Medics in Northern Gaza Won't Leave — Despite Siege and Bombs
Medics in Northern Gaza Won't Leave — Despite Siege and Bombs
Despite the Israeli military's siege and the threat of bombardment, the medical staff at the Indonesian Hospital in northern Gaza refuse to evacuate or abandon their patients.
At the Indonesian Hospital in northern Gaza, power is now out, and food supplies have dwindled. And while the sounds of crying children and the groans of the injured are growing constant, the doctors and nurses are standing their ground.
For the past seven days, Dr. Ibrahim Al-Kurd has not slept for more than a couple of hours at a time. “I close my eyes, but I can still hear the explosions,” the 35-year-old ER physician says, his eyes bloodshot and face pale. “Even if I wanted to sleep, I can’t.”
Inside the hospital is a scene of horror and chaos, with doctors performing surgeries by flashlight and nurses forced to ration the last bits of medical supplies.
“We’ve been working nonstop,” says nurse Amani Abu Jazar, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “We take turns trying to rest for maybe an hour at a time, but how can you rest when people are bleeding and children dying around you all the time?”
Abu Jazar, 28, has barely left the pediatric ward since the war began. She speaks in fatigue and anger. “We don’t have enough bandages. We don’t have enough food. The generators are dying, and so are the patients.”
Operating Under Siege
While the hospital is enduring an Israeli military ground operation that has cut off access to any place outside its vicinity, families trying to flee are at risk of being targeted by airstrikes.
“Nobody dares to leave,” says Dr. Hana Mousa, a pediatrician. “We’re stuck. If we leave, we’re sitting ducks on the road. If we stay, we risk being bombed any moment.”
The hospital is now crammed far beyond its capacity. Patients and displaced people are lying on the floor, and the morgue has overflowed that the dead are wrapped in sheets and stored in empty rooms or on the sidewalks outside.
“We’ve had to turn food trucks into makeshift morgues,” says Dr. Al-Kurd. “The heat is unbearable, and the stench… we have no refrigeration left to keep the bodies cool. The morgue filled up days ago, and now, with no power, the only option is to store the dead in food trucks parked at the door. It’s not just horrifying—it’s heartbreaking.”
He pauses, then adds, “We had no choice.”
No fuel, no food, no hope
Along with the cut off of electricity, water, and communication networks, the fuel shortage has crippled the hospital’s ability to function, as a growing number of ambulances now sit idle in the parking lot.
“There is no fuel to send them out, and even if there were, the roads are too dangerous,” says Al-Kurd, frustration bubbling in his voice. “We receive calls from people for help, but we can’t reach them. We have no way to bring the wounded here. They’re dying out there, and there’s nothing we can do.”
The generators, which have been running on fumes for days, flicker sporadically, casting brief moments of light before plunging the hospital back into darkness.
Inside the operating room, surgeons work by the dim flashlight of their cellphones.
“It’s almost impossible to see what we’re doing,” says Dr. Al-Kurd. “We try to hold our phones steady with one hand while using surgical tools with the other. The power cuts have made it nearly impossible to operate safely.” Dr. Al-Kurd describes that every surgery they perform is “a race against time, with no guarantee of success.”
“We’re down to a couple of hours of power each day,” nurse Amani Abu Jazar says. “When the generator kicks in, we have to make brutal decisions—what to keep running and what to switch off.”
“The ICU and ventilators for children are the priority,” Dr. Al-Kurd explains, “But the rest of the hospital is plunged into darkness. You can hear the beeping of machines stopping, and the panic that follows when patients realize they may not survive the next power cut.”
Food and water are also running dangerously low. Over the past months, the hospital staff have relied on food donated by those who risked their lives to bring in what little they could find—a few loaves of bread, some bottles of water. The staff themselves have been subsisting on scraps, giving whatever food they receive to the patients and their families.
“I haven’t eaten properly in weeks,” says Dr. Mousa, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not only because food is scarce, but because I see are starving children right in front of me, so we give everything to the patients. We can live without food for a while. They can’t.”
A Decision to Stay
Despite the Israeli military’s multiple orders for evacuation, the staff of the Indonesian Hospital have refused to leave. They know the risks—the hospital could be bombed at any moment, and they are cut off from any form of assistance. But leaving is not an option.
“We are doctors, we are nurses,” says Al-Kurd, his voice breaking. “We don’t abandon people. We don’t leave them to die.”
Dr. Abu Jazar agrees. “This is our duty. This is what we trained for. We save lives, no matter what. Even if it means we don’t make it out ourselves.”
The fear of death is omnipresent, but for the medical staff of the hospital, it is something they have grown accustomed to. The hovering of fighter jets overhead, the distant thuds of artillery—these are the sounds of their reality. And yet, they continue their work: Stitching wounds, comforting the dying, and holding on to hope in a place where hope is in short supply.
“We know we could die any minute,” says Dr. Mousa. “But we can’t just leave these people. We’re their only chance.”
Editor’s Note: The interviews with the doctors and nurses of the Indonesian Hospital were conducted one week ago, before the complete cut-off of internet and communication networks. The author had the permission of the hospital staff to publish their stories. By the time of publication, the Israeli army besieged the hospital early Saturday morning, October 19, 2024, targeting anyone moving within the vicinity.
Dr. Marwan Sultan, the director of the Indonesian Hospital, confirmed the medical complex is currently almost non-operational and its premises are surrounded by Israeli forces. The Gaza Ministry of Health reported that Israeli artillery bombed the upper floors of the hospital, which houses over 40 patients, along with medical staff.
The Ministry confirmed a complete power outage at the facility, and mentioned that a group of displaced people was targeted at the hospital’s entrance, with heavy gunfire directed at the building and its grounds, spreading fear among patients and medical personnel.
I can’t even imagine the feelings of working in this environment, your words took me there and brought me to tears . Such heroic and brave souls working to help the injured and suffering people of Gaza .
In the face of violence and cruelty, when most would fight just to survive, this people have shown an extraordinary sense of responsibility, noble character, and a willingness to sacrifice everything, even their lives. Their strength, resilience, and unwavering moral integrity shine through in these darkest moments. Their greatness surpasses anything the world can offer, leaving us feeling humbled and powerless, unable to match their immense courage. Thank you for the excellent and beautifully written coverage, Mohammed!