As Hamed Abu Zerka stands next to his six-month-old daughter’s hospital bed, the fluorescent lights of Adana City Training and Research Hospital cast a harsh shadow over his gaunt face.
As he adjusts Habiba’s blanket, the 34-year-old’s weathered hands tremble.
As Israel laid siege on Gaza, Abdullah, his four-and-a-half-year-old son, passed away on Tuesday morning in this same room, his small, unweight body finally succumbing to malnutrition.
When a video of Abdullah, the clearly malnourished child screaming in hunger and begging for food as his mother wept helplessly, went viral, the family became symbols of the Israel-imposed famine that impacted Gaza’s 2.1 million people.
Their story attracted the attention of the world, which led to the medical evacuation that appeared to be a miracle but arrived too late for Abdullah.
Basma Abu Zerka, 30, is seated in a corner and carries a small amount of her son’s clothing. She silently sobs and speaks little.
“We lost the child,” he said. Hamed speaks in a raw voice, “living through tremendous pain.”
Hamed blatantly describes the agony of watching his children go unnoticed.
His voice screams as he recalls how impossible it was to find a single tomato in Gaza’s final weeks.
“There isn’t even clean drinking water there,” the statement read. There are falling bombs, hunger, and death all over.
Hamed keeps his eyes on his daughter, “Abdullah and Habiba needed urgent treatment.”
They “weren’t getting any smaller or weaker every day.”
Turkish officials worked diplomatically to evict the family from Turkiye as part of a humanitarian initiative funded by the Foreign Ministry.
However, Abdullah’s failing body couldn’t afford the lengthy process.
Turkish authorities contacted us and stayed with us until we arrived, Hamed claims.
“We thank everyone who helped us,” we say. However, we arrived with infants who already possessed ghosts of their own.
Both children had previously left Gaza on a flight to Adana. Abdullah likely had no idea of the journey because she was only just getting started. Habiba, who is younger and more resilient, wept lukewarm during takeoff.
Medical conflict with time
Medical staff at Adana Hospital recognized the severity of the children’s conditions.
Abdullah arrived with serious complications brought on by prolonged malnourishment, including organ dysfunction, immune system collapse, and developmental delays that spanned months of inadequate nutrition.
Although the Abu Zerka siblings’ conditions shocked even the most experienced medical staff, the hospital’s chief of paediatric intensive care treated numerous children who had been evacuated from conflict-stricken areas.
He explains that “these kids frequently arrive with damage that has been growing for months.”
Medical teams monitored Abdullah’s vital organs while working around the clock to save him, putting together specialized nutrition therapy, treating severe dehydration, and keeping an eye on their vital organs.
The boy’s body, which had been suffering for months, was unable to eat.
Nurse Ayse Demir, who had a final relationship with Abdullah, recalls that he was “so small.” We couldn’t undo what months of starvation had done to his tiny body, according to the statement from the manufacturer.
According to the UN, over 90% of Gaza’s population is severely undernourished, with children particularly vulnerable to malnutrition-related complications.
Defending Habiba
Habiba, age six, battles her brother’s battle and loses.
Her small frame, which is visible under translucent skin, arms like twigs, and eyes that seem too large for her face, alludes to the story of persistent hunger.
Her recovery prospects are cautiously optimistic, with doctors noting that her younger age may have protected her from some of the more serious complications.
Her parents keep a vigil that combines mourning and hope, with her parents sleuthing as she sleeps in chairs next to her bed and consuming hospital meals while reliving her Gaza-bound family meals.
The couple is unsure of what will follow. Their ability to return to Gaza depends on Habiba’s recovery and the state of their respective countries. They must process their loss while being far removed from extended families, cultural customs, and the familiarity that typically brings them comfort during a time of mourning.
Locals who had never met the child but who understood the language of parental loss attended the quiet ceremony where Abdullah was laid in the Gulbahcesi neighborhood cemetery in Adana.
Turkish neighbors respectfully sat next to the grieving family as Imam Mehmet Tasci led the prayers in Arabic.
Hamed says, “We buried our son in a foreign land,” completely deafening. He “should have spent his entire life playing with neighborhood kids, learning from his grandmother’s prayers, and running through Gaza’s streets.” His grave is located thousands of kilometers away from everyone who ought to have watched him grow.
The Palestinian family receives meals and emotional support from neighborhood mosque leaders and Turkish families, both of whom have established ongoing relationships with them.
Survival costs are high.
People ask when we’ll return home, Hamed says. “But how do you go back to a place where you watched your kids gobble up?” How do you return to the rooms where your son cried for food that was unavailable?
Since the start of the conflict, Turkiye has been one of the most active nations for facilitating medical evacuations for Gaza patients. Since then, hundreds of Palestinians have been treated in Turkish hospitals.
However, according to the World Health Organization, only a small percentage of Gaza residents who needed medical evacuation have been allowed to leave.
Abdullah Abu Zerka spent four and a half years living, the majority of it during World War II. His parents are grieving his loss today while attempting to save the child who is still alive.
Source: Aljazeera
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