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Middle East Eye
15-07-2025
- Health
- Middle East Eye
'Biggest disaster': Gaza infants' lives at risk amid fuel shortages
Palestinian infants reliant on incubators in Gaza are fighting for their lives amid a critical fuel shortage, exacerbated by Israel's increasingly stringent blockade on aid and essential supplies. For several days, hospitals and humanitarian agencies in Gaza have issued urgent appeals for international intervention to secure fuel deliveries, as shortages continue to paralyse vital services for over two million Palestinians. Multiple healthcare centres have warned that operations may grind to a halt, with Israel maintaining restrictions on fuel entering the besieged territory, further straining an already overwhelmed healthcare system. Mohammed Tabaja, head of the paediatric ward at al-Helou Hospital in Gaza City, said the facility is '100 per cent dependent on the generator'. His department is responsible for the intensive care of newborns weighing less than 1.5 kilograms, as well as infants suffering from oxygen deprivation and congenital abnormalities, all of whom require uninterrupted electricity. New MEE newsletter: Jerusalem Dispatch Sign up to get the latest insights and analysis on Israel-Palestine, alongside Turkey Unpacked and other MEE newsletters 'We have a problem in the nursery ward: there is no uninterruptible power supply (UPS). The motor shuts down every two hours due to the fuel shortage. When that happens, the electricity cuts out,' he explained, noting that the hospital currently relies entirely on generators. 'This impacts the babies' lives, as we must restart the ventilators and CPAP [continuous positive airway pressure] machines, all of which require electricity. We've been requesting a UPS for three months, but there are no batteries available in Gaza,' he told MEE. Incubators in the ward are still operating, however, the paediatric department is severely overcrowded, with 12 incubators used for at least 22 cases - an occupancy rate exceeding 180 percent (MEE/Ahmed Dremly) Tabaja said that while the incubators in the ward remain operational for now, the department is severely overcrowded and operating beyond capacity, with 12 incubators being used for at least 22 cases, an occupancy rate of more than 180 percent. The paediatric specialist notes a significant increase in premature births and underweight infants as a consequence of the ongoing war. He explained that the extreme stress of the situation has led to growing levels of malnutrition among pregnant women, resulting in a higher incidence of premature deliveries. 'The department faces persistent issues with oxygen, air, and electricity supplies, all of which directly affect the lives of the children. Last month and the month before, we lost infants due to these shortages,' he said. 'Our fear is that we will reach the point where there's no electricity' - Mohammed Tabaja, head paediatric, al-Helou Hospital 'Fuel is critical, as electricity is not available 24 hours a day. We do not have an oxygen generator and instead rely on manually operated oxygen cylinders. "This places an enormous burden on staff and creates further shortages. If a cylinder runs out, it could endanger a child's life,' he added. Dr Ziad al-Masry, a fellow paediatrician at al-Helou Hospital, warned that the lives of 22 infants are currently at risk due to the fuel shortage, which has caused power outages that disrupt artificial respiration and modern monitoring systems. 'Without this equipment, caring for the children becomes extremely difficult - and in some cases, impossible - as many are directly connected to ventilators,' he said. In a joint statement issued on Sunday, municipal authorities in central and southern Gaza announced the suspension of essential public services due to what they described as 'the complete interruption of fuel' required to operate vital equipment. The halted services include 'water well operations, sanitation, waste collection, rubble removal, and the use of heavy machinery to open roads. 'The occupation's continued refusal to allow the entry of fuel, despite repeated appeals, has brought municipal services to a standstill, even as local authorities attempt to maintain a minimum level of operations under extraordinary circumstances,' the statement concluded. Manual intervention and lack of aid Last week, the UN confirmed that Israel permitted a limited shipment of fuel into Gaza, the first in over four months. However, the 75,000-litre delivery was far from sufficient, failing to cover even a single day's needs. Moreover, Israel has been severely limiting the flow of life-saving aid delivery into the besieged enclave - including nutritional relief and medical supplies. Why Israel is waging war on Palestinian children Read More » Tabaja said that the paediatric ward is facing critical shortages of oxygen, compressed air, electricity, infant formula, and nappies. 'The Ministry of Health used to provide eight nappies per child per day. Now we receive just one or two, meaning we're forced to keep a child in the same nappy for 24 hours," he explained. "Our fear is that we will reach the point where there's no electricity supply for the department at all, and that would be the biggest disaster," he added. Masry echoed the urgent need for essential supplies to enter Gaza. He stated that repeated requests for fuel had been made to international organisations, including Medecins Sans Frontieres (Doctors Without Borders), but to no avail. 'The siege has only worsened over the past two months. No fuel or baby formula has reached our hospital in nearly four months.' Due to the fuel crisis, the paediatric unit has been forced to increase staffing and rely on manual respiratory support to keep newborns alive, a method he stressed is not a substitute for mechanical ventilation. "We are relying on manual intervention until fuel is restored, and this has had a significant impact on the lives of the infants."
