KHUZAA, Gaza Strip: Each Friday, volunteer medic Asmaa Qudih goes through a tense ritual: She prays, kisses her mother’s hand and packs a bag with medical supplies as she heads off to work at the weekly mass protests along Gaza’s border fence with Israel.
Treating the wounded has become dangerous for Gaza’s emergency workers. In the past five months, three medics were killed by Israeli army fire, while dozens more, including Qudih, were hurt by live fire or tear gas canisters.
Qudih, 35, says the weekly routine is terrifying, but that national pride, religious devotion and professional ambition drive her and other medics to risk their lives.
“As long as you go to work in the field, you expect at any time to get injured or killed,” she said on a recent Friday as she prepared to head to the frontier.
Before leaving home, she inspected her red backpack, filled with bandages, sticky tape and the saline spray that soothes the effects of tear gas on the eyes and skin. She hugged her young nieces and nephews, and then solemnly kissed her mother farewell.
“She goes against my will,” said her mother, Fatma, as she showered Qudih with blessings. “But this is her decision.”
In the latest violence, witnesses said volunteer paramedic Shorouq Msameh was shot in the back Friday while standing about 300 meters (yards) from a fence during a protest east of Rafah as demonstrators tried to launch a burning tire toward Israeli territory. Msameh, who was wearing a white coat marking her as a medic, was listed in critical condition at a hospital in nearby Khan Younis.
The plight of Gaza’s medics lies at the heart of a debate over Israel’s use of force in the protests. European and UN officials, along with international rights groups, accuse Israel of using excessive force, citing the large numbers of civilian casualties, including medical workers. The UN and World Health Organization have both said Israel is obligated to allow medics to work safely.
Israel says it does not intentionally target medics and even tries to protect them but accuses militants of mixing in with the crowds. Last month, Israel said a Palestinian nurse from the group Doctors Without Borders tried to carry out a late-night cross-border shooting attack on Israeli troops. Israel apparently killed the man, but has not revealed details.
Qudih never planned to work at the protests, which are aimed in part at trying to break a blockade of Gaza imposed by Israel and Egypt to weaken the ruling Islamic militant group Hamas. The marches, led by Hamas but also driven by the desperation of Gaza residents over blockade-linked hardships, typically take place on Fridays along a perimeter fence.
On March 30, the day of the first march, Qudih walked about half an hour from her home in the southern town of Abassan to the nearest protest site to watch.
She saw thousands of Palestinians marching close to the frontier, burning tires and hurling rocks and firebombs in the direction of Israeli soldiers, including snipers behind earthen mounds on the other side of the fence. Soldiers responded with live fire and tear gas.
Fifteen people, mostly young men, were killed that day, and hundreds more were badly wounded. Protesters and medics struggled to evacuate the wounded, in many cases carrying them “improperly and hastily” to ambulances or private cars, she recalled.
Noticing the shortage of paramedics, Qudih volunteered as an emergency responder.
“Seeing the injured in front of me gave me the courage to provide them the needed service,” she said.
The job has proved to be dangerous. In five months of marches, 125 Palestinians have been killed and about 4,500 others have been wounded by gunfire, according to Gaza health officials and rights groups. Palestinian officials say the vast majority were unarmed.
Among the dead have been three paramedics, including Razan Najjar, a 21-year-old woman who also worked as a volunteer with Qudih in the Khuzaa protest camp. All wore white or fluorescent uniforms identifying themselves as medics.
Witnesses said Najjar had just helped treat a protester when she was shot in the chest. Qudih, who did not see it, said word spread quickly among her colleagues.
“We collected ourselves and hurried to the hospital, all the medics,” she said. “There was big pain and shock.”
At least 100 medical workers have been injured by gunshots, shrapnel and direct hits from tear gas canisters, according to Al-Mezan, a leading Gaza-based rights group. Rescuers typically walk slowly, their hands raised, when approaching the border to treat the wounded.
“They noticeably target the medical crews recently,” Qudih alleged.
