825: Yousef
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From WBEZ Chicago, it's This American Life. I'm Ari Goss. Hello. Hi, this is Yousef Hamash. Yes, it is loud and clear. Good. Is this still an okay time for you to talk? Yes. Okay. It's a bit crazy outside, a lot of crowdness. There's a lot of traffic, especially from the children. Let me find a quiet place. Okay. Close the door. Yes.

For months, one of our producers, Rana Jafi-Wald, has been talking to Yousef Hamash. He's in Gaza. Back in December, we put out an extra podcast episode, a bonus mini episode with some of those conversations. But so much has happened since then. We wanted to come back to Yousef and do a full episode. And that is what we have for you today. It is a series of unusually frank conversations about what he and his family were experiencing, sometimes as they were experiencing it.

and about the decisions they made with the choices they had. So what we're going to do is we're going to play you a lot of stuff from December and then what has happened since then. Yusuf is in his early 30s, got two kids and a big extended family. He works for a humanitarian organization operating in Gaza, the Norwegian Refugee Council, the NRC.

And Khanna started talking to Yusuf in early December, really knowing very little about him or his situation at the beginning. And as you'll hear, more and more unfolds and gets revealed. At that point, he had just relocated with his wife and kids to Rafah, where the NRC office is. Rafah is in the south of Gaza. It's at the border with Egypt. His family was living in the NRC office there.

And so Yousef was in the unusual situation in Gaza where he often did have internet access with solar panels providing power. Meanwhile, the rest of his extended family, including four sisters, was about eight miles away in a town called Khan Yunis. Here's Khanna. So talk to me about what did you do today? Today I had to find a place for my extended family, which Alhamdulillah I found it today. I found a place and I built a tent, two tents actually.

because I couldn't find a house to rent or anything. So tomorrow I will move the rest of my family here to Lafah from Khan Younes to these two tents. And today it takes me a while building these tents.

Is there anybody in the family that is hesitant? Do you have to? Yes, we have. I had, yes, yes. Yeah, yeah, yeah. They're part of the family. And even a few minutes ago, a few minutes ago, I was having this debate with my sister that she was like, okay, I'm pregnant. She's pregnant. And she don't want to do the delivery in a tent. And she said like, okay, they are still far, like one kilometer away, the tanks and everything.

She said that we cannot suffer more, at least we have here a bathroom. The main debate was a bathroom, about having your privacy to use a bathroom. Because, you know, when you are fleeing in a tent, there is no bathrooms or that privacy. I'm trying. Tomorrow I'll find a way to build a bathroom for them. Yousef has been moving and convincing his sisters to move since the war began. They all started the war in Jabalia, in the northern part of Gaza.

After October 7th, when Hamas attacked southern Israel and killed around 1,200 people, took about 240 people hostage, Yusuf immediately moved his family from Jebelia to his parents' house in a nearby city, Beit Lehiya. They moved the very next day, October 8th.

On October 9th, Israeli airstrikes hit Jebelia. And then again on October 12th, 19th, 22nd, 31st, November 1st, 2nd, 4th, and on. Yusuf and his family and his sister's families then fled south to Khan Yunus. They stayed with relatives until Yusuf read a leaflet that fell from the sky.

It said, "You must evacuate immediately and go to shelters in the city of Rafah. The city of Hanunas is a dangerous combat zone. Forewarned is forearmed," who signed the Israeli Defense Forces. That's when he fled to Rafah with his wife and his kids. By that point in the war, over 15,000 people in Gaza had been killed. The place Yusuf works, the NRC, had rented an office in Rafah, in the area the Israelis were now saying was a safe zone.

Yusuf moved his immediate family into the office. But his sisters and their families weren't so sure they wanted to follow this time. So Yusuf, from the moment he got to Rafah, had been pushing his sisters and Khan Yunus to come. He'd been at that for almost a week. To be honest, each one of them have its own personality and they have to persuade her the way I know. Each one of them.

One of them, she's worried about her father-in-law and mother-in-law. She's like, okay, they are not safe and they are on the street. I'll build them a tent. But I want to make sure that you are with me here. I'll bring them also. The other one, I had to do the same option with her. Okay, I'll bring your father-in-law and their entire family. I'll take care of them, but I want you to come here.

What about the woman who's pregnant?

Because they didn't expect what's coming. I hadn't thought about how each time you have to sort of mentally convince yourself that the place that you're in, which is feeling okay at that moment, might not feel okay very soon. Yeah, because who would ever imagine that the Israeli tanks will be in the center of Jabalia camp? Or who would ever imagine that they would be in Shifa hospital? Mm-hmm.

These things, we never imagined that it would be a real thing that we are seeing by our own eyes. We never thought about that. Yusuf was lobbying his sisters to move as hard as he could. But honestly, he himself wasn't always totally sure about bringing them to Rafah. Yusuf kept searching for new information about what the Israeli military was planning to do next. He'd ask everyone he met, look everywhere online.