Middle East Eye
28-06-2025
- General
- Middle East Eye
‘My journey to get aid in Gaza was like Squid Game'
Editor's note: The following personal account of Yousef al-Ajouri, 40, was told to Palestinian journalist and MEE contributor Ahmed Dremly in Gaza City. It has been edited for brevity and clarity. My children cry all the time because of how hungry they are. They want bread, rice - anything to eat. Not long ago, I had stockpiles of flour and other food supplies. It's all run out. We now rely on meals distributed by charity kitchens, usually lentils. But it's not enough to satisfy the hunger of my children. I live with my wife, seven children, and my mother and father in a tent in al-Saraya, near the middle of Gaza City. New MEE newsletter: Jerusalem Dispatch Sign up to get the latest insights and analysis on Israel-Palestine, alongside Turkey Unpacked and other MEE newsletters Our home in Jabalia refugee camp was completely destroyed during the Israeli army's invasion of northern Gaza in October 2023. Before the war, I was a taxi driver. But due to shortages in fuel, and the Israeli blockade, I had to stop working. I hadn't gone to receive aid packages at all since the war started, but the hunger situation is unbearable now. So I decided I would go to the American-backed Gaza Humanitarian Foundation aid distribution centre on Salah al-Din Road, near the Netzarim corridor. I heard that it's dangerous and people were getting killed and injured, but I made the decision to go anyway. Someone told me that if you go once every seven days, you might get enough supplies to feed your family for that week. Dark and deadly route It was around 9pm on 18 June when I heard men in the next tent preparing to head out to the aid centre. I told my neighbour in the next tent, Khalil Hallas, aged 35, that I wanted to join. Khalil told me to get ready by wearing loose clothes, so that I could run and be agile. He said to bring a bag or sack for carrying canned and packaged goods. Due to overcrowding, no one was able to carry the boxes the aid came in. My wife Asma, 36, and my daughter Duaa, 13, encouraged me to make the journey. They'd seen in the news that women were going to get aid too, and wanted to join me. I told them it was too dangerous. I saw at least six other martyrs lying on the ground I set off with five other men from my camp, including an engineer and a teacher. For some of us, it was the first time making the trip. We rode in a tuk-tuk - the only means of transport in southern Gaza, along with donkey and horse-drawn carts - with a total of 17 passengers. It included children aged 10 and 12. A young man in the vehicle, who had made the trip before, told us not to take the official route designated by the Israeli army. He said it was too crowded and we wouldn't receive any aid. He advised us to take an alternative route not far from the official path. The tuk-tuk dropped us off in Nuseirat, in central Gaza, and from there we walked around a kilometre towards Salah al-Din Road. The journey was extremely difficult - and dark. We couldn't use any flashlights, or else we would attract the attention of Israeli snipers or military vehicles. Palestinians gather at an aid distribution point in the Bureij refugee camp in central Gaza on 9 June 2025 (AFP/Eyad Baba) There were some exposed, open areas, which we crossed by crawling across the ground. As I crawled, I looked over, and to my surprise, saw several women and elderly people taking the same treacherous route as us. At one point, there was a barrage of live gunfire all around me. We hid behind a destroyed building. Anyone who moved or made a noticeable motion was immediately shot by snipers. Next to me was a tall, light-haired young man using the flashlight on his phone to guide him. The others yelled at him to turn it off. Seconds later, he was shot. He collapsed to the ground and lay there bleeding, but no one could help or move him. He died within minutes. Some nearby men eventually covered the man's body with the empty bag he had brought to fill up with canned goods. I saw at least six other martyrs lying on the ground. I also saw wounded people walking back in the opposite direction. One man was bleeding after falling and injuring his hand in the rough terrain. I fell a few times too. I was terrified, but there was no turning back. I'd already passed the most dangerous areas, and now the aid centre was within sight. We were all afraid. But we were there to feed our hungry children. Fighting for food It was coming up to 2am, which is when I was told access to the aid centre is granted. Sure enough, moments later, a large green light lit up the centre in the distance, signalling that it was open. People started running towards it from every direction. I ran as fast as I could. I was shocked