Gaza City – Before October 2023, Ezzeddin Lulu, or simply “Ezz”, liked to draw people he saw on the street.
Armed with his charcoal and drawing pad, Ezz, a fifth-year medical student at the Islamic University in Gaza City, walked around and drew impromptu portraits of people going about their business.
“I focused on those who I felt needed a smile to lighten their burden,” Ezz, 22, shared via WhatsApp.
His subjects shared Ezz’s joy, as shown in his videos on social media.
In one of them, an old woman selling toys on the street exclaims with a big smile: “Oh, Habibi! May God protect you and grant you everything you desire.”
Shift
A day after Israel began its war on Gaza, on October 8, the building where Ezz and his family lived in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood was bombed.
Miraculously, Ezz, his parents, his older brother and his brother’s young family survived the attack.
“First, Israeli warplanes bombed the roof, and we fled,” Ezz recalls. “A few hours later, they bombed again, reducing (the building) to rubble.”
“The place I lived for 22 years… the happiest moments of my life, gone in the blink of an eye,” Ezz sighs. “I couldn’t take anything except my phone and a few documents.”
The family sought refuge in their grandparents’ house in Remal, a now-devastated neighborhood that was the cultural and economic center of Gaza, with bustling streets, markets, cafes, restaurants and a strong sense of community.
Amid the loss and destruction, Ezz felt compelled to volunteer at al-Shifa hospital, even though he knew it meant he could be “surrounded or targeted at any moment, especially since Israel … declared al-Shifa a target.” His family supported him despite their own fears.
On October 10, Ezz was placed on the emergency list as a physician, a difficult transition overnight.
“That’s when people needed me the most, but I didn’t realize how hard it would be,” Ezz said. “But pride flooded through me, knowing I was able to help.”
“We either didn’t have supplies or we didn’t have enough. In some cases, even if we had the means, there was no treatment for (someone) because of the hopelessness of their case,” he said.
Loss
By November, tanks had surrounded al-Shifa, ordering everyone to leave under arbitrary shelling and bombardment.
“About 7,000 people were inside – patients, doctors, nurses and displaced people. Many doctors have left.
“Some patients couldn’t come, so some doctors and I decided to stay,” said Ezz, who was working around the clock.
On November 10, Israeli tanks surrounded the hospital, shelling it so heavily that communications networks were cut and Ezz lost contact with his family.
The siege of al-Shifa lasted 10 days that Ezz “will never forget.” Electricity was cut off, oxygen supplies were running out and fuel was running low.
“Departments, halls, corridors…everywhere became dark,” he said.
“I saw eight patients on oxygen die, without being able to help them,” Ezz said sadly.
“We were living on dates and water, fasting all day and breaking our fast with a small glass of water and a date. It was not Ramadan, we were fasting to ask God to ease our distress and extend our limited supply of water and dates as long as possible,” Ezz said.
Amid fear, exhaustion and hunger, Ezz received a phone call on November 13 at 9 p.m. from Dr. Fadel Naeem, director of al-Ahli Baptist Hospital.
“May God reward you greatly for your loss,” Naeem said. “Your family was targeted… they are under the rubble.”
Indescribable
“I could never describe what I felt,” Ezz said.
An Israeli attack killed Ezz’s father, Samir, his 32-year-old brother, Huzaifa, his wife Rana, who was two months pregnant, and their five-year-old daughter, Reem. Two of his uncles and their families, as well as his grandmother, were also killed.
When Naeem said, “Your mother is still alive,” Ezz felt life return to him.
“I left the phone,” he said, “and went to do my ablutions and prayed to God, thanking him for at least sparing my mother.
“The grief of not being able to say goodbye to my family, especially my father – my best friend and biggest supporter – hurt me,” Ezz said.
When the Israeli army forced everyone in al-Shifa to leave, Ezz desperately searched for his mother who had no phone.
“After frantic calls, I found her at Baptist Hospital,” Ezz said, recalling her relief at seeing her mother again.
“At first I didn’t recognize her; she had been stuck under the debris for about 45 minutes. We held each other tightly, tears in our eyes, a hug of shared pain and comfort,” he said.
Ezz stayed by his mother’s side for two months, supporting her and recovering from his trauma.
By January, al-Shifa was still not operational, so Ezz joined al-Ahli, helping with surgeries and collaborating with doctors.
Resilience
Ezz wants to make his father’s dream come true.
“My father had always dreamed of me graduating from medical school, putting on the gown and taking the oath,” Ezz recalls.
To honor this dream, Ezz established the Samir Foundation in June to provide training, workshops and financial support to medical students in northern Gaza. Contributions from individuals and organizations abroad as well as crowdfunding helped him make this dream a reality.
“Just like my father wanted me to graduate, I want to help other students achieve their dreams and honor their family,” Ezz said.
Among the doctors who provided training for the foundation were Naeem from al-Ahli Hospital and Drs Hani Al-Qadi and Osama Hamed from a Jordanian medical delegation.
“Despite the loss Ezz faced, he remained resilient,” Tasnim, 21, a beneficiary of the foundation, shared via WhatsApp.
Ezz’s university was devastated by Israeli bombs, meaning he won’t be able to graduate next year, but he has already started working and gained a lot of experience for his age.
“It is usually difficult for new graduates to become first assistants, but this role was given to me,” said Ezz, proud and sad.
“I wish my dad was here to see how far I’ve come.”