpired. Surely, this will impact children more severely.
They’ve endured multiple conflicts over the last decade, and perhaps the consequences are best demonstrated by a study before Oct. 7 by Save the Children that found half of the children of Gaza had contemplated suicide and three out of five were self-harming.
With no psycho-social support interventions in place, and with health care infrastructure collapsed and homes destroyed, what will become of the surviving children, 17,000 of whom have been orphaned during this war? Who will hug them? Who will cover them with a blanket when they’ve fallen asleep? Who will help feed them when they’re hungry?
A cease-fire is just the beginning. Gaza needs to be inundated with shipments of food, water, medicine and fuel to begin the lengthy road to recovery. Too many tragic stories have emerged that will haunt us eternally. Children like Dunia are lost forever, and a million more are at risk.
There is no time to waste. They need us now. Tell their stories, contribute generously to their healing, and advocate to policymakers and elected officials for their safety and security.
Dr. Thaer Ahmad is the emergency department director of global health and medical ethics and an emergency medicine physician at Advocate Christ Medical Center in Oak Lawn.
The Sun-Times welcomes letters to the editor and op-eds. See our guidelines.
The views and opinions expressed by contributors are their own and do not necessarily reflect those of the Chicago Sun-Times or any of its affiliates.