Qudih herself was hit with a tear gas canister dropped from a drone on May 14, the most violent day of the marches, in which about 60 Palestinians were killed. The canister knocked her unconscious and she was briefly hospitalized to have her head stitched up.
After Najjar, a friend and neighbor, was killed, Qudih decided to work at a field hospital, far from the front lines, for three weeks. And if she felt in danger, “we would step back a little or hide ourselves behind a sand hill,” she said.
She once scolded her young nephews when she saw them at a protest. “Later, I felt embarrassed because the place was full of people and I looked as if caring for our children only.”
Her brother Loai initially objected to her going but eventually gave up. “This is who she is,” he said.
On a recent Friday, it didn’t take long for Qudih to see action. Dozens of protesters ventured toward the border fence and set tires ablaze as Israeli forces responded with volleys of tear gas and occasional live fire.
Qudih, wearing a medical coat over her full-body Islamic gown, moved quickly to treat the wounded. She darted to the front lines, sprinkling saline on people lying on the ground until paramedics carried them away. When the acrid smoke cleared, she removed her medical mask and wiped her face with tissues.
Israel accuses Hamas of using the protests as cover to carry out attacks and says it is defending its border from infiltration attempts. One Israeli soldier has been killed by a Gaza sniper.
But Israel has come under heavy criticism because of the large number of unarmed protesters who have been shot. It came under similar criticism during a 2014 war with Hamas in which 11 paramedics were killed and 24 ambulances destroyed, according to Al-Mezan.
In a statement, the Israel army denied targeting medical workers but said they operate very close to the fence “and are often mixed between those carrying out attacks and those acting violently.”
It said commanders “repeatedly and emphatically” ordered their troops to avoid harming medical workers. It said troops generally stop their activities when medical personnel near the border, even though this can heighten risks to soldiers by allowing Hamas militants to approach.
“Nevertheless, despite these efforts, unintended harm to medical personnel may have been unavoidable in such volatile, challenging and chaotic situations,” it said, adding that the deaths of medical personnel are being investigated.
Professional medics from the Health Ministry, Civil Defense and the Palestinian Red Crescent Society provide most of the care. But trainees and unpaid volunteers like Qudih have played supporting roles because of the many injured, Al-Mezan said.
Being unemployed, Qudih said she hopes health officials will offer her a job. Unemployment in Gaza is close to 50 percent. But she said her main motivation is her “national and religious duty” — and to remember her friend, Razan Najjar.
“We continue our volunteer work here in great part as an honor to Razan,” she said.
At Gaza protests, medical workers face great danger
At Gaza protests, medical workers face great danger
- Israel accuses Hamas of using the protests as cover to carry out attacks and says it is defending its border from infiltration attempts
- The Israel army denied targeting medical workers but said they operate very close to the fence
Syria’s Christians mark Christmas amid political change and uncertainty
- Religious minorities in Syria are wary of their new rulers and their rights under a post-Assad constitution
- Christmas celebrations remain subdued amid economic hardship, fuel shortages and power outages
DUBAI: For Father Iyad Ghanem, a Catholic priest at the Syriac Archdiocese of Homs and Hama, two of Syria’s four largest cities, this Christmas represents both new beginnings and the end of a dark chapter in Syria’s history.
In the wake of the dramatic developments that led to the ousting of Syria’s long-time President Bashar Assad on Dec. 8, Christians in the country are celebrating Christmas under the transitional government of Hayat Tahrir Al-Sham (HTS) for the first time.
HTS, a rebel group led by Ahmad Al-Sharaa, Syria’s de facto leader, has sought to reassure minority communities, including Kurds, Alawites and Shiites, as it distances itself from its hardline Islamist roots. For many Christians, the end of the Assad era has come as a veritable Christmas gift.
“Our churches are at peace, and we, as clergymen, are free to conduct our masses. Yet, it is too early for the parish to pass judgment on HTS. The atmosphere remains uncertain, and much is left to unfold,” Father Iyad told Arab News.
