A Palestinian youth rushes a girl who was injured in an Israeli strike on an apartment at the Nuseirat refugee camp, into Al-Awda hospital in the central Gaza Strip on July 19.EYAD BABA/AFP/Getty Images
Volunteer paramedic Mohammed Hosni spends almost all his days without rest, often sleeping at the Al-Awda Hospital in Al Nuseirat in the middle of the Gaza Strip. He rarely sees his family. He stays in his paramedic’s uniform, and a medical bag is always with him. The ambulance has become an extension of himself since the Israel-Hamas war began almost two years ago.
Mr. Hosni, 33, is among the few front-line workers navigating the Gaza Strip’s most dangerous streets to reach the dead or injured. International condemnation and pressure to end a war that a United Nations commission has called a genocide is increasing, with U.S. President Donald Trump on Tuesday proposing a permanent road map for peace in a meeting at the White House with Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. But Israel’s devastating assault on Gaza by land and air continues.
Stay up to date on Gaza and the Israel-Hamas war, including the ground offensive, ceasefire talks and the continuing famine.
For Mr. Hosni, the constant buzz of drones and nearby explosions remind him that every call may mean he has to save a life or accept a tragedy in a conflict that has killed at least 66,000 Palestinians, according to figures from the Palestinian Health Ministry.
“Every call makes me run,” he said. “My heart beats fast because I know that every second counts, and a life can be lost if I delay.”
Gaza updates: Latest on Israel’s offensive, ceasefire talks and Netanyahu’s meeting with Trump
The work is even harder because of the telecommunications blackouts in Gaza, which last days at a time and disable mobile phone service. Paramedics often rely on injured people arriving at hospitals with companions who can tell them where the attack happened. Paramedics must stay inside hospitals between calls – there is no other way to co-ordinate rescue missions.
With the first call of the day, Mr. Hosni starts the ambulance engine and rushes through streets marked with deep holes and scattered rubble. Every turn could bring him face-to-face with someone trapped, a child silently crying, a woman searching for her children or an elderly man shouting for help.
His work is a race against time. Every lost second can mean a lost life.
“Often, I find myself in front of destroyed buildings without the right equipment to remove rubble or quickly rescue victims,” he said. “Every passing second feels like their lives are slipping through my fingers. We don’t have enough tools, nor enough paramedics. We are forced to improvise on the spot to save lives.”
Throughout the day, he receives many calls, each sending him to a new location. Sometimes he doesn’t know exactly where he is going. When he does arrive, he carefully lifts the injured into the ambulance and transports them to the Al-Awda Hospital, providing first aid along the way with bits of gauze, painkillers, antiseptics and a few syringes. He sometimes improvises, using cloth to bandage wounds.
Every passing second feels like their lives are slipping through my fingers.
— Mohammed Hosni
On a recent mission, he rescued a young girl trapped in a side street. Placing her in the ambulance, he drove at full speed back to the hospital. As he drove alone, he held her small hand tightly to calm her.
“Everything will be okay,” he told her. “I will get you to safety.”
In the evenings, as dusk falls, Mr. Hosni stands beside the ambulance outside the hospital, removes his mask, washes his dusty and blood-stained face and takes a moment to breathe. His feet are swollen and his hands tremble. He knows he will likely sleep at the hospital that night.
One phone call changed his life forever. Something he never thought would happen.
“Your house was bombed,” the caller said. He dropped everything and ran home. When he arrived, he found his home reduced to debris. His wife had been killed. His three-year-old son, also named Hosni, was calling out from under the rubble. Mr. Hosni tried to lift the debris with his hands but without proper tools it was too heavy.
Palestinians in Gaza hope state recognition brings an end to the war
“When I heard my son’s voice, I saw him with all my senses but couldn’t reach him. … I felt worthless. I am the paramedic who helps everyone, but I couldn’t save my own child," he said.
Six days later, he reached the bodies of his family under the collapsed building. His little boy had suffocated to death.
“My son Hosni had died … a feeling I could never imagine. The pain was unbearable, but I had no time to stop.”
Even now, when his father sees him prepare to go to work, his eyes show worry. Since losing 27 members of their extended family, Mr. Hosni is all that his father has left.
“Take care of yourself … don’t leave me alone,” his father whispers each time he leaves home.
Mr. Hosni stays silent. But his message to his father, to Gaza, is clear: Life goes on, and hope does not die as long as there are those who can save lives.