Història 6 de Roo 7

The night of the hospital:

A sole night spent at the hospital was enough to realize that dying under the rubble of our home was much easier than staying only for a few hours at the hospital. The plan was to head to the hospital on foot as a first stop so we can find some cars to take us to the supposedly safe south.

I gathered all my 19 family members in one of the hallways of the hospital so I can go find some cars to drop us off at the supposedly safe south, without having to worry about leaving them out in the street. Little did I know that we would be spending the night in that tiny corridor designed as a walking passage way in which you can barely sit.

I left the hospital to look for two to three cars. What an idiot! Even he who finds one car would be lucky, yet here I was looking for three.

After much turmoil and an exhausting, ongoing search under the burning sun, feeling thirsty and fatigued, I found one small car that holds the driver and three passengers. I begged him to take us to the south. He said he would drop us off as passengers only without any bags, for the price of 100 Shekels per rider.

I stood in total shock.

Then I affirmed: “The ride is 6 Shekels per person, how did it now become 100? What is this exploitation? Isn’t it enough that we are showered with pieces of death? You, too? What is wrong with you?”

He said: “Brother, I have a family just like you and this car is my only source of income. If I take you, I will use this money to buy basic necessities for my family for I don’t know what awaits me in the south or if I will come back alive. Don’t consider this exploitation, please see it as survival for my family and I.”

I looked at him with forgiveness and compassion, and I was speechless.

I finally said: “May God bless you and be with you.”

I went back to my family at the hospital, feeling completely helpless with my inability to procure cars to get us to the so-called safety. When my wife, father, brother, and sisters-in-law saw me like this, they reassured me and noted that God may not want us to go to the south, after all. My wife held my hand and said: “Take it easy. You are not the only one responsible for our safety here. We are all in this together. Rest now, my love, and God will show us the way.”

We decided to spend the night at this hallway. This hallway is barely good to pass through; you can’t even sit, let alone sleep. We stuck to the walls to allow pedestrians to pass. That night, we saw all types of injured victims who lost legs and arms, and had bleeding heads, and many more tragedies and pains. If I myself couldn’t tolerate these scenes, how could I expect our children to do so?! How do I protect my children from exposure to all this madness? The impact of this particular night will forever be in our children’s memories and I, a trauma psychologist, am clueless on how to handle that if we were destined to survive this brutal aggression. For now, I have to figure out a way to boost our chances of survival. But how?

I stood by the window that overlooks the registration desk at the hospital, looking for some fresh air. The building was so over crowded that the air was polluted with the smells and breaths of people: their sweat, food, and the dirty bathrooms… all these odours and more in this building we sought refuge in. We have no place except this hallway. Where could we go?

When I looked out of the window، the aggressors had committed a new massacre near the hospital, destroying a house over its residents. I saw the martyrs being laid out on the floor of the registration area, being readied for transport to the tent of the dead, a space you can barely call a tent! I saw human parts and blood. I saw the chopped legs and beheaded bodies. I saw all this with my own eyes. I wept and wept and wept until I had no breath left. Smelling all the foul odours inside the hospital was much easier than watching outside this window.

I don’t recall how this night ended, nor do I want to know. It’s over and we are not going to the hospital again.

With the first light of the second day, my wife told me: “Come on, let’s go to our home; we can’t take it anymore.” Then the entire family asked to go back home and that they had enough.

We went back home knowing fully well that we are walking back to death. But this time, we are content with what will happen to us and are leaving our fate to God, for He is our saviour and protector. We find solace in knowing we had done all we can to stay out of the house, but all in vain.

We are at our home now and will not leave. With the sunrise of every new day, we pray in thanks to God for the gift of being alive.

‏Roo7 – Anonymous Mental Health Professional (for fear of being targeted, although I don’t know if he is still alive since all communication were cut off yesterday)

‏28 October 2023