Except a few places he avoided. I don't open my Facebook, for example, or Instagram because all my friends from Gaza are there. Because I don't want to know who's dead. I don't want to know. I don't have the time to respect these people who I lose. By coincidence, a few days ago, I found out that my uncle is dead. I didn't know about that before.

And a friend of mine told me that, oh, he didn't know. And we were just having a chat and I mentioned him. He didn't know that he's my uncle. And I was talking like, oh, he's my uncle. He's like, yeah, I'm sorry for your loss. I was like, what?

Oh. I didn't know that. It was like two weeks ago. He's dead. He's killed two weeks ago in Jabalia. I didn't know. How did that come up in that conversation? We were mentioning where his parents living in Jabalia. And I was like, okay, my relatives living there. They are from that Jewry family. And I was like, yeah, yeah, I know. And he was like, yeah, he's my uncle. I was like, yeah, sorry for your loss. And I was like, no, no, no, he's alive. He was killed. I know, I know. He was like,

I felt a bit stupid, and it was a really weird feeling that I didn't know that my uncle is dead since two weeks. He was killed. Do you... The other thing, okay, just to continue on this story. Yesterday, my brother who lives in Sweden, my cousin who is the son of my uncle I mentioned, he was asking my brother to check if I have information about his father. Uh-huh.

And I don't want to be that, also to deliver the news for him that his father was killed. Have you told him? No, I told him there is no connection between the south and the north, and it's impossible to reach anyone there, which is true. There is no phone call, there is nothing that, you cannot reach anyone in the north. And I was like,

I will try to check what's the situation, but I didn't want to be the one who's giving the news. Oh, Yusuf. So you just couldn't bring yourself to tell him what you had heard? Yes. Even my mother, who's with me now, doesn't know. Is it her brother? Yes. And you're not going to tell her? Definitely not. And I'm saying that here because I'm sure...

they don't understand English first of all and second thing they won't listen sorry for that but they're in Gaza they won't listen to this podcast to know from this podcast that yeah I always don't it's one of the first time that I really speak about these things it seems weird for me that

I always in front of everyone around me. I'm the man who's managing everything and supporting anyone in need. And if you need anything, the best one to call is Yusuf. Now I'm helpless, useless. I cannot do anything. I cannot even manage my own need. So if your uncle comes up, your mom mentions him or your wife says, oh, I wonder how he's doing. You're you will not say anything.

It happens and I didn't say anything. Yes, it happened yesterday. And I was like, no, I'm not going to say anything. My brain was like circling around and I was like, okay, you have to tell her. She has, she deserves to know that her brother is dead. And I was like, no, she, it's her right to know. And she will blame me a lot when she knows that I was knowing without telling her. Mm-hmm.

I have to shut down. My brain is like, no, you turn off. It's not your role now. Not your what? It's not your role. You don't need to be functioning now. Yeah. Focus on building tents. I have to be honest. I have plenty of to-do lists. On my list is many things. My priority now is the time to secure my family and manage their needs more than anything else.

For me, looking for their safety, it's not about them only. It's more about me. I cannot imagine for a moment losing one of them, one of my sisters. It has to be me before them. Because I don't have the strength even to think about losing one of them. That's why I'm doing it, not because of you, it's because of me. I don't have that, I'm weak mentality.

To have the strength to handle losing any one of them. I don't have that strength. Do you think they do it for you? They came to Hanunis with me before me. No one agreed. It was really hard. And I had to fight with my mother. But they came because I want them. I want them to be with me.

So they do it for you? That time, yes. But for me. And this time? This time, I think I'll prepare everything. I will prepare the tents. I'll find you a place. Then I'll move you once when everything's ready to move.

have you. And what pushed me to finish everything today is that Benjamin Netanyahu, he was threatening Hezbollah. He was like saying, Hezbollah, you should stop what you are doing because if it starts a war, we will turn Beirut into Gaza and Khan Yunus. So I was like, okay, now it's Khan Yunus. I need to evacuate them from there. They are in the center of Khan Yunus. Did you send them that quote? Yep. Because a lot of people...

stay until the last moment, and when they evacuate, they evacuate under bombing. And I don't want my sisters to experience that. What does the tent look like? So there is two types of tents. Now I became expert, by the way. I was going to ask you how you know how to build tents so quickly. So one, I get it through NRC, where I work, and it was with instruction that was easy. The other one is like wooden sticks with plastic. The hardest part was finding a place...

A suitable place to rent a small land, not around the streets, you know. It's an agricultural area. It's a bit sandy everywhere. So you rent a land, you don't, you didn't just... I'm sorry, what? It was a massive airstrike. Just now? Yes. Another airstrike. They're getting crazy somehow. All of this is Khen Yunis. The explosions are in Khen Yunis right now? Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Another one. Okay. What's going on? I'll call you in a minute, okay? No problem. No problem. Just one minute, I'll call you back. Take your time. Bye. Because it seems really massive there. Okay. Okay, bye. Hi. Hello. Hi. Yes, sorry. Is everybody okay? Just want to make sure that they're still alive. Yeah, they're alive. Do you literally write, are you alive? Yeah, it was a funny message for my sister. Are you alive? Wait, that's funny?

