Inside a Gaza hospital, three-year-old Hanan al-Daqqi lies beside her little sister, Misk, and keeps asking poignant questions day and night. “Where’s Mama?” “Where did my legs go?” their voices echo off the sterile hallways, repeating the trauma they’ve endured since being critically injured in an Israeli bombing that cost them their legs.
Their 28-year-old aunt, Shefa al-Daqqi, has been with the girls ever since, but she is at a loss for words to answer their innocent inquiries about their mother, who lost her life in that attack.
Their mother, Shaima al-Daqqi, had gotten up early on September 2 to take Hanan and 22-month-old Misk for polio vaccinations amid the conflict. A day later, their house in Deir el-Balah was destroyed in an airstrike, killing their mother while the rest of the family, including their father Mohammed al-Daqqi, were injured, he critically.
Hanan’s injuries were most devastating: she lost both legs and sustained multiple wounds, while Misk had her left foot amputated. Their father spent two weeks in intensive care grappling with a brain hemorrhage and chest injuries.
“We have been living in a nightmare for four months now,” says Shefa, trying to comfort the girls, who still appear to live in fear and anxiety, clinging to her for reassurance, their small frames weighed down by the losses they have suffered.
Often, Shefa breaks down at the thought of what will be in store for the girls. “What do I tell them about their mother? What will happen to them in their life?” she says. The hospital is already stretched on all other fronts, so psychological support for the children is out of the question.
In the face of their dire situation, small moments of happiness seem to come through simple treats from family members. In rotation, grown-ups take care of Hanan and Misk, although their uncle Ahmed often brings laughter into their days, playing with them.
The harsh reality is nevertheless still their day-to-day fact of life. Hanan, much more sensitive to the loss than her sister, stares with a pained longing at the legs of her cousin Hala, reminded by that of what she had lost.
The road to recovery was very painful for them because every passing day of the war was more catastrophic. These girls are still in dire need of artificial limbs, and because of this reason, they are kept in the waiting list to get transferred outside for their treatment, but approval from the Israeli administration hasn’t arrived yet.
“We’ve been waiting for more than three months,” Shefa laments. “They are just little girls who need help. Their mental state is deteriorating.” The situation is even more complex due to their ongoing growth. Without timely rehabilitation and proper prosthetics, the sisters face a future that will be forever altered.
Shefa reflects on what has happened, the love that their mother had for them. Shaima was committed to making sure that her daughters had everything they needed, hopeful for a brighter future. “Children should be protected and not hurt,” she says, still trying to make sense of it all.
For Hanan and Misk, every day in the hospital is a combination of longing for the life they knew and an uncertain future with its challenges. In fact, playful moments at the park or even beautiful shoes are all lost now amidst the terrors these children have seen.
