Newborn, Toddlers Survive Days in Rubble, Bringing Joy amid Earthquake Tragedy

A member of the Spanish search and rescue team inspects the area of a building collapse in the aftermath of a powerful earthquake in Hatay, Türkiye 10 February 2023. (EPA)
A member of the Spanish search and rescue team inspects the area of a building collapse in the aftermath of a powerful earthquake in Hatay, Türkiye 10 February 2023. (EPA)
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Newborn, Toddlers Survive Days in Rubble, Bringing Joy amid Earthquake Tragedy

A member of the Spanish search and rescue team inspects the area of a building collapse in the aftermath of a powerful earthquake in Hatay, Türkiye 10 February 2023. (EPA)
A member of the Spanish search and rescue team inspects the area of a building collapse in the aftermath of a powerful earthquake in Hatay, Türkiye 10 February 2023. (EPA)

Crouched under concrete slabs and whispering "inshallah" (God willing), rescuers carefully reached into the rubble, then passed down the line their prize - a 10-day-old newborn who survived four days with his mother in the collapsed building.

His eyes wide open, Turkish baby Yagiz Ulas was wrapped in a shiny thermal blanket and carried to a field medical center in Samandag, Hatay province, on Friday. Emergency workers also carried his mother, dazed and pale but conscious, on a stretcher, video images from Türkiye’s disaster agency showed.

The rescue of small children has lifted the spirits of weary crews searching for survivors on the fifth day after a major earthquake struck Türkiye and neighboring Syria, killing more than 22,000 people.

At least nine children were rescued on Friday, videos released by disaster services showed, their astonishing survival inspiring search crews who also saved several trapped adults.

The rescuers, including specialist teams from dozens of countries, toiled through the night in the ruins of thousands of wrecked buildings. In freezing temperatures, they regularly called for silence as they listened for any sound of life from mangled concrete mounds.

In the Turkish town of Kahramanmaras, 200 km (125 miles) north of Samandag, orange-clad workers squeezed into an air pocket beneath a fallen building to find a toddler, crying as dust fell into his eyes, before relief settled over him and rescuers gently brushed his face clean, video from the Turkish defense ministry showed.

Further to the east, the fearful face of another boy looked out from a pancaked building, his cries rising above the sound of the drills and grinders trying to free him on Friday morning in the Kurdish-majority city of Diyarbakir, where the 7.8 magnitude earthquake and aftershocks turned apartment blocks into mounds of rubble and piles of shattered masonry,

After opening a wider hole, workers placed an oxygen mask on his face and carried him to safety. Like baby Yagiz, he was followed by his mother, on a stretcher, 103 hours after the earthquake struck.

In Nurdagi near Iskenderun, a Spanish rescuer said "I got him, I got him, let's go" as he pulled a whimpering two-year-old boy from a collapsed building.

A human chain of soldiers from the Spanish Military Emergencies Unit (UME) moved the boy, Muslim Saleh, to a heated tent, and minutes later pulled out his six-year-old sister, Elif, and then their mother, all alive and well.

"They did not need much treatment, just love, warmth, water and a little fruit," Aurelio Soto, a UME spokesman, said.

Across the border in Syria, rescuers from the White Helmets group used bare hands to dig through plaster and cement, the air clouded with thick dust, until reaching the bare foot of a young girl, wearing pink pajamas now grimy from days trapped, but alive and free at last.

A day earlier in the Syrian city of Azaz, Jomaa Biazid was reunited with his 18-month-old son Ibrahim, who he had not seen since the quake destroyed the family home, killing his wife and daughter.

Rescuers had found the boy in the rubble and taken him to hospital, where a couple posted images of him on social media hoping to track down any relatives.

Standing in tears with scars and blood stains on his face, Biazid looked stunned as his son called out to him "Baba" ("Dad"). He then rushed forward to give the boy a kiss. Biazid said he was still looking for his other son, Mustafa.