Yeah, because I had to send a smile and emojis laughing. That's how we are talking always. And even when I'm with them, it's like, okay, we have one more day to live. Let's enjoy it. Maybe two days. Okay. So you wrote her, are you alive, smiley face? Yeah. Oh my God. Yeah. And she writes back, yes. Or she laughs. Yes.

She left and she said it's a bit calm. A bit calm, okay? I don't know what she means, a bit calm, but yeah. I'll let you go. I've taken so much of your time. Thank you so much. And tomorrow what's going to happen is your sisters are going to move? Yeah, this is going to be the early thing for me to do in the morning because I don't want them to

move under the bombing so I want to keep with them when it's a bit calm and manageable without risks so I'll do it in the early morning but maybe because of this rain I need to assist the situation tomorrow morning I promise them that we will make decision together this time tomorrow morning but you've already made the decision that you want them to go yes yes

Okay. I hope you have an easy night and I will check in with you tomorrow. That's a good phrase. Easy night. Okay. Inshallah. Thank you. Thank you. Okay. Bye. Thank you. Bye-bye. Hi, Yusuf. Hello. Did your sisters move today?

I want to jump in and say a little bit about what Yusuf doing his best looks like. An incomplete summary of that particular day.

He spent the morning trying to track down trucks for the Norwegian Refugee Council where he works. The trucks were full of aid, things like bedding, tents, buckets for water, that should have arrived at the border, but he couldn't check online if they were there because the system was down and the phones weren't working, so he went in person, wandered around looking at plate numbers, could not find the trucks. Then he went to the market to find medicine for his wife, Manal, who's sick, could not find medicine.

In the midst of all this, he got a call from another relative who was fleeing and needed a place to stay in Rafah. Yes, yes, you can come, Yusuf told him. One more tent. Near his sister's tents, Yusuf saw a guy building a bathroom. Hired that guy, but he's busy until tomorrow.

The bathroom guy told Yusuf he needed to find supplies, so Yusuf spent hours searching for cement, stones, and a water tank. He found a water tank, but it was in a different part of Gaza, so Yusuf paid more than the price of the water tank to get it transported.

I was picturing like a hole in the ground that you were going to build near. You're going to dig near the tents, but you're building an actual bathroom with water and walls. Yes, actually that was a condition from my sisters. So is that the first thing for you tomorrow? Definitely, yes. It will be happening for sure tomorrow because a few months

Two hours ago or less, there was an airstrike near them and it takes me like half an hour or more just trying to call, trying to call. I couldn't reach anyone. That freaked me out and I cannot handle the situation again. And I managed to reach my sister Asil and we are fine. There's a lot of gas and a lot of bombing, but we are fine. And that's what, and this is when we agreed, tomorrow you are moving and I will come to pick you tomorrow.

Oh, you did? Yeah. So she definitely agreed. Yeah, yeah. I will be recording something because my son is just annoying me. That's okay. I like hearing him. How old is he? Two and a half. Two and a half. Ilya, close the door. I'm just asking him to close the door. Close the door, my dear.

Last night I had to stay awake until Ahmed, who cannot sleep without being kissed a thousand times in his cheeks until he sleeps. Sometimes when he feels that I'm tired of kissing him, he gives me his hand to kiss it.

so that you have it close to you exactly yeah he he like to give me some rest sometimes okay you can kiss my hand i don't know how we get this habit but i don't mind it and for me it's okay i'm really grateful for the the rain it starts raining then that reduce the the sound of bombing and also you can use it oh this is a thunder strike so

We are lucky today. We can manipulate that. So you'll tell them in the night if they hear a noise? Yeah, it's raining. It's raining. It's raining. It's a thunder strike. It's raining. I don't know. At the beginning, it was a bit...

Is it close to you?

No. If it was closed, you would hear it. Okay. Okay. I failed to convince them that this is not a war. And I failed that they know that this is a war at that age. And they see how we are shouting. My sisters are crying. It's not enough anymore for my children when they feel panic from bombing to run towards us. They start screaming without even running towards us because...

Somehow they understood that we don't have that ability to protect them. And that's something really awful when you understand that your children understand that you cannot protect them. When I start to feel useless in front of my children and when I found that I cannot protect my children, I deeply regret it because... You regret what? What is the meaning as a father? I regret having children here. What is the meaning for me as a father if I cannot protect them?

You regret having children, having children in Gaza? Yes, definitely I regret. I made them, I made that decision and I had children in Gaza while I know the consequences, but I wasn't imagining that we will go through this because I am a man of responsibility. I'm responsible for these children to secure their life and future. If I know that they will live through this, I would never, ever even get married to you.