“Our country and community have endured so much over the past 13 years. With this new era upon us, we must free ourselves from fear, find the voices that were silenced for so long, and eliminate radicalism in all its forms. This is all unfamiliar territory, and we are still adjusting.”
Syria is part of a region often referred to as the “cradle of Christianity,” making it one of the earliest places in the world to host a Christian community. In the town of Maaloula, a handful of villages still speak Aramaic, the ancient dialect of Christ, to this day.
Once numbering over a million, Syria’s Christian population has dwindled to just 3 percent owing to the prolonged war that began in 2011 and the rise of Daesh in 2014. The violence and persecution left them vulnerable, forcing a large-scale exodus to Western countries.
Rassem Sairafi, a Christian from Homs, said he is optimistic about Syria’s future and hopes for a democratic and free nation.
“Many educated Syrians are returning from abroad. If they are included in the new government, I believe we will be in safe hands,” he told Arab News.
“Historically, Syria’s Sunni majority has been moderate. It was only during the war that began in 2011 that sectarianism took root. Hopefully, we can leave that behind and ensure we do not replace one dictatorship with another.”
The Assad regime left Syria in ruins. Its legacy is starkly evident in decimated infrastructure, a deeply entrenched corrupt political system, and a bankrupt economy that has pushed 90 percent of the population below the poverty line.
In a report for the US public broadcaster PBS on Dec. 12, correspondent Simona Foltyn said: “Streets are getting busier by the day and shops and government institutions are slowly returning to work.
“The opposition has taken over government institutions in the capital, Damascus, and has begun the task of governing the country, using its experience in Idlib as a blueprint. But administrating a whole country, as opposed to a province, is quite a different matter, and it remains to be seen how easily it can be scaled.”
She added: “Apart from the joy and relief, the mundane but vital work of making a country function is job number one for many.”
With Assad’s fall, Christians face additional uncertainty as a religious minority about their fate under the country’s new rulers. They feel that their future hangs in the delicate balance of a new era and constitution.
The Christian community, like all Syrians, endured severe hardships under Assad’s regime and so regards the new government with a mix of caution and optimism.
“We are nervous because we are unsure. We do not know what the future holds,” said Rawaa, a Christian from Damascus. “But we are aware of HTS’s history. While their recent legislative decisions are comforting, we remain eager to see if they will uphold these commitments over time.”
Despite being hailed as Syria’s “liberators” and Al-Sharaa’s recent efforts to rebrand himself — shedding his military persona as Abu Mohamad Al-Jolani to adopt the image of a statesman — the country’s stability and economic recovery remain precarious.
HTS is still designated as a terrorist group by the UN, US, EU, and UK, among many others, as it started as a splinter group of Al-Qaeda, which it broke away from in 2016.
Once confined to the overcrowded and impoverished northwestern region of Idlib but now acting as the self-imposed caretaker government in Damascus, HTS faces the daunting challenge of rebuilding a nation devastated by years of corruption and mismanagement under Assad.
In an effort to stave off chaos, Al-Sharaa has taken steps to restore basic services in some areas, called for the preservation of state institutions, and promoted the vision of an inclusive society and a peaceful transition to new governance.
Senior leaders of the transitional government continue to meet with representatives of various religious communities, emphasizing their commitment to protecting minority rights as part of broader efforts to reassure both Syrians and the international community.
Both Father Iyad and Rawaa voiced their aversion to the use of the term “minority” when describing their community, insisting they are an integral part of Syria’s fabric and one of the essential components that define the country.
This year, across various parts of the country, only churches have adorned their doors and squares with Christmas decorations — a gesture that Rawaa interprets as a sign of hope for the future. However, celebrations remain subdued. Many, including Rawaa’s family and friends, are opting for private gatherings.
“My neighborhood hasn’t put up Christmas decorations since the war began 13 years ago, and this year is no different,” Rawaa told Arab News.
