Enemies? No, patients, say Israeli doctors treating Syrians
In the last year, more than 220 Syrians have been treated at Israel’s expense at the Nahariya hospital.
Dr.
Yoav Hoffman of the Western Galilee Hospital, says he's treated a
number of Syrian children who appear to have been intentionally shot in
the spine by a sniper. Christa Case Bryant/TCSM
The West Galilee Hospital in
Nahariya
is no stranger to war. Located only six miles south of the Lebanese
border, it took a direct missile hit during the 2006 conflict with
Hezbollah. But the Syrian war has pervaded these halls and wards in a
much more personal way: through wounded Syrians, who are picked up at
the border and brought here by the Israeli military for free treatment
Christa Case Bryant
Jerusalem bureau chief
Christa Case Bryant is The Christian Science Monitor's Jerusalem
bureau chief, providing coverage on Israel and the Palestinian
territories as well as regional issues.
Since the first two Syrian patients arrived nearly a year ago, the
hospital has treated more than 220 Syrians, out of around 600 who have
been brought to
Israel.
About a third of those treated in Nahariya have been children, some of
whom arrived unconscious or unaccompanied by a relative.
“Something
explodes and next thing, they open their eyes in a foreign country, and
everyone is speaking Hebrew,” says Dr. Tsvi Sheleg, the hospital’s
assistant director general. “They are in an enemy country – that’s how
they see it.”
Israel has a tradition of offering humanitarian assistance in war
zones and natural disasters around the world, even where it is not
particularly welcome. But treating Syrians, whose country is still
officially at war with Israel, is not only a logistical miracle but an
extraordinary exercise in humanity trumping hate.
"It's important
as a human being to be able to help others as a human being. I thank my
government … that gives us the opportunity to help each other," says
Director-General Masad Barhoum, who oversees the government hospital.
"They are human beings. I don't believe that anyone in this hospital
believes they are enemies."
The Syrian patients generally come to a similar conclusion.
“At
first they were frightened ... they thought we would harm them and
torture them,” says Yoav Hoffman, senior physician in the pediatric
intensive care unit, which has treated about 25 children, ranging in age
from a few months to 17 years old. “Then after a few days they
understood what we were doing and they didn't want to leave.”
Hospital staff don’t know whether they’re treating civilians or soldiers, and they say they’re not sure whether the
Israeli army knows either. Some patients offer their own accounts, though there is no way of verifying them.
Dr. Jean Sustiel in the neurosurgery department says one man claimed he had been a bodyguard of
Syrian President Bashar al-Assad
but decided to switch sides and fight with the rebels. But his fellow
rebels began to suspect him of being an Assad spy and shot and wounded
him.
“He didn’t want to go back because he was wanted by both
sides,” says Dr. Sustiel. “So he wanted to be transferred back to
Jordan.”
The doctors say they know little to nothing about how the
Syrian patients are picked up and transferred back to the border, a
process that is handled by the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). But there
appears to be significant cross-border communication involved,
potentially mediated by United Nations forces stationed along the
border, especially since doctors say some children arrived alone and the
IDF was able to track down a relative and bring them to the hospital
within a short time.
Some analysts have speculated that such
channels of communication may also be helping Israel to keep the more
extremist jihadi and salafi groups in
Syria away from its border.
But for doctors at the West Galilee Hospital, the mission is detached from geopolitics.
In
Dr. Hoffman’s unit, a 3-year-old girl stands quivering on a table as
her father embraces her. Both were injured in what he says was a
cluster-bomb attack in Deraa, the southern city roughly 25 miles from
Israel where the uprising began three years ago. He breaks down in tears
as he tells of the attack, in which the girl’s twin brother was killed,
but manages to add, “The treatment here is really excellent.”
But
the doctors and staff say it’s not just about offering medical care.
They also bring clothes, toys, and games from their own homes to give to
the Syrian patients, including dolls and teddy bears for the children.
One girl wanted so badly to see the Mediterranean Sea that the hospital
worked with the Israeli military to bring her west to the beach before
heading back east to the border.
The hospital’s willingness to
help has brought in heartfelt letters and donations from Muslims in
Israel and the US. One mosque in nearby Acre sent $1,000 collected
during prayers, and individual American Muslims have written to thank
the hospital for helping when Arab countries have done so little, says
Amir Yarchi of Friends of the Western Galilee Hospital, who heads up
fundraising efforts.
“When you think about the extent of
casualties in Syria … we are dealing with one drop in the ocean,” says
Sustiel. “But there is an old Jewish saying – when you have saved one
soul you have saved an entire world, so this is what we hope we are
doing.”
Labels: Atrocities, Conflict, Human Relations, Israel, Medicine, Syria