You would never get married. Is that what you said? Yes. Yes. Yeah. Is a part of that feeling like I should have known not to do this or? It's I should never did that decision. Hello? Hi, Yusuf. Do you have a couple minutes? Yeah, of course. Yeah. How did today go? Oh, it was really, really long day. I started really early and it was a lot of things to do. Did they move? Yeah, they moved.

They moved? So I brought them home. Yeah, yeah, they moved. Wow, you did it. It was really a lot. Last night they were texting me about a lot of bombing. The house next to them was bombed. Another house behind them was bombed. And so they wanted to move. They wanted to go. Yusuf, the house next to them was bombed last night? Yes. Yeah, last night was a bit harsh when they started texting me that the bombing is around us. Yeah, yeah.

But there was an airstrike that hit a property right next to them. Yes, but it's a drone strike. So, okay. We have different types of missiles that the Israelis are using. So there is the F-16, which warplanes and this American-made weapon destroy entire neighborhoods. The drones have smaller bombs that destroy a house or half of the house.

They were afraid that the bombing might be in the same house because it's four floors and they are the first ones. So that's why they didn't argue with me. Like, yes, let's move. Did you think about going in the night? Yeah, I told them I'm coming. You texted back, I'm coming.

Yes. And they were freaking out that I would come. And my wife prevented me. My sisters were texting me, do not come. There is a lot of bombing in the street in front of the house. Do not come. Yousef waited till the sun came up and then drove to Khan Yunus. He says on his way there, he could hear gunfire and explosions all around him. The first thing I did in the morning is like I went there.

Back up in the car, my sisters and their children, and I came, and then I sent another car, like a small van, small bus, so I can have the bags and everything, and my brother's in law. Was there a part of you that felt a little frustrated? Like, I told you guys you should have come earlier, and didn't want it to get to this?

That's exactly what the first thing I said today when I met them. That was how you greeted them? Yeah. What did you say? First thing is like, I told you we don't want to, because it was a lot of bombing, a lot of tanks. Like I told you before, we don't need to run away under shelling and bombing.

But now we did it. Every time had to be the same situation. So overnight, you're worried about their survival and you're panicked and you want to drive to get them in the middle of the night. But in the morning, you greet them with, I told you so. This is what I said was going to happen. Yeah.

I was blaming them. So there is no discussion. We are leaving. So you didn't like hug them and cry and say, I'm so glad you survived, you said. No, we have a different type of relation. It's not about hugging them. I was laughing. You should have died. I should be in the morgue now. This

This is how I'm with my sisters. And did they laugh? What did they say about you? Hadir was like, you know, actually, they would start to give me orders quickly. You need to talk to our cousin, I imagine, because he was with us. You need to invite him. You have to talk to him nicely and push him.

to bring them with us because they've taken care of us for a long time. Now we have to repay them. Also go to our uncle Ayman because they wanted to have invited by you, not us. It's like, okay, I'll do this and you bag the luggage and you do that. And they refused to leave before cleaning everything. They wouldn't leave without cleaning the house? Yes.

Yep, cleaning the house, kitchen, bathrooms. Even though you're fleeing bombing. Yes, because they will, yeah, that was actually weird from them, but this is how they think, and I really respect it, because we leave it better than the way we have. This is how we show respect, and we had to clean. And then you left. Yep. Okay. Then we left. What did it... So it was the first time for them since the beginning of the war to see the sea.

Oh. They were very, very excited and happy. How did they respond to the tents when you showed them where they're staying? I was expecting that they would feel like, ah, it's not nice. But they were happy. It's like, okay, it's nice. It's good. Did you feel nervous? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I want them to see that, to prove for them that I did my best. And I was checking on them.

inside the tents what do you think it's warm there's two layers for the tent one for the terrain and one inside I was trying to convince them as you know these sale people who is trying to convince you to buy something uh-huh

That was you? Exactly what it was. That was me today. I know, it's nice, good. We'll do the bathroom here. We'll get something there. Here we can turn the fire. And I was like, I'll get you internet tomorrow and I will get you lights here. Our neighbors have a solar panel. He will connect us some lights. I was doing that sail man. And they were happy. They were? Did they give you the response you wanted? Yeah.

Yeah, it's like, yeah, it's nice. Also, I went in our way coming. We went through one of the camps that people, you know, people are just building tents in the streets. And they saw how miserable the situation is. So and I meant I meant to go there before taking them to our place. You did it on purpose. Exactly. Because I want them to see how people are living.

So, to prove for them that I did my best managing what I could. When I met them today, I found out that they didn't eat for two days. They only ate rice.

The first thing I was thinking about was preparing a really big meal for them. And they were surprised I had barbecues and kebabs. So they had a meal? You had a meal together? A very big one. It was a very expensive one. But I was like, I'll feed you until you've had more than enough.

