Sickness Can Be ‘Death Sentence’ in Gaza as War Fuels Disease 

A Palestinian woman reacts at the site following Israeli strikes on a tent camp sheltering displaced people, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, at the Al-Mawasi area in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 10, 2024. (Reuters)
A Palestinian woman reacts at the site following Israeli strikes on a tent camp sheltering displaced people, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, at the Al-Mawasi area in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 10, 2024. (Reuters)
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Sickness Can Be ‘Death Sentence’ in Gaza as War Fuels Disease 

A Palestinian woman reacts at the site following Israeli strikes on a tent camp sheltering displaced people, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, at the Al-Mawasi area in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 10, 2024. (Reuters)
A Palestinian woman reacts at the site following Israeli strikes on a tent camp sheltering displaced people, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, at the Al-Mawasi area in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 10, 2024. (Reuters)

In Gaza, falling ill can be a death sentence. Cancer patients are waiting to die, polio has returned, and many of the doctors and nurses who might have offered help are dead while the hospitals they worked at have been reduced to rubble.

Doctors and health professionals say that even if the Israel-Hamas war were to stop tomorrow, it will take years to rebuild the healthcare sector and people will continue to die because preventable diseases are not being treated on time.

"People are dying on a daily basis because they cannot get the basic treatment they need," said Riham Jafari, advocacy and communications coordinator at rights group ActionAid Palestine.

Cancer patients "are waiting for their turn to die," she told the Thomson Reuters Foundation.

Last week, Israel and Hamas agreed on limited pauses in the fighting to allow children to be vaccinated against polio after a one-year-old baby boy was found to be partially paralyzed from the disease, the first case in the crowded strip in 25 years.

But even as crowds gathered in the southern cities of Rafah and Khan Younis for vaccinations on Sept. 5, bombs continued to fall in other areas with Gaza health officials saying an Israeli strike killed five people at the Al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir Al-Balah.

"It will take long and so much effort in order to restore the level of care that we used to have in Gaza," said Mohammed Aghaalkurdi, medical program lead at Medical Aid for Palestinians.

Every day he sees around 180 children with skin diseases that he "just cannot treat," he said.

"Due to vaccination campaign interruptions, lack of supplies, lack of hygiene items and infection prevention control material, it (healthcare) is just deteriorating."

The conflict was triggered when Hamas-led fighters attacked southern Israel on Oct. 7, killing 1,200 people and taking more than 250 hostages, according to Israeli tallies.

Since then, more than 40,800 Palestinians have been killed by Israel's offensive in the enclave, according to the Gaza health ministry, with around 92,000 wounded.

But beyond the death toll from the fighting and airstrikes, people are also succumbing to illnesses that could be cured in normal circumstances.

As with the re-emergence of polio, children will bear the brunt of these long-term consequences, health experts say.

"We are talking about disabilities, we are talking about intellectual disabilities, mental health issues," said Aghaalkurdi.

"Things that will stick to the child until they die."

SPECIALISTS KILLED

At least 490 healthcare workers have been killed since the conflict erupted, according to Gaza's health ministry. A Reuters investigation found that 55 highly qualified specialist doctors were among those killed.

With each specialist killed, Gaza has lost a source of knowledge and human connections, a devastating blow on top of the destruction of most of the Strip's hospitals.

Many people have become weak from a lack of food, as prices of basic commodities have more than quadrupled since the conflict began. When they become ill, they are also too frightened to journey to the few remaining hospitals, Jafari said.

Eighty-two percent of children aged between 6 and 23 months have limited access to quality food, according to a report by the Global Network Against Food Crises, and more than 90% of children under 5-years-old suffer from infectious diseases.

Meanwhile, skin diseases are rampant because of a lack of cleaning supplies and hygiene products, Jafari said. In markets, a bottle of shampoo can cost around $50.

Israel has severely restricted the flow of food and aid into Gaza, and humanitarian agencies have warned of the risk of famine.

Jafari expects a reckoning after the war ends.

"There is delayed suffering, delayed sadness, there are diseases that are being delayed," she said. "There is an entire journey of suffering that is being delayed until the end of the war," she said.

CANCER 'DEATH SENTENCE'

Manal Ragheb Fakhri al-Masri, 42, is one of those facing that health reckoning.

