The ongoing Israeli hostilities in Gaza since October 7, 2023, have shattered countless lives, forcing families to flee their homes and face unimaginable hardships. Among those affected is Mohammed Salem, a Palestinian taxi driver whose life has been irrevocably altered by the war. Like many others, Mohammed’s once-peaceful existence was upended when Israeli forces launched a full-scale assault on Gaza, displacing him and his family.
Mohammed’s story is one of heartbreak, grief, and a desperate father trying to keep his children safe. In December 2023, his one-and-a-half-year-old son’s health began to quickly deteriorate due to the lack of basic needs like sanitation. Mohammed had to make the unthinkable decision to fight for his child’s life in the middle of a war zone as the boy’s condition worsened.
“My heart was torn apart for him,” Mohammed says. “He was hurting so badly, and I didn’t even know what was wrong with him. I felt helpless—completely powerless—and I had no idea what I could do to ease his pain.”
Before the war, Mohammed, who is in his thirties, cherished weekends with his family, treating his three daughters and young son to ice cream. But in October 2023, those simple joys vanished.
In January 2024, Mohammed and his family were forced to flee their home near Gaza’s eastern border under Israeli evacuation orders. They sought refuge in Al-Sinaa, a neighborhood west of Gaza City, ending up in a severely overcrowded United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA) shelter, where thousands of displaced families struggled to survive.
Mohammed recalls the shelter being “unbearable.” Upon arrival, the family couldn’t find any room in the Al-Sinaa UNRWA building, which was filled with other displaced people from across Gaza. Desperate, he was forced to break the lock of a generator room of the building for the family to shelter inside. He describes the conditions as nightmarish.
“There was no food, no water—just the stench of sewage filling the air and sticking to our skin,” he says. “We were starving, suffocating… praying for a way out.”
Many shelters, originally designed for a few hundred people, were pushed to the brink. According to UNRWA, some facilities housed ten to twelve times their capacity, with one school in Khan Younis sheltering approximately 21,000 people. The extreme congestion, poor sanitation, and the collapse of basic services such as medical care and sewage removal turned these shelters into breeding grounds for disease.
By mid-December 2023, the World Health Organization (WHO) had already recorded more than 150,000 cases of upper respiratory infections and more than 100,000 cases of diarrhea—half in children under five—a staggering increase of twenty-five times the pre-war number of monthly diarrhea cases. Skin infections had also become rampant, with 96,417 cases of scabies and lice, 9,274 cases of chickenpox, and 60,130 cases of skin rash by July 2024.
As weeks passed, his son’s health began to deteriorate. The toddler grew increasingly frail, eventually losing the ability to walk. Most of his time was spent lying on his back, too weak to move.
“We watched his strength slip away,” Mohammed says. “Seeing him like that broke us.”
Doctors diagnosed him with meningitis, a life-threatening infection that inflames the protective membranes around the brain and spinal cord. Without urgent medical care, the boy faced the risk of brain damage, hearing loss, or even death. Desperate, Mohammed searched every hospital in Gaza for treatment, but the ongoing war had severely impeded the health care system.
His biggest concern was confirmed when a doctor at Nasser Hospital told him there was no cure for his son in Gaza, and the toddler would need to be treated abroad.
“I feared the worst,” Mohammed recalls. “How could such a tiny, fragile child face it all alone? Who would take care of him there?”
But securing treatment outside the besieged enclave was nearly impossible. The shutdown of desalination plants and solid waste collection due to fuel shortages further worsened health conditions, increasing the spread of bacterial infections as people resorted to drinking contaminated water.
After a long and agonizing struggle, Mohammed finally obtained permission to send his son abroad for treatment. But that victory came at a painful cost—he and his wife had to stay behind, barred by Israel from leaving Gaza.
“I couldn’t shake the feeling that we might never be a family again, that we might never reunite,” Mohammed says.
They have now been separated from their son for more than a year and a half.
Since the start of the war, thousands of critically ill Palestinian patients have sought medical evacuation, but many remain trapped due to border closures and bureaucratic delays. Now, the distance between Mohammed’s family and their son grows wider—both physically and emotionally.
“The doctors abroad told me my son is starting to forget me,” Mohammed says, his voice heavy with grief. “I fear I will never see him again, that I will be killed here before I get the chance.”
With war still raging around him, Mohammed’s only plea is to be reunited with his son before it’s too late. He calls on those in power to grant him and his family the right to see their little boy again—before the war steals what remains of their bond.