Wow. After fasting for two days, it was worth to provide them with something really good. Did they appreciate it? Oof, a lot. They were very happy. I was very happy also having this meal. The next day, Yusuf went to work. His family getting settled right nearby. He made it a couple hours into the day when he got a call from his youngest sister, Asil. It's too complicated.

Wait, tell me what happened with your sister. So Asil today wanted to go to the bathroom and she waited. So there is in the land next to us, they have a bathroom and they're friends of mine. And my neighbor is hosting more than 60 people. So they have to wait in line in this bathroom. It's a single bathroom. Oh, wow. Yes, and she cannot wait. She's pregnant and it's a bit embarrassing for her. And so she started to cry and then she called me.

While she was in line? So she tried several times and she was hopeless. Then she started to cry and decided to go back to Khan Yunis. She decided that and she called me and she told me, I'm leaving to Khan Yunis now. That changed the day. I had to go back to meet my sister, take her to the bathroom, spend an hour or more

I went, I stopped the line. How did the 60 people waiting respond to that? Well, it went okay. I told them no one is getting inside. No one goes to the bathroom. Until my sister finished. Was she seriously thinking about going back to Khan Yunus? I don't think so. It shows me that she needs me. I need to find a solution now. She's above the limit.

How pregnant is she? When is she due? The whole week, Yousef had been telling me he needed his family close to him.

Now they're here. They're together in Rafah. They've moved from the very north of Gaza all the way down, at the bottom edge of the Gaza Strip on the border with Egypt. Youssef was now responsible for his own camp of about 60 people, one of whom was eight months pregnant, and all of whom were looking to him to tell them, what now? What's the plan? On a Jaffe walk, coming up, things do not go like Youssef planned.

That's in a minute from Chicago Public Radio when our program continues. This is American Life. I'm Ira Glass. Today we're telling the story of Yusef Hamash. He spent months moving his family from one place to another in Gaza, trying to keep them safe. Until finally, at the end of last year, he got the model Rafa. An enormous feat that, okay, I don't want to idealize Yusef here, but there are a few people who have the special combination of

resources and familial relationships and trust and also skills and planning abilities and really luck to pull off what Yusuf just pulled off. Getting 60 people to Rafah housed and together and seemingly, for the moment, safe. So, by the beginning of this year, they're all settled in Rafah, waiting. But every day there's talk that Israel is going to launch a ground assault in Rafah next.

And Asil, Yusuf's youngest sister, is about to give birth. Again, here's Hannah. I really wanted to talk to Yusuf's sister, Asil. Once he got them all to Rafa, she was the one Yusuf was thinking about the most, talked about the most, the funny sister, the emotional sister, also the one most like Yusuf, resourceful, determined. Yusuf told me once Asil settled in Rafa, she quickly started taking things into her own hands.

First of all, the tents Yusuf built. They were too crowded and loud. Asil built her own tent with her husband. Every time Yusuf went to visit the camp, he'd find everyone in Asil's tent hanging out. She began to rebuild other parts of her life there, too. Asil's a nurse. People in the camp began bringing her their medical questions. She'd advise, follow up, try to source medications for them when she could. Asil's tent became part living room, part clinic.

Yousef had always told me Asil was his youngest and most stubborn sister. But when she arrived in Rafah, he added, she's also the least phased. Difficult things do not rattle Asil. Which is why the moment she'd called him, crying in line to the bathroom, was so alarming to him. Yeah, yeah, she usually doesn't complain. She doesn't complain. Usually Asil is the most... Between my sister, I look to Asil as the most wise person.

He's young, but he's excellent. He's in love with nursing and all of that. He reads a lot. I spoke a lot about Asil, and trust me, you would be surprised when you talk to him. It was really hard to reach Asil. Hello? Hi, Asil. This is Khanna. Hi, finally. Hi, finally. The famous sister. The internet is okay now? Yes. Okay. Did I lose you?

It was not okay. The internet is really bad. One minute, please. Okay, okay. There was no internet at the tents and hardly any cell connection. I'd try catch a seal on the internet at Yusuf's office or on her phone. Hi, Kana. Hi. Can you hear me? Yeah. Okay. We will try. Okay, okay. I learned things in scraps of conversation that were maybe two or three minutes long. Some voice memos, text messages...

Just as Asil had managed her situation at the camp, she took control of her plans for childbirth, too. Asil told me she'd never been fearful of childbirth. She'd seen lots of births as a nurse. She was actually working in labor and delivery in Gaza City when the war started. She'd imagined it. She could do it. She said, when it comes to health care matters, I'm capable of controlling the situation for myself and those around me.

When she had to flee her home, leave behind the doctor she loved and the hospital she'd planned to deliver in, Asil just made a new plan. She found a new hospital and a new doctor in Khan Yunis. When that fell apart and she fled to Rafah, Asil brought Yousuf into her planning process. In Rafah, Asil and Yousuf worked in tandem. They figured out where she could deliver: a small maternity hospital. They mapped out a route to the hospital.

