Syria’s Health Workers Hit by Double Tragedy after Quake

A view shows damaged buildings in the aftermath of an earthquake, in opposition-held town of Harem, Syria February 13, 2023. (Reuters)
A view shows damaged buildings in the aftermath of an earthquake, in opposition-held town of Harem, Syria February 13, 2023. (Reuters)
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Syria’s Health Workers Hit by Double Tragedy after Quake

A view shows damaged buildings in the aftermath of an earthquake, in opposition-held town of Harem, Syria February 13, 2023. (Reuters)
A view shows damaged buildings in the aftermath of an earthquake, in opposition-held town of Harem, Syria February 13, 2023. (Reuters)

While his wife and two daughters lay under the rubble after Syria's earthquake, Abdelbaset Khalil tended to hundreds of patients who flooded into his hospital.

Khalil, a nurse anaesthetist, was already at work when the 7.8-magnitude earthquake rocked Türkiye and Syria last week, flattening entire neighborhoods and leaving a combined death toll of more than 35,000, including at least 3,581 in Syria.

As the quake shook the ground beneath him, he rushed out of the hospital to find his apartment building had collapsed with his family inside.

Speechless and overwhelmed, the 50-year-old walked back to the hospital ward to an endless flow of patients and victims' bodies, including those of the hospital's administrative director and head nurse.

"I was tending to people in the hospital while my wife and daughter were under the rubble," Khalil told AFP in the city of Harim in the opposition-held Idlib province on the border with Türkiye.

"I could not do anything" to save his wife or daughters, he continued.

He carried on working through his grief, scrambling to help the countless wounded with few supplies and meager means.

The first day was "extremely trying and very hard", said Khalil. "It passed like 50 years."

On Wednesday, the bodies of his family members were recovered, leaving him sleepless and with a sense of "total helplessness", he said as he flipped through pictures of them on his phone.

His only solace was that he buried them in their hometown.

"I will always be able to visit."

'Catastrophic'

Shortly after the quake, ambulances rushed to Harim hospital which was quickly inundated with patients.

"It's a field hospital with modest and simple equipment," said general surgeon Mohamed al-Badr.

"It could accommodate no more than 30 patients."

He said the hospital was originally built to treat the wounded of Syria's long-running conflict, which broke out nearly 12 years ago.

"The situation was already so difficult that patients were often sleeping on the floors and in corridors."

Since Monday's disaster, the hospital has received about 2,500 wounded, of whom 390 died, according to orthopedic surgeon Hassan al-Hamdo.

"Multiple cases needed a CT scan but they're not available anywhere in the region," said Hamdo.

Supplies have been slow to arrive in war-torn Syria, where years of conflict have ravaged the healthcare system, especially in the opposition-held areas in the country's northwest.

In a Friday report, the International Rescue Committee warned of a public health breakdown in northwest Syria.

"Facilities are now running low on critical medical supplies such as serums, gauze bandages, painkillers, medical plasters and blood bags," it said.

Other urgent needs include fuel for generators and burial bags, it added, warning of worsening conditions due to the harsh weather and "freezing temperatures".

"Unless we get more funding, supplies and unrestricted humanitarian access urgently the results could be catastrophic," it said.

Calls for aid

In the border town of Salqin, Hassan Joulak, a specialist in orthopedic surgery, said his hospital was treating between 800 and 1,000 injured people, most of them with bone fractures.

"Fifteen minutes after the earthquake, the wounded began to arrive in large numbers, overwhelming the hospital's capacity," he said.

The challenges are not limited to opposition-held areas, as even in regime-controlled parts of Syria hospitals are critically short of skilled medics and proper equipment.

"Almost 50 percent of healthcare facilities are not functioning," according to Ahmed Al-Mandhari, the World Health Organization's regional director for the eastern Mediterranean.

"Those which are functioning are lacking equipment, lacking staff, lacking medications."

On Sunday, the United Nations denounced the failure to deliver desperately needed aid to Syria.

In the government-held coastal city of Jableh, five doctors were killed in the disaster and the city's only hospital was severely damaged, according to hospital head Mohamed al-Khalil.

Despite the lack of aid and its limited capacity, the hospital continues to operate, even as many medics "lost their homes", he said.



Lebanon's Public Schools Reopen amid War and Displacement

Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)
Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)
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Lebanon's Public Schools Reopen amid War and Displacement

Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)
Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)

In the quiet seaside town of Amchit, 45 minutes north of Beirut, public schools are finally in session again, alongside tens of thousands of internally displaced people who have made some of them a makeshift shelter.

As Israeli strikes on Lebanon escalated in September, hundreds of schools in Lebanon were either destroyed or closed due to damage or security concerns, according to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA).

Of around 1,250 public schools in Lebanon, 505 schools have also been turned into temporary shelters for some of the 840,000 people internally displaced by the conflict, according to the Lebanese education ministry.

Last month, the ministry started a phased reopening, allowing 175,000 students - 38,000 of whom are displaced - to return to a learning environment that is still far from normal, Reuters reported.

At Amchit Secondary Public School, which now has 300 enrolled students and expects more as displaced families keep arriving, the once-familiar spaces have transformed to accommodate new realities.

Two-and-a-half months ago, the school was chosen as a shelter, school director Antoine Abdallah Zakhia said.

Today, laundry hangs from classroom windows, cars fill the playground that was once a bustling area, and hallways that used to echo with laughter now serve as resting areas for families seeking refuge.

Fadia Yahfoufi, a displaced woman living temporarily at the school, expressed gratitude mixed with longing.

"Of course, we wish to go back to our homes. No one feels comfortable except at home," she said.

Zeina Shukr, another displaced mother, voiced her concerns for her children's education.

"This year has been unfair. Some children are studying while others aren't. Either everyone studies, or the school year should be postponed," she said.

- EDUCATION WON'T STOP

OCHA said the phased plan to resume classes will enrol 175,000 students, including 38,000 displaced children, across 350 public schools not used as shelters.

"The educational process is one of the aspects of resistance to the aggression Lebanon is facing," Education Minister Abbas Halabi told Reuters

Halabi said the decision to resume the academic year was difficult as many displaced students and teachers were not psychologically prepared to return to school.

In an adjacent building at Amchit Secondary Public School, teachers and students are adjusting to a compressed three-day week, with seven class periods each day to maximize learning time.

Nour Kozhaya, a 16-year-old Amchit resident, remains optimistic. "Lebanon is at war, but education won't stop. We will continue to pursue our dreams," she said.

Teachers are adapting to the challenging conditions.

"Everyone is mentally exhausted ... after all this war is on all of us," Patrick Sakr, a 38-year-old physics teacher, said.

For Ahmad Ali Hajj Hassan, a displaced 17-year-old from the Bekaa region, the three-day school week presents a challenge, but not a deterrent.

"These are the conditions. We can study despite them," he said.