A conflict broke out in Gaza when militants affiliated with Hamas attacked southern Israel on October 7, 2023, resulting in approximately 1,200 deaths, mostly civilians, and the abduction of 251 individuals. As of now, 48 hostages, of whom less than half are believed to be alive, are still in Gaza.
According to the Gaza Strip’s health ministry under Hamas control, Israeli assaults in Gaza have led to the deaths of at least 64,964 people since the conflict began. The vast majority of homes are estimated to be either damaged or completely destroyed. Critical infrastructure such as healthcare, water, sanitation, and hygiene services has collapsed, and experts supported by the UN have declared a state of famine in Gaza City.
An independent panel of experts, appointed by the United Nations Human Rights Council, has determined that Israel is engaging in actions amounting to genocide in Gaza. The experts have identified evidence of four out of five genocidal acts as outlined by international law, including killings, causing severe physical or mental harm, intentionally creating conditions to lead to destruction, and obstructing births.
While the investigation was conducted under the auspices of the Human Rights Council, it does not represent the entire UN body. Israel has vehemently denied the report, labeling it as “distorted and baseless.”
For the innocent civilians caught in the turmoil, the situation transcends politics, religion, or retribution. They find themselves thrust into a desperate struggle for survival, witnessing unspeakable atrocities and experiencing the loss of their loved ones.
Mandy Blackman, aged 56, who manages a field hospital in al-Mawasi within Gaza for the charity UK-Med, vividly describes the grim reality facing those on the frontline in Gaza…
“My mornings start with emaciated children attempting to rouse their deceased parents in al-Mawansi, Gaza. Desperate parents implore me for food, diapers, and medical aid for their ailing children. Many infants arrive malnourished, with visible ribs and sunken faces. I deal with daily gunshot wounds across all age groups and genders, often resulting in life-altering injuries. Families search frantically for children separated in the chaos, some arriving by donkey-drawn carts.
While some receive the relief of knowing their children are alive albeit severely injured, others receive the devastating news of their children’s demise.
This is the harsh reality on the Gaza frontline. Normally stationed at Kettering General Hospital in Northamptonshire, I am now managing a field hospital in Gaza. Despite my efforts to remain composed, the harrowing scenes have moved me to tears.
Once, a teenage boy innocently shot in the head while selling water to support his family was brought to our hospital. His parents were by his side as he passed away.
Numerous malnourished children arrive late with infected wounds, their physical and mental states depleted by chronic trauma, unmanaged diabetes, and hypertension, posing challenges to basic treatment. Many children, traumatized and often silent, exhibit deep psychological scars spanning all age groups.
Scores of children suffering from abdominal gunshot wounds are rushed to surgery for life-saving interventions, often necessitating multiple procedures. Many end up with permanent colostomy bags.
The horrors are ceaseless. My day starts at 7 am, immediately addressing the mass casualties from the previous night. Gaza City staff may have evacuated their damaged or destroyed homes, coping with the loss or injury of family members.
The only forewarning of a mass incident is the sound of explosions or blaring horns. I navigate through a constant stream of patients, predominantly young men with gunshot or blast injuries, who have traveled great distances to reach the hospital.
Sleep is a luxury we are deprived of; at night, the cries of distressed families seeking help for their wounded kin echo through the facility.
The inadequate supply of essential medical equipment, stalled at the border, exacerbates our challenges. Pain relief medications, antibiotics, and anesthetics are in short supply.
Dressings for burns and complex wounds, which form the bulk of our workload, are alarmingly scarce. Antibiotics and pain relief options are severely limited, forcing patients to purchase their own medications for us to administer. It is remarkable that we are sustaining our services under these dire circumstances, worsened by the ongoing southward migration.
Our equipment is constantly overused, sharpened, and repaired in a bid to uphold care standards, but it remains far below the standards achievable in the UK.
We witness our colleagues, with whom we have served for over 18 months, deteriorating physically and emotionally, exhibiting signs of despondency.
The patients we attend to, despite facing multiple displacements, exhibit kindness and gratitude for our care. Discharged to tents with scant access to necessities like food, water, electricity, and sanitation, they persevere.
Our ability to communicate with our families sustains us. Supported by a dedicated team of national and international professionals, we remain empathetic,