Raf is so packed with traffic and people now, it can take hours to get across the city. So Yusuf studied routes and Google Maps, and he practiced driving to the hospital on back streets through farmland and bumpy dirt roads. Asil didn't want to bring a newborn back to the tent in the cold. So Yusuf asked the NRC if Asil and the baby could stay with him and the other staff living at the NRC office just for a bit after the birth. They said yes.

At the camp, they got the bathroom up and running four days after Asil arrived. By late January, Yusuf and Asil had a bathroom, a route to the hospital, and a postpartum plan. There was only one thing Asil desperately wanted that she couldn't make happen herself.

She told me in Arabic when we were finally able to talk for a longer stretch. I've always prayed that I won't give birth until there's a truce. I don't want to start experiencing labor pain before there's a truce. God willing, it will happen. Every day, there were small glimmers of a possible truce. Negotiations were underway for a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas. It was the last week of January. A seal was due February 4th.

With or without a truce, Asil and Yusuf had a plan. Then, five days before her due date, they had an unexpected dry run that tested their plan. Asil had contractions in the middle of the night. Yusuf raced her to the hospital.

It was a false alarm. The contraction subsided. But for the first time, Asil got to see what it looked like inside the hospital. When you enter the hospital, there's an unimaginable number of displaced people. It's full of displaced people. When we were standing at the door, there was a woman coming from Abasan in Khan Yunus.

They were displaced and she came to the hospital in labor. Her water had already broken. She was standing at the door waiting in line because there are five or six beds inside and they are all full. She was waiting for her turn to get examined even though she couldn't stand. The baby came out while she was waiting at the door.

You saw her give birth, Asya? Yeah. The baby is all... Yeah. Yeah, the baby is all... The baby came out and they laid her down on the floor to deliver the baby right there. There were no beds, not even in the maternity ward.

They laid her down on the floor and the midwife or the doctor came to deliver the baby with her on the ground. Wow. In front of you. Yeah. I feared that I would be in her place. I imagined myself in her place, waiting for my turn to go in for labor, but then for it to happen at the door.

That night in the hospital, everything suddenly felt very real to Asil. She was about to give birth in a tiny hospital that used to have around 20 births a day and now sometimes had 100. She would be delivering her first baby in a city that had 200,000 people just a few months ago and now had 1.5 million.

She was about to give birth in a hospital in the middle of a war that had killed 600 people inside medical facilities and obliterated the vast majority of health care services. She was about to have a child in a war where more than 10,000 children have been killed so far. A SEAL couldn't get unpregnant. She could pray for a ceasefire, but she couldn't wait for one.

Asil had imagined her birth so clearly before the war, but now she was imagining it in ways she never had before. What if she delivered at the hospital on the floor? What if she delivered in her tent alone? What if Israeli tanks came into Rafah while she was in labor?

What if she was naked, pushing a baby out when an Israeli soldier showed up at the door to her tent? Thinking about this by itself plants terror in my heart. That I could give birth and see the soldiers. The mere sight of the soldiers scares me. And what if after she delivered her baby, she started bleeding?

One horrifying thing Asil knew was happening in Gaza right now is women who hemorrhage after birth are sometimes being given hysterectomies. I've talked to doctors and a midwife in Gaza who told me this is happening. It's happening for lots of reasons. Hospitals don't have the routine medications that help stop bleeding after birth. They also don't have staff. The staff they do have don't have time.

Pregnant women are coming in malnourished, sometimes with injuries and other complications, and they're going into labor severely anemic. So if they hemorrhage after birth, which happens sometimes, things quickly become life-threatening. They're using hysterectomies in Gaza because hysterectomies can be the fastest and safest way to save lives.

Of all the very real possibilities Asil was now imagining, this was the one she feared the most. She'd deliver her baby, start bleeding, and they'd take her uterus. That night in the hospital, she begged a doctor for his attention. "'Is it safe here?' "'I'm a medical professional,' she said. "'Please help me.'" The doctor told her, "'If you can deliver somewhere else, you should.'"

Asil walked out of the hospital to the car where Yusuf was waiting and told him, I cannot have my baby here. I could see it in her eyes today. I don't think I have the capacity to translate into English what she was saying, but it's related to medical stuff that she saw with other females there. So I was like, no, I'll find you a solution. Tomorrow I'll figure it out.

Youssef began calling people he knew, asking about other options for delivering a baby in Rafah. Maybe a private doctor who could deliver outside the hospital. But those conversations quickly became other conversations. His co-workers, friends, said, but Youssef, are you seeing this? Did you see what Yoav Galant just said, the Israeli defense minister? He's saying Rafah is next. Galant, Yoav Galant, who said that when we finish...

From Khan Younis, we will go into Rafah. And that's a huge concern. For example, from where I'm staying, the Israeli tanks in Al-Aqsa University, it's less than one kilometer. I can hear the tanks moving clearly. I can hear the clashes clearly. And I think if the Israelis decided to continue the ground operation in Rafah, it's going to take them three minutes to arrive me.