“But it’s not out of fear of HTS. It’s because of the shortages we face and the hardships we endure. We lack electricity, fuel, and financial resources. The population is struggling, and the festive spirit is hard to find in such conditions.”
“Our celebrations will be within our homes, with close family and friends,” Rawaa said. “This is a new experience for us. While there has been no persecution from HTS, we are proceeding cautiously. The transitional government has promised to launch awareness campaigns to combat radicalism if necessary. Time will tell if they fulfill that promise.”
Mary Bitar, a Christian from Damascus, saw reason for optimism amid the adversities in the lead-up to Christmas.
“People are out and about. No one is being harassed. We may lack Christmas lights because of the electricity shortages, but our hearts are full, and we remain hopeful,” she said.
In his comments, Father Iyad emphasized that isolated acts of terrorism must be addressed before they escalate, citing a recent incident in Hama where armed men desecrated a Christian graveyard and set crosses in town squares ablaze.
“Small factions that align themselves with HTS must be controlled,” he told Arab News. “Those seeking to sow chaos must be stopped. We will not tolerate any radicalized behavior.”
Despite these challenges, Father Iyad remains steadfast in his message of hope. “My wish is for unity — a just legislation that provides equal rights to all Syrians. A peaceful, beautiful Syria for everyone.”
Gaza Christians pray for end of ‘death and destruction’
- Gone are the sparkling lights, festive decorations and towering Christmas tree that had graced Gaza City for decades
- Square of Unknown Soldier, once alive with spirit of the season, now lay in ruins, reduced to rubble by Israeli air strikes
GAZA CITY: Hundreds of Christians in war-ravaged Gaza City gathered at a church on Tuesday, praying for an end to the war that has devastated much of the Palestinian territory.
Gone were the sparkling lights, the festive decorations, and the towering Christmas tree that had graced Gaza City for decades.
The Square of the Unknown Soldier, once alive with the spirit of the season, now lay in ruins, reduced to rubble by relentless Israeli air strikes.
Amid the rubble, the faithful sought solace even as fighting continued to rage across the coastal strip on Tuesday.
“This Christmas carries the stench of death and destruction,” said George Al-Sayegh, who for weeks has sought refuge in the 12th century Greek Orthodox Church of Saint Porphyrius.
“There is no joy, no festive spirit. We don’t even know who will survive until the next holiday.”
A part of the church itself was destroyed in an Israeli air strike in October last year, in which 18 Palestinian Christians were killed, according to the territory’s health ministry.
About 1,100 Christians live in Gaza, a community that has also faced the brunt of the war since October 7 last year, when fighting between Israel and Hamas broke out.
Israel’s recent air strikes, including one that killed several children according to the territory’s civil defense agency, have come under severe criticism from Pope Francis.
“With pain I think of Gaza, of so much cruelty, of the children being machine-gunned, of the bombings of schools and hospitals. What cruelty,” the pope said after his weekly Angelus prayer on Sunday.
Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Saar had slammed the pontiff’s comment, saying they showed “double standards.”
But the pain and sorrow are visible in Gaza, and for Gaza City resident Kamal Jamil Caesar Anton, the festive season of Christmas is marred by profound grief.
Last December, his wife Nahida and daughter Samar were killed by Israeli sniper fire within the compound of the Holy Family Church, he said.
“We pray for peace, for the war to end so that the people can live safely,” Anton said.
His sentiments were echoed by resident Ramez Al-Souri who also suffered a bitter tragedy during the air strike that hit the Church of Saint Porphyrius.
His three children were among those killed in that attack.
“We are still suffering. We didn’t celebrate last year because of the destruction,” Souri said.
“This year we hoped for an end to the war, but every day we lose loved ones.”
Local Christian community leader George Anton hoped the warring sides would end the fighting soon.
“We call on all parties to end the war and to seek a true path to peace,” he said.
“We hope both peoples can live in harmony and security.”
