Orphanage leader recounts evacuating young boy with cerebral palsy, tragically passes away shortly thereafter

Hazem Rahma, 39, serves as a director at Mubarrat Al Rehmat orphanage in Gaza City. Before October 7th, how was your life like?

Hailing from Rimal, an area within the confines of Gaza City, myself and my wife have been dedicated to working at the orphanage since its establishment in 2010. In pre-war times, our facility housed around 22 children – a diverse group primarily comprising those without familial connections and many of whom are afflicted with disabilities. These innocent souls often arrived at our doors upon birth from hospitals due to their families' inability to care for them. Among the wards, five adolescent girls over 18 still reside with us as they lack family support.

Coping has been a challenging endeavor since war broke out on October 7th. My wife and I were fortunate enough to remain at our post amidst chaos; we managed for some time, bolstered by solar-powered energy sources and access to water. However, the scarcity of food eventually became apparent, further compounded by encroaching bombings. The orphans exhibited signs of distress: uncontrollable sobbing, nighttime accidents, and overall anxiety pervaded their lives.

The Israeli authorities directed civilians to evacuate for safety, but no means were provided to transport the vulnerable children towards safer locations like Rafah or elsewhere. We faced a dire situation with our 12 disabled wards and minors of diminutive stature requiring significant care – fearing insufficient shelter options at UN-affiliated shelters for their special needs. The bombing that destroyed the adjacent mosque exacerbated matters; windows shattered, facilities like the playroom and kitchen were damaged, leaving our three remaining safe rooms as havens amidst the destruction.

Decision to evacuate was made in December post-bombardment due to the absence of viable alternatives. With no choice but to rely on neighbors for assistance, we managed a precarious journey towards southern Gaza City with our charges, all while under constant barrage from artillery shelling.

The transition wasn't without its difficulties – carrying Iyas, a five-year-old boy afflicted with cerebral palsy and sensory impairments, alongside my six-year-old son during our escape was harrowing. My wife and children struggled to keep pace due to the restrictions imposed by Israeli forces, resulting in their confinement within Gaza City's precincts.

Our initial refuge lay in Khan Younis, a temporary location that offered little respite as we were caught up in further shellings. Tragically, Iyas succumbed to infections during our stay there due to the unavailability of his medication amidst medical shortages – an event deeply mourned by all.

Subsequently relocating to al-Mawasi did little to assuage fears as it too came under attack, despite being declared a "safe zone" by Israeli authorities. Our living conditions there are far from ideal but more tolerable compared to many in the region – with volunteers offering aid and essential supplies like clean clothing for our charges.

Our current challenge lies primarily in securing sustenance: food supplies, particularly milk formula and diapers, remain scarce resources that command a hefty price tag. Financial obstacles persist as Egypt demands $6000 per child for relocation while negotiations with the Libyan government to facilitate their departure were thwarted by geopolitical tensions.

The orphanage has also welcomed three new wards: Malek, a mere three months old; Yazan and Yaffa – two-month-old siblings suffering from Down's syndrome respectively. Little is known about their origins or families since they were surrendered to us by hospitals post-war trauma. Despite the uncertainty surrounding their familial ties, we aspire to provide these children with a sense of belonging and love in our care for as long as needed – embodying resilience amid adversity.