When Yousef thinks of those three minutes, he's not just thinking of himself. He's thinking of the 60 people he moved from other parts of Gaza to here. He's thinking how he promised this was the safest place to be. Building that camp, hosting these families, and then if the Israelis decided to start the ground operation in Rafah,

It's going to be like an ambush. It's going to be like I create an ambush for these families, bringing families to live in that place. Then the Israelis came and killing, I don't know. It's going to be on you. Yes, at least I will feel it on me. Also their relatives, their father-in-laws, all of them are hosting them in the camp I built. So I'm also responsible at least to inform these families that it's not safe here.

I remember what happened in Chaniounis also. And they would start talking about Chaniounis and they destroyed the entire city of Chaniounis. I know. I can't believe you're in this situation again. This is exactly where you were when we talked in early December. That's a long time. That's a long time. Are you thinking about moving again? I had to think about the options that I have. If we are going, and I was thinking about Deir el-Balakh,

Why Deir el-Balah? Why was that a place that you looked at? This is the only areas that are considered safe by the Israelis. They said either Rafah or Deir el-Balah. But today I was looking for the statistics of Deir el-Balah. On a daily basis, there is at least five houses targeted in Deir el-Balah. So I have to think more twice about that. You cannot make a decision because nothing is clear. Yeah.

And did you find a doctor for Asil? Yes. Wow, you found a doctor already? Yeah. Is it incredibly expensive? She found it. We didn't agree yet, but I told him I'll pay whatever he wants. I just want to be safe and in an appropriate place and all of that. So I don't care about financial things.

February 3rd, the day before her due date, Youssef, the private doctor, and Asil agreed on a new plan. She would deliver at a clinic outside the hospital. The doctor promised they were equipped to deal with complications there without doing a hysterectomy. Five days later, February 8th, still no baby.

February 9th, the Prime Minister of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, ordered the military to develop a plan to evacuate Rafah, to clear the way for a ground assault on Rafah. That same day, I got a message from Yusuf. Asil is currently in the hospital for the birth. I called several hours later. Yusuf was outside the hospital waiting. Asil was inside with his wife and their mom. He told me the baby had arrived. She was healthy.

But he wasn't sure about his sister. She's bleeding? Yeah.

There's so many doctors around her. I was like, what's going on there? He told me that she's bleeding and they're trying to control it. And then after that, he informed me that they control it, but they have to wait a bit. Where is her husband? Was her husband there? Yeah, his husband is very young. So that's why I have to be there even to react for everything. Because I see it was like, I want you to see it. Like my mother. So many women are screaming around and

I cannot keep hearing her screaming. That's why I have to go out. I have to leave. Hello. Hi, Asil. Hi, Hannah. Hi, Mabrouk. How are you doing? Thank you. A week after she gave birth, I reached Asil and Yusuf's office. She was in bed with her mom and her new baby. She was incredibly weak and she could not walk.

Instead of the careful plan Asil and Yusuf made, she told me something very different happened. Her water broke in the middle of the night. They couldn't reach the private doctor. And Yusuf couldn't get to Asil quickly enough to drive her. So a friend took her to exactly the place she didn't want to go. To hospital.

When she got there, she waited in the hallway, just as she feared, 12 hours in labor. She was begging for a room, a bed, for someone to help her. There was no room for me. There was no anesthetics, no nothing. I couldn't stand, I couldn't sit, I couldn't do anything.

My sister spoke with the nurse there and she told her I couldn't stand in line and that I was about to give birth. There was no chair for you to sit on? No, no. There was no chairs at all. There was only the doctor's chair and I took it from her. Oh, God.

Aseel sat in the hallway on the stolen chair for more hours, more contractions. She felt the baby's head, the need to push.

Finally, they called her back, rushed her to a bed. But Asiyah looked at the bed and froze. The bed sheet on it was the same one the woman before me gave birth on. It was covered in blood. So I took it off and told them to get the cleaner to wipe the bed. While you were in labor? Yes, yes. I couldn't sit in the bed even with my pain.

I'm willing to endure the pain a bit, but in a clean place and deliver the baby in a clean, sanitized place. In bed, Asil immediately had to push. She pushed, feeling utter panic. Pushed and pushed without stopping, without breaks. She had an internal hemorrhage. The doctor made an incision to make the opening bigger. She bled more. The whole day, Asil had been directing the people around her for a chair, for a clean sheet.

But once the baby arrived, she lost control. The nurses took the baby. Then Asil hemorrhaged for three hours, while doctors tried to stop the bleeding. Five doctors came in. I couldn't stay with them. I couldn't keep my eyes open. After about an hour of stitching and 28 stitches, there was no anesthesia or anything. I was appealing to God.

28 stitches between internal and external. I couldn't speak back to them or tell them that I was dizzy. I couldn't speak to them at all. I had surrendered to the pain. He told me that if it didn't work, they'll be forced to do a hysterectomy. I kept quiet and prayed that it wouldn't happen.