by the massive crowd. I'd risked my life to get closer to the front, and yet, thousands had somehow arrived before me. I started questioning how they got there. Palestinians line up to receive a hot meal at a food distribution point in Gaza City on 27 June 2025 (AFP/Bashar Taleb) Were they working with the military? Were they collaborators, allowed to reach the aid first and take whatever they wanted? Or had they simply taken the same, if not even greater, risks that we had? I tried to push forward, but I couldn't. The centre was no longer visible because of the size of the crowds. People were pushing and shoving, but I decided I had to make it through - for my children. I took my shoes off, put them in my bag, and began forcing my way through. There were people on top of me, and I was on top of others. I noticed a girl being suffocated under the feet of the crowds. I grabbed her hand and pushed her out. I started feeling around for the aid boxes and grabbed a bag that felt like rice. But just as I did, someone else snatched it from my hands. Some begged others to share. But no one could afford to give up what they managed to get I tried to hold on, but he threatened to stab me with his knife. Most people there were carrying knives, either to defend themselves or to steal from others. Eventually, I managed to grab four cans of beans, a kilogram of bulgur, and half a kilogram of pasta. Within moments, the boxes were empty. Most of the people there, including women, children and the elderly, got nothing. Some begged others to share. But no one could afford to give up what they managed to get. Even the empty cartons and wooden pallets were taken, to be used as firewood for cooking. Those who got nothing started picking up spilled flour and grains from the ground, trying to salvage what had fallen during the chaos. Soldiers watched and laughed I turned my head and saw soldiers, maybe 10 or 20 metres away. They were talking to each other, using their phones, and filming us. Some were aiming weapons at us. I remembered a scene from the South Korean TV show Squid Game, in which killing was entertainment - a game. We were being killed not only by their weapons but also by hunger and humiliation, while they watched us and laughed. I started wondering: were they still filming us? Were they watching this madness, seeing how some people overpowered others, while the weakest got nothing? We left the area just as the boxes had emptied. People carrying sacks of flour walk past a water puddle along al-Rashid street in western Jabalia on 17 June 2025 (AFP/Bashar Taleb) Minutes later, red smoke grenades were thrown into the air. Someone told me that it was the signal to evacuate the area. After that, heavy gunfire began. Me, Khalil and a few others headed to al-Awda Hospital in Nuseirat because our friend Wael had injured his hand during the journey. I was shocked by what I saw at the hospital. There were at least 35 martyrs lying dead on the ground in one of the rooms. A doctor told me they had all been brought in that same day. They were each shot in the head or chest while queuing near the aid centre. Their families were waiting for them to come home with food and ingredients. Now, they were corpses. I started to break down, thinking about these families. I thought to myself: why are we being forced to die just to feed our children? At that moment, I decided that I would never journey to those places again. A slow death We walked back in silence, and I arrived home at around 7:30am on Thursday morning. My wife and children were waiting for me, hoping that I was safe and alive, and that I'd brought back food. They were upset when they saw I'd returned with barely anything. It was the hardest day of my life. I've never felt humiliation like I did that day. I hope food can get through soon and be distributed in a respectful way, without humiliation and killing. The current system is chaotic and deadly. I don't even care if the war keeps going - what matters is that food gets through There's no justice in it. Most end up with nothing, because there's no organised system and there's too little aid for too many people. I'm certain Israel wants this chaos to continue. They claim this method is best because, otherwise, Hamas takes the aid. But I'm not Hamas, and many, many others aren't either. Why should we suffer? Why should we be denied aid unless we risk our lives to get it? At this point, I don't even care if the war keeps going - what matters is that food gets through, so we can eat. My son, Yousef, is three years old. He wakes up crying, saying he wants to eat. We have nothing to give him. He keeps crying until he gets tired and falls silent. I eat one meal a day, or sometimes nothing at all, so the children can eat. This isn't life. This is a slow death.
