Deir el-Balah, Gaza – Three-year-old Hanan al-Daqqi spends her days with her younger sister Misk, occasionally asking questions.
“Where’s mom?”
“Where have my legs gone?”
The two young children have been hospitalized for four months since they were brought there, beaten and bleeding from an Israeli bombardment, and had their legs amputated.
Since then, their father’s sister, Shefa al-Daqqi, 28, has been by their side, but she still doesn’t know how to answer the girls’ questions.
“Trapped in a Nightmare”
On the morning of September 2, Shaima al-Daqqi got up early to take her two daughters – Hanan and Misk, 22 months – to get a polio vaccination, which was being offered to the population in the midst of Israel’s war against Gaza.
The next day, after the family had lunch, Israel bombed their home in Deir el-Balah.
He killed Shaima, 25, injured the rest of the family, including her husband Mohammed al-Daqqi, and tore the legs of the two little girls.
Hanan was seriously injured, losing both legs – one above the knee and one below – and suffering injuries all over her body, including her face and intestines. She had to have surgery to remove part of her intestines.
Meanwhile, little Misk had to have her left foot amputated.
Their father, Mohammed, 31, was in intensive care for two weeks due to a brain hemorrhage and chest injuries.
“We’ve been trapped in a nightmare for four months now,” Shefa says as she tries to soothe Hanan, who has been fragile and unstable since the attack.
Both girls are in a state of frightening panic and are constantly clinging to their aunt.
Shefa tries to comfort them, but often finds herself crying over the little girls, partly out of sadness and partly out of fear of what the future holds for them.
“All I can tell him now is that his mother is in heaven. What kind of future should they hope for?
“How will they feel growing up and seeing how different they are from other kids their age? How will Hanan wear the clothes she loves so much?
“What should I say when she asks for pretty dresses or pretty shoes?
“It’s harder for Hanan because she understands better than her sister, and her injuries are much more serious.”
The hospital and its staff work in such an overcrowded and under-equipped environment that it is not possible to provide psychological support to the girls.
Looking at other children’s legs
Shefa, herself a mother of three children, takes turns looking after the two girls, alternating with their grandmother, the late mother Shaima, their paternal uncle Ahmed, 29, and their father, who stays with them at night.
As soon as they can, the adults bring the girls small treats, whatever they can find in the markets. Girls often ask for toys, but none are available and they have to make do with whatever little accessories and treats their family can find.
Ahmed is the most fun for the girls, Shefa says, playing with them and taking them out of their rooms to tour the rest of the hospital.
“None of us can or will ever replace a mother,” Shefa says, her eyes red and tears streaming.
“I will never forget the look on Hanan’s face when I brought my daughter Hala, who is her age, to visit them,” Shefa recalls.
“Hanan looked at Hala’s legs, then at her own amputated legs, confused. Before his injury, they ran and played together all the time.
“Now they play on the hospital bed,” said Shefa, who lived in Jabalia but was moved with her family a year ago to the family home in Deir el-Balah.
Because the girls are in a rapid growth phase, they have been kept in the hospital for constant monitoring of the lengthening of their bones. The physiotherapy that the hospital can offer them is not consistent enough to help them much.
They draw, play with visitors or play with their adult companion’s cell phone to pass the time.
A mother’s adoration
When Israel’s war on Gaza began, Shaima was consumed with fear for her daughters.
She couldn’t eat or sleep, losing a lot of weight as she worried about finding the food and formula the girls needed.
She had always been devoted to her daughters, spending time with them and working to provide them with everything they wanted.
Especially little Hanan, who loved dressing up and cared deeply about her dresses and shoes.
“Shaima loved them,” adds Shefa.
When polio vaccines were rolled out in Gaza and Israel agreed to let the campaign go ahead without a hitch, Shaima was determined that her daughters would have at least this protection.
She encouraged her sisters and in-laws to do the same.
“Of course, we were all worried that our children would be hurt. But what is it for? Children are protected against polio, but then an Israeli airstrike blows their legs off? How does this make sense? adds Shefa.
Waiting for healing
Hanan and Misk cannot complete their recovery in Gaza because Israel has destroyed the health sector, so their names have been put on a list of people who must leave Gaza for treatment.
The World Health Organization collates the names on the list, but no one can leave the country unless Israel approves their departure, and it has not yet approved the girls’ departure.
“We have been waiting for more than three months. They’re just little girls who desperately need prosthetics. Their mental state deteriorates,” explains Shefa.
It’s not just prosthetics that girls can’t get in Gaza. They must be fully assessed and undergo a rehabilitation process before prosthetics can be considered.
With Hanan and Misk still growing, the bone growth associated with their age will also pose challenges that will require constant monitoring and possibly multiple surgeries.
What Shefa knows is that little girls’ lives will never be the same again.
“Hanan wants to wear shoes and she asks me why she can’t… why she can’t go play in the park,” she says.
“I don’t have any answers.”