I wasn't present, but I felt the thread going in. I felt the prick of the needle. I was crying a lot and praying to God that it would be the last stitch. Every time I prayed it would be the last stitch, they told me there was one more. You're almost there. This is the last one. I couldn't wait to leave the room. I couldn't move, and I was calling for my brother, saying, I can't do it, and for someone to get me out. You were calling for Yusuf?

Yeah. Why? Because he would try to control the bad things that happened to us. For me, it was like, you can help me in this matter too. Come save me. Eventually, the doctors finished the stitches and gave Asil a blood transfusion.

An obstetrician practicing in Gaza told me Asil was very lucky the hospital had blood that day. All the donated blood is from within Gaza, and most days there's not enough. Asil lost so much blood she couldn't see clearly. Normally, after hemorrhaging that much, you'd stay in the hospital for a few days.

It's hard to move. You're weak, in pain. There's danger of infection, fainting. She had the stitches. But Asil was desperate to get out of there. They told me not to leave because I couldn't get up. The stitches hurt a lot. I told them I wanted to leave because the place is not clean and because the displaced go there so you can't get rest.

Yousef came to the hospital entrance. I couldn't get myself there, so I used a chair. They didn't have a wheelchair, so I used a normal chair for support. And I walked. I took the elevator down to the car. You had to...

Like, get yourself to the elevator with the help of a chair? Yes. I used the chair to get to the elevator. And when I got down, there's a 10-meter-long hallway or something like that. Oh, my God. So I used the chair for support until I got to the car. Yousef then carried me into the car. He carried me and put me inside the car.

I didn't even pay attention to the baby's features until I got a blood transfusion and started to feel better. What did she look like when you were able to see her? When I first saw her, I said she looked a lot like Yousef and his little son.

Oh, really? Ahmed? Yeah, yeah. Did you feel happy about that? Yeah. Yeah, it was one of the longest days of my life. That picture is so beautiful of you with the baby. Yeah, and I'll take it. And I was happy and excited. Yeah. You look much skinnier. I hope it's okay to say that. Yeah, I lost so much weight, you know.

canned food. Yeah. That's fine. Yusuf said holding the baby, he felt immense relief. It reduced all that pressure that I was having for a couple of months about that moment. And finally I reached it. It was a dream of hope. And I was waiting to have that feeling all of that period, all that pressure in my head every day about the pregnancy, when she's going to do the birth, where, blah, blah, blah, all of that. It's over.

He got Asil and the baby home from the hospital, or at least to the office that is now home, where he'd created a bed for them to share with his mom. Everyone went to sleep. That night, at one in the morning, Yusuf woke up to bombing.

It was louder and brighter than anything he'd experienced in Rafah before. It felt like it was right nearby, inside Rafah. I was shaking, huge bombardments, children screaming. I thought that the Israelis, they start the operation and I would find the tanks in front of my place and that's it. I was about to put on my underwear because this is the way they take us men, wearing only underwear. Wait, why were you going to put on your underwear?

So usually, actually I was joking, but usually there's ladies when they collect men, whenever they go on the ground and they collect men above 16 years old wearing only underwear. You mean they make them take off their clothes? Yeah. Oh, that's a dark thought to have in the middle of the night.

Actually, I was joking. I was telling Manal that my wife, I need to prepare the underwears. It should be warm. It's part of our life experience, so sorry. It's kind of a joke. I know it's a dark humor, but that's me. What did your wife say? Yeah.

It wasn't actually the right moment to make jokes. I don't usually find the right timing to make jokes. Manal was not appreciating your joke at that moment. No. Yeah, we had to collect the kids between us and trying to warm them and to calm them. So we tried to get them back to sleep, but because nothing we can do more than that.

In the morning, Youssef was finally able to get online and figure out what just happened the night before. That night, Israel rescued two Israeli hostages from Rafah, two older men who'd been held captive for months since October 7th. And Israel killed, according to the Gaza Health Ministry, at least 94 Palestinians. Amnesty International says half the people killed in Rafah that night were children, including a two-week-old baby girl.

That was Asil's first night out of the hospital, in bed with her mom next to her, praying through six hours of bombing and the baby crying. I couldn't move or anything. I was scared. I waited for Yousef to come down in the morning and asked him if there's going to be a ground invasion in Rafah because I couldn't walk.

I couldn't carry the baby and stand. Yeah. What did he say? He said, don't worry, that won't happen. I told him all I was worried about happened. Waiting in line in the hospital happened. The difficult labor happened. And now they are entering here? No, at least this one shouldn't happen.

Are you starting to doubt his reassurances when he says, don't worry? No. For me, what he says is what happens. I believe him. Right now, there are dozens of people waiting to see what Youssef says, what he's lining up for them next. He's launched into overdrive, calling friends, colleagues, carefully parsing official statements on a possible Rafah invasion.

and looking for a place they could flee to, a building that