Newborn Twins Killed in Gaza Strike While Father Registered Birth

Mohammed Abu Al-Qumsan, whose wife Jumana, and newborn twins Aser and Aysal were killed in an Israeli strike while he was bringing the twins' birth of certificates, according to medics, reacts as he holds the certificates, in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, August 13, 2024. (Reuters)
Mohammed Abu Al-Qumsan, whose wife Jumana, and newborn twins Aser and Aysal were killed in an Israeli strike while he was bringing the twins' birth of certificates, according to medics, reacts as he holds the certificates, in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, August 13, 2024. (Reuters)
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Newborn Twins Killed in Gaza Strike While Father Registered Birth

Mohammed Abu Al-Qumsan, whose wife Jumana, and newborn twins Aser and Aysal were killed in an Israeli strike while he was bringing the twins' birth of certificates, according to medics, reacts as he holds the certificates, in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, August 13, 2024. (Reuters)
Mohammed Abu Al-Qumsan, whose wife Jumana, and newborn twins Aser and Aysal were killed in an Israeli strike while he was bringing the twins' birth of certificates, according to medics, reacts as he holds the certificates, in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, August 13, 2024. (Reuters)

Mohammed Abu al-Qumsan had just collected the birth certificates of his three-day-old twins when he received the news: his Gaza apartment had been bombed, killing the babies and their mother.

Footage of a distraught Abu al-Qumsan, weeping and falling as he still holds the birth certificates, has been widely circulated on social media, becoming the latest emblem of the devastating toll of the war in the Palestinian territory.

"I was in the hospital at the time when the house was targeted," he says, tears streaming down his face.

"There was a call, after the birth certificates were printed.

"The caller asked, 'Are you okay and where are you?' I told them I was at Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital, and I was told that my house had been bombed."

Abu al-Qumsan had left his wife, the infants and his mother-in-law in the fifth-floor flat they shared in Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, which has been relentlessly bombed by Israeli forces.

"I was informed that they are in Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital and I told them I am at the entrance to the hospital," he says.

"I went inside the hospital with the birth certificates in my hands... and they told me they are in the morgue."

On Wednesday, with his home obliterated and his family gone, Abu al-Qumsan folded unused pink and yellow baby clothes outside a blue tent in Al-Mawasi, a coastal area that Israel has declared a humanitarian zone.

He never got the chance to show his wife that their babies had been legally named: Aser, the boy, and Aysal, the girl.

"On the same day I obtained their birth certificates, I also had to submit their death certificates, for my children, and also for their mother."

"I did not get the chance to celebrate their arrival. Their clothes are new, they did not wear them," he says, also showing a half-full pack of nappies.

"These nappies, we had a hard time finding them. For three months, we have been trying to buy some" in the Gaza Strip, where there has been a dire shortage of basic supplies since the start of the war.

- 'Living in terror' -

The Gaza war began with Hamas's October 7 attack on southern Israel which resulted in the deaths of 1,198 people, mostly civilians, according to an AFP tally of Israeli official figures.

Fighters also seized 251 people, 111 of whom are still held captive in Gaza, including 39 the military says are dead.

Israel's retaliatory military offensive in Gaza has killed at least 39,965 people, according to a toll from the territory's health ministry, which does not provide a breakdown of civilian and militant deaths.

Abu al-Qumsan married his wife Jumana, a pharmacist, in July last year, before the war plunged their lives into chaos.

She endured a traumatic pregnancy as they fled from place to place to escape the bombardments. Despite carrying twins, she insisted on volunteering in hospitals until the seventh month.

"Since the beginning of the war, I have been afraid every day, living in terror, and I was afraid that she would miscarry," Abu al-Qumsan says.

"We lost friends, family, and people who were very dear to us," he adds.

"We were in a lot of pain, we were very scared. We ran a lot."

"I want to know why she was killed in this way. I want to know why she was targeted. In the house, in a safe area," he says.

"There was no prior warning of the bombing of the house. I have nothing to do with military action. We are civilians."