Al-Nuseirat refugee camp in the Middle Area of Gaza during Israel bombardments on Saturday 8 June 2024. Photo by MSF

From Gaza: “We did not have time to bury them”

Alison Barrett
Hazem Maloh
Wednesday, June 12, 2024

Gaza conflict, Death and dying, Trauma, Asylum seeker and refugee health, Conflict and war, Global health, Human rights, Public health

Introduction by Croakey: Médecins Sans Frontières calls for the immediate implementation of the latest ceasefire resolution passed by the United Nations Security Council on 10 June 2024.

“Failure to do so will cost more lives and be yet another stain on the collective conscience,” the humanitarian aid organisation said in a statement on 11 June.

The fourth such resolution adopted by the Security Council since 7 October 2024 follows another deadly Israeli attack on Gaza over the past weekend, killing at least 274 Palestinians as four Israeli hostages were freed. Since the beginning of June, more than 800 people have been killed and over 2,400 wounded in intense bombing and ground offensives by Israeli forces in the Gaza Strip.

Below, Dr Hazem Maloh, a doctor who has been working with MSF since 2013, recounts the terror of the weekend attacks. The account has been republished here with permission by MSF Australia.

Médecins Sans Frontières introduces the article by stating that on the morning of Saturday, 8 June 2024, Israeli forces heavily bombed the Middle Area of the Gaza Strip, including Al-Nuseirat refugee camp.

MSF teams, along with medical staff at Al-Aqsa and Nasser hospitals, treated hundreds of severely injured patients, many of whom were women and children.

MSF writes that: “One of our colleagues, who has been working as a medical doctor with MSF since 2013 and lives in Al-Nuseirat camp, recalls that horrific and traumatising day when he lost many of his friends and neighbours.”

Hazem Maloh writes:

On the day of the attacks, I lived through three hours of real terror and fear. For one endless hour I did not know where my eldest son was. He went to the market, and in a few minutes, everything had turned upside down. Minutes felt like hours.

There were sounds of missiles and explosions everywhere. We didn’t know what was happening.

Everyone was screaming and running away in every direction. We could hear the sirens from the ambulances. It felt as if it was the end of the world.

I stood up to see if my son had come back and I realised he had left his phone at home. I went to the street screaming, “Where is my son? Where is my son?”

My family tried to get me back into the house. I screamed so much that I lost my voice.

One hour later, my son arrived home. The sight of fear and terror on his face… I have never seen this on a human being. He was barely able to speak. He said, “Dad, people have been blown into pieces! Children, women… why is it like this, Dad?”

I hugged him and cried and cried. For the first time, I felt weak.

After that, I went to Al-Awda clinic, in Deir al Balah, which is only a few metres away from my home. I saw dozens and dozens of people lying on the ground. Some of them were dead, others injured. One ambulance arrived carrying three people who had been killed and four others who were wounded. My eyes were full of tears.

One of my colleagues called me. His brother had been hit by shrapnel in the back. He told me he was throwing up blood. He kept asking what he should do. But what could I do? There was no ambulance available. I told him to tie a piece of cloth around the wound to pressure the injury, and to pray for him that he stays alive.

Dozens of people were killed. We did not have time to bury them.

Many were my neighbours, friends or relatives. Men, women, children.

Raneem, who was the daughter of one of my close friends, and her father, were both killed. She was preparing herself to study medicine in Egypt. Last time I saw her, she smiled at me and asked, “Uncle, will MSF recruit me once I complete my studies?”

Mahmoud was a great young man, too. He used to help me a lot in the garden with the planting and farming. The day before he got killed, he picked up the wood in front of the house and set a fire to cook noodles for his children. He told me, “You know, now I make noodles better than Maqluba [a famous Palestinian dish].” Mahmoud was also killed on Saturday.

Rami was a simple fisherman. The day before the attack he said to me, “Be ready, we will go back and swim in the sea again once the war is over.” Rami was also killed.

The list is too long… and I will never see any of them again.

**The author initially chose to be anonymous when this article was first published, but then asked to be identified.