Displaced seven times with her nine children, she has a heart condition and a benign tumor in her stomach and was supposed to leave Gaza for treatment earlier this year.

But then her husband was killed and she could not bear to leave her children.

Now, having also suffered several strokes, she is bedridden, unable to leave her tent by the sea in Al-Mawasi, which Israel had declared a safe zone. She has not had any medicine in five months and has not even been able to shower for two weeks.

"My husband used to take care of me and get medicine and feed his children," she said in a phone interview with the Thomson Reuters Foundation. "Now I do not know what do. We do not have the most basic things."

Her children try to help as much as they can and sometimes bring her seawater for her to wash with but the salty liquid offers no respite. Her children are also all suffering from red rashes but they have no creams to soothe their burning limbs.

Waseem Alzaanin, a general practitioner with the Palestine Red Crescent Society, said the lack of drugs, equipment and medical facilities is killing his cancer patients.

Gaza's only cancer center was destroyed earlier this year, he said, and many of his stage-one cancer patients are now classified as stage-four.

"The most basic requirements are not present. We cannot do anything except give them painkillers and make them comfortable with what life they have left," he said.

"It is like a death sentence," he added. "Let us not kid ourselves. We have no medical system."



With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
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With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher

When a ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah came into effect last week, Lebanese hotelier Abbas al-Tannoukhi leapt at the chance to bury a dead relative in their southern hometown of Khiyam, battered for weeks by intense clashes.

Tannoukhi's cousin had been killed in one of the final Israeli airstrikes on Beirut's suburbs before Wednesday's ceasefire, which stipulated an end to fighting so residents on both sides of the border could return home.

But with Israeli troops still deployed in southern Lebanon, Tannoukhi coordinated his movements with Lebanon's army. Last Friday, he and his relatives pulled into the family graveyard in Khiyam, six km (four miles) from the border, with an ambulance carrying his cousin's body.

"We just needed 30 minutes (to bury her)," Tannoukhi, 54, said. "But we were surprised when Israeli tanks encircled us - and that's when the gunfire started."

Tannoukhi fled with his relatives on foot through the brush, wounding his hand as he scrambled between rocks and olive groves to reach safety at a checkpoint operated by Lebanese troops.

Soon afterwards, they tried to reach the graveyard again but said they were fired on a second time. Shaky footage filmed by Tannoukhi features sprays of gunfire.

"We couldn't bury her. We had to leave her body there in the ambulance. But we will try again," he told Reuters.

The ordeal highlights the bitterness and confusion for residents of southern Lebanon who have been unable to return home because Israeli troops are still present on Lebanese territory.

Israel's military has issued orders to residents of 60 southern Lebanese towns not to return home, saying they are prohibited from accessing their hometowns until further notice.

The US-brokered ceasefire deal grants both Lebanon and Israel the right to self-defense, but does not include provisions on a buffer zone or restrictions for residents.

"Why did we go back? Because there's a ceasefire," Tannoukhi said. "It's a halt to hostilities. And it is a natural right for a son of the south to go to his house."

The Israeli military did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

PEACE OF MIND

The ceasefire brought an end to over a year of hostilities between Israel and Lebanese armed group Hezbollah, which began firing rockets at Israeli military targets in 2023 in support of its Palestinian ally Hamas in Gaza.

Israel went on the offensive in September, bombing swathes of Lebanon's south, east and the southern suburbs of Beirut. More than 1.2 million people fled their homes.

After the 60-day ceasefire came into effect last Wednesday, residents of Beirut's suburbs returned home to vast destruction, and some Lebanese from the south were able to return to homes further away from the border.

But both sides began accusing each other of breaking the deal, with Israel saying suspicious movements in villages along the south constituted violations and Lebanon's army pointing to Israeli tank fire and airstrikes as breaches.

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, a father of 12, was hoping to return home to Beit Lif, about two km from the border.

But nearly a week into the ceasefire, he is still living at a displacement shelter near Tyre, a coastal city about 25 km from the border.

He tried to venture home alone last week, but as soon as he arrived, there was tank fire around the town and he received a warning on his phone that his town was in the Israeli military's "no-go" zone.

Sayyed is still stuck in displacement and wants to get home.

"I hope we go back to our town so we can get peace of mind," he said.