Air raids, bombings, and snipers target hospitals and doctors in an increasingly brutal war. By Emma Beals.
In Aleppo, where front lines weave across crowded areas where civilians live and work, British doctor Saleyha Ahran remembers “the smell of burning flesh” when a clinic in Reef Aleppo where she worked was hit by what she believes was an incendiary device, further injuring about 40 patients who were being treated for other wounds and ills. “It burned the clothes off their back, that blast,” said Ahran.
The
World Health Organization estimates that, in the course of the
two-and-a-half-year conflict, more than a third of Syria's hospitals
have been destroyed. In the course of September alone, the government
air force bombarded the hospital in Al Bab in the north of the country,
killing 11 civilians, including a doctor.
In Deir Ezzour,
a city in the eastern part of the country, just one of the city’s two
hospitals is still standing. But it may not be for long. Running on
power from a generator, it is constantly mortared and is a frequent
target of airstrikes.
But
attacks also include targeted killings committed by the rebels. Earlier
in the month, Dr. Muhammad Abyad, a 28-year-old surgeon working in a
hospital in Aleppo was killed. The Syrian Observatory of Human Rights, a
group affiliated with the opposition, blamed the al Qaeda–linked rebel
group the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS)
for his death. "ISIS killed the young doctor Mohamed Abyad after his
abduction on Monday at dawn in Sejou village, where he was working,” the
group said in a statement.
Abyad's
death is not an isolated incident. Since the beginning of the conflict
in early 2011, at least 20 Red Crescent volunteers have been killed, in
some cases by sniper fire, while attending to the wounded or delivering
medical supplies.
In a special report
last week, the United Nations observed that the “denial of medical care
as a weapon of war is a distinct and chilling reality of the war in
Syria.”
The
report documents how government forces have led what appears to be a
deliberate and systematic campaign of attacks on hospitals throughout
the country. Doctors have been arrested and tortured after treating
those injured during fighting.
“Government
forces deny medical care to those from opposition-controlled and
affiliated areas as a matter of policy,” the report states.
The
report also blames rebels for the violence, but to a lesser degree.
“Anti-Government armed groups have also attacked medical facilities,”
says the report, citing an attack last year on the National Hospital in
Homs city, during which no attempt allegedly were made to “avoid
civilian casualties or to protect the sick and wounded,” the report
said.
“The
targeted attacks on medical facilities and personnel are deliberate and
systematic, not an inevitable nor acceptable consequence of armed
conflict,” read a recent open letter in the medical journal The Lancet.
The open letter, which was signed by 55 doctors and medics, including
two Nobel laureates, was an appeal for “medical neutrality,” which
requires medical professionals to treat anyone in need to the best of
their ability.
Peter
Kassig, a medic who works in Deir Ez Zour, a city in central Syria
where clashes have been ongoing, recently witnessed how some medical
professionals abide by this code—even under the most challenging
circumstances. For a long time, a government sniper had been taking
shots at everyone who passed over the single bridge in and out of the
city, but during one battle, the sniper was badly injured and rushed to
the hospital where Kassig works.
The sniper’s leg was amputated, but doctors at the hospital, some of whom had had family members who had been killed by the sniper, “worked silently through it all and saved his life.”
The sniper’s leg was amputated, but doctors at the hospital, some of whom had had family members who had been killed by the sniper, “worked silently through it all and saved his life.”
Because
of the near-constant attacks and strain on medical facilities in Deir
Ez Zour, secret field hospitals have been set up. Those who sustain
life-threatening injuries, however, are evacuated to Turkey, a drive
that can take more than 12 hours and carries with it enormous risks for
patients and medics alike.
In
Aleppo, at another field clinic run by the Syrian Red Crescent and the
Syrian American Medical Service, doctors have taken shelter with their
patients on the first and second floors. The third floor is within the
line of a sniper position and the shooters aim directly at the hospital,
its staff, and patients. Medics sleep at the hospital, and one doctor
hasn’t been home to see his family in more than eight months. Most
patients have serious trauma injuries or have had arms or legs
amputated. And since doctors can’t access a regular blood bank, the
fridge in the staff’s break room is used to store bags of blood.
Abu
Muhammadeen, one of the surgeons, said the hospital is critically
understaffed. “The first challenge is the number of surgeons,” he said.
“There aren’t enough, and we suffer from fatigue.” In Syria’s largest
city, Aleppo, which has more than 2 million inhabitants, there were more
than 5,000 doctors before the war.
Now, with doctors having been targeted or having fled, and with no one being educated into their ranks, only 36 remain.
Now, with doctors having been targeted or having fled, and with no one being educated into their ranks, only 36 remain.
There, as elsewhere, the health-care system has been brought to its knees, despite the heroic efforts of doctors and medics.
“I
really [feel] for my colleagues,” says Ahran, the British doctor.
“They've kept something going on their own. I admire and respect them.”
No comments:
Post a Comment