Escapees and Voluntary Prisoners

It was another Gaza day, but today I had another doctor that I was bringing out in addition to the usual one. This doctor wasn’t coming to treat patients with the Israeli doctors however, he was coming to be admitted at a hospital in Israel for cancer treatment. I was to drop him off at another hospital we work with after letting off our usual Gaza patients at another hospital. So here I was chit chatting on the drive from Gaza to Tel Aviv with two of the most distinguished medical professionals that live in the Gaza Strip. Many of the governments in the Middle East choose the jobs of citizens based on how well they score in school, and in order to be a doctor in Gaza one must score in the top few percent, so these men were also among the smartest and well educated. These two men are some of the few people that, if they wanted to, could get out of the Gaza Strip, make much more money, live in a much nicer place with all the things we daily take for granted, and certainly be far safer. And still they spoke about what they did as though they could do nothing else, to hear them speak and share their story, their compassion and desire to serve their people was very powerful. The doctor coming for treatment was in obvious physical pain toward the end of the drive but we soon made it to the hospital. Like most things in Israel the hospitals have security, but far tighter than most other places, with guard shacks and armed security at every entrance; they usually search the trunk and in the case of Palestinians their bags as well. This doctor was held up for probably 15 minutes while they checked his permission and searched his things, but when I finally dropped him he off unphased, and as very gracious and thankful as ever.

After dropping the doctor off, I returned to the other hospital where I had dropped off the Gaza patients. After all the tests and echocardiograms were finished for the patients I got them loaded up in my van to return back to Gaza. Before getting in, a father with his son of about 15 asked me if he could run to the hospital pharmacy to buy some medicine for his wife. Understanding their need and knowing how expensive things are in Gaza I told them they could go, but I told them to hurry since the other families were already waiting in the van, and I sent Erica our Gaza coordinator to escort them. When they got to the pharmacy in the hospital mall the father told the son to wait outside while he and Erica ran in to get what they needed. When they came out of the pharmacy they immediately noticed the son was not where they left them. The father turned to Erica and asked where he was, and after a moment of looking around them the father said they should split up to look. The father went one way and Erica the other. After almost half an hour of waiting in the van with the other families I called Erica to find out what the trouble was. She told me the situation and I immediately got out and began to look around the hospital myself. I told Erica that if we couldn’t find the son soon we should call the hospital security to search the hospital grounds for him. After another 15 minutes of fruitless searching I told Erica we would need to have security look for him. Erica called the Father on the phone to let him know, to which he replied “No, no, don’t call security, we’ll be at the van in five minutes!” We immediately realized we had been duped, we thought, like Gaza families commonly do, they were shopping and wanted to trick us to buy more time. Erica and I met up at the van again with the other exhausted families to wait, but again ten more minutes passed. Erica called the father again to find out where they were, only this time the line was dead, they had turned off the phone. We immediately got the attention of the security, many of whom I have become well acquainted with in this work, and informed them of the situation. After sweeping the hospital I met back with them where the disappearance originally took place, at the pharmacy. The pharmacy itself is only ten feet or so from an exit to the main street, and it was at that point we realized that there was no security check for people leaving the hospital. We approached the guard at that entrance, the security asked if he had seen the father and son. The guard said he saw them go down to the street and get in a taxi.

We had no choice but to alert the police and the security supervisor at the border that a father and teenage son from Gaza had escaped into Israel. When we brought the other families back to the border we informed the guard about the situation and he put the crossing point on notice as well (the only pedestrian crossing point in and out of Gaza)…That was the last we heard of them.

Noor

I’m crossposting this blog from one I recently posted for Shevet. My personal blog has been a little dry on Iraqis lately and I put a lot of the minutia which into this which I hope gives a true sense of the relationships and emotions. This is a little boy named Noor, “light” in Arabic, who had open-heart surgery through Shevet Achim about two weeks ago. Follow his entire story from start to finish here: http://www.shevet.org/nooriraq/

Noor was looking very good today when we visited him at Wolfson Medical Center. He was very excited to see the Shevet family and wanted to play right away. Noor is still pretty weak and needs to take it easy, so I thought a nice wheelchair ride around the hospital was in order. We stopped to enjoy the photos on the walls in the halls, and we waved “bye bye” to Noor’s mother as I wheeled him outside around the hospital grounds. We enjoyed the scenery and talked to each other the whole way, though we could scarcely understand a word the other spoke. Noor giggled the whole time and especially enjoyed the wheelchair being leaned back when we went up and down the curbs, and meowing at a cat we spotted resting under a car. We stopped by the play room on the way back and did some coloring and played on the piano.

When we arrived back at his hospital room a nurse told me some surprising news: Noor was to be released back to Jerusalem today! A doctor soon came in to do some checks and confirmed he would be allowed home today; Noor’s mother was very happy to hear this news. After the good news we enjoyed a hospital lunch together on Noor’s bed, and as usual Noor made sure I ate everything he ate. While we were waiting on a couple other things Noor decided he wanted to try out pushing the wheel chair, so I hopped in and Noor had a blast wheeling me around the room and crashing into things (and occasionally people). After about 15 minutes of this we made him stop so he wouldn’t exhaust himself, which he wasn’t happy about, but we were soon on our way home. Noor waved and said “bye bye hospital” in Kurdish as we pulled away.


On the day of Noor’s surgery, while it was taking place, I was able to get someone to snap a photo of the unique situation the Iraqi mothers and I found ourselves in. The photo below depicts all the mothers with hospitalized children in one place. The child of the mother on the far right had at this point unconscious post-surgery for more than a week, and struggling to survive. The child of the mother next to her was in the intensive care unit as well recovering from open-heart surgery. The mother in the middle is the mother of Bilal, the child in the stroller, who was enjoying his first opportunity to be outside since his surgery. The woman on the top left is Noor’s mother. Perhaps it isn’t very obvious without knowing these mothers personally, but the solidarity and even happiness these mothers exhibited during the time this photo was taken, in the midst of these terrifying times as a parent, is quite incredible. It would surely not be possible were but for their confidence in the ability of these doctors, their trust and friendship with us as we stand by them, and the supportive relationships they have built with one another.