Turkiye’s soaring costs are creating a ‘lost generation’ of kids forced to help their families get by
- About 7 million of Turkiye’s roughly 22.2 million children live in poverty
ISTANBUL: In a dim one-room apartment in one of Istanbul’s poorest neighborhoods, 11-year-old Atakan Sahin curls up on a threadbare sofa with his siblings to watch TV while their mother stirs a pot of pasta.
The simple meal is all the family of six can look forward to most evenings. Atakan, his two younger brothers and 5-year-old sister are among the one-third of Turkish children living in poverty.
“Look at the state of my children,” said Rukiye Sahin, 28. “I have four children. They don’t get to eat chicken, they don’t get to eat meat. I send them to school with torn shoes.”
Persistently high inflation, triggered by currency depreciation and unconventional economic policies that President Recep Tayyip Erdogan pursued but later abandoned, has left many families struggling to pay for food and housing. Experts say it’s creating a lost generation of children who have been forced to grow up too quickly to help their families eke out an existence.
According to a 2023 joint report by UNICEF and the Turkish Statistical Institute, about 7 million of Turkiye’s roughly 22.2 million children live in poverty.
That deprivation is brought into stark focus in neighborhoods such as Istanbul’s Tarlabasi, where the Sahin family lives just a few minutes’ walk from Istiklal Avenue, a tourism hot spot bristling with brightly lit shops and expensive restaurants.
Meanwhile, the Sahins eat sitting on the floor of their room — the same floor Rukiye and her husband sleep on while their children occupy the room’s sofas. In the chilly early December night, a stove burns scraps of wood to keep them warm. They sometimes fall asleep to the sound of rats scuttling through the building.
Atakan spends his days helping his father scour dumpsters in search of recyclable material to earn the family a meager income.
Poor children in Istanbul also earn money for their families by selling small items such as pens, tissues or bracelets at the bars and cafes in the city’s entertainment districts, often working late into the night.
“I can’t go to school because I have no money,” he said. “We have nothing. Can you tell me how I can go? On sunny days, when I don’t go to school, I collect plastic and other things with my father. We sell whatever we find.”
The cash helps buy basic foodstuffs and pay for his siblings to attend school. On the days Atakan can attend, he is ill-equipped to succeed, lacking proper shoes, a coat and textbooks for the English class he loves.
The Sahins struggle to scrape together the money to cover the rent, utilities and other basic expenses as Turkiye’s cost-of-living crisis continues to rage. Inflation stood at 47 percent in November, having peaked at 85 percent in late 2022. Prices of food and nonalcoholic drinks were 5.1 percent higher in November than in the previous month.
Under these circumstances, a generation of children is growing up rarely enjoying a full meal of fresh meat or vegetables.
Rukiye and her husband receive 6,000 lira ($173) per month in government welfare to help toward school costs, but they pay the same amount in rent for their home.
“My son says, ‘Mom, it’s raining, my shoes are soaking wet.’ But what can I do?” Rukiye said. “The state doesn’t help me. I’m in this room alone with my children. Who do I have except them?”
The picture of children rummaging through garbage to help support their families is far from the image Turkiye presents to the world: that of an influential world power with a vibrant economy favorable to foreign investment.
Erdogan is proud of the social programs his party has introduced since he came to power more than 20 years ago, boasting that the “old days of prohibitions, oppression, deprivation and poverty are completely behind us.”
Speaking at the G20 summit in November, Erdogan described Turkiye’s social security system as “one of the most comprehensive and inclusive” in the world. “Our goal is to ensure that not a single poor person remains. We will continue our work until we achieve this,” he said.
Finance Minister Mehmet Simsek, tasked with implementing austerity and taming inflation, said the 17,000 lira ($488) monthly minimum wage isn’t low. But he has pledged to raise it as soon as possible.
Although the government allocates billions of lira to struggling households, inflation, which most people agree is far above the official figure, eats into any aid the state can give.
In districts such as Tarlabasi, rents have risen five-fold in recent years due to gentrification in central Istanbul that puts pressure on the housing market for low-income families.
Experts say welfare payments aren’t enough for the millions who rely on them, forcing many parents to make impossible choices: Should they pay the rent or buy clothing for the children? Should they send them to school or keep them home to earn a few extra lira?
Volunteers are trying to ease the cycle of deprivation.
Mehmet Yeralan, a 53-year-old former restaurant owner, brings essentials to Tarlabasi’s poor people that they can’t afford, including coats, notebooks and the occasional bag of rice.
“Our children do not deserve this,” he said, warming himself by a barrel of burning scrap wood on the street. “Families are in very difficult situations. They cannot buy food for their children and send them to school. Children are on the streets, selling tissues to support their families. We are seeing deep poverty here.”
Hacer Foggo, a poverty researcher and activist, said Turkiye is raising a lost generation who are forced to drop out of school to work or are channeled into vocational programs where they work four days and study one day per week, receiving a small fraction of the minimum wage.
“Look at the situation of children,” she said. “Two million of them are in deep poverty. Child labor has become very common. Families choose these education-work programs because children bring in some income. It’s not a real education, just cheaper labor.”
Foggo points to research showing how early childhood education can help break cycles of poverty. Without it, children remain trapped — stunted physically and educationally, and condemned to lifelong disadvantages.
UNICEF placed Turkiye 38th out of 39 European Union or Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development countries in terms of child poverty between 2019 and 2021, with a child poverty rate of 34 percent.
The tragic consequences of this destitution occasionally burst into the public arena.
The deaths of five children in a fire in the western city of Izmir in November happened while their mother was out collecting scrap to sell. The image of their sobbing father, who was escorted from prison in handcuffs to attend his children’s funeral, caused widespread outrage at the desperation and helplessness facing poor families.
It is a situation Rukiye fully understands.
“Sometimes I go to bed hungry, sometimes I go to bed full,” she said. “We can’t move forward, we always fall behind. ... When you don’t have money in your hands, you always fall behind.”
Her eldest son, meanwhile, clings to his childhood dreams. “I want my own room,” Atakan said. “I want to go to school regularly. I want everything to be in order. … I’d like to be a football player one day, to support my family.”
Israeli military intercepts missile launched from Yemen, army says
- The Iran-backed Houthi group has repeatedly fired drones and missiles toward Israel in what it has described as acts of solidarity with Palestinians in Gaza.
JERUSALEM: The Israeli army said Wednesday it intercepted a ballistic missile fired toward the country from Yemen.
Air raid sirens sounded over a wide swathe of central Israel as a precaution against falling debris, but the army said it shot down the projectile before it entered Israeli territory.
No injuries were reported, according to Magen David Adom (MDA), Israel’s emergency medical services.
“A missile that was launched from Yemen was intercepted before crossing into Israeli territory,” the Israeli army wrote on the Telegram social media platform. “Sirens regarding rocket and missile launches were activated due to the possibility of falling shrapnel from the interception.”
On Tuesday, the Israeli army also said it had intercepted a projectile fired from Yemen.
Yemen’s Iran-backed Houthi rebels have repeatedly launched missiles against Israel in solidarity with the Palestinians since the war in Gaza began more than a year ago. Most of them have been intercepted, but on Saturday an attack on Tel Aviv injured 16 people.
In recent days, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu issued a warning to the rebels.
“I have instructed our forces to destroy the infrastructure of Houthis, because anyone who tries to harm us will be struck with full force,” Netanyahu said, “even if it takes time.”
In July, a Houthi drone attack on Tel Aviv killed an Israeli civilian, prompting retaliatory strikes on the Yemeni port of Hodeidah.
The Houthis have also regularly targeted shipping in the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden, leading to retaliatory strikes by US and sometimes British forces.
Israeli military says a commander injured during operation in West Bank
CAIRO: The Israeli military said on Wednesday that a commander was moderately injured after his vehicle was hit by an explosive device during a “counter-terrorism” operation in the area of Tulkarm in the Israeli-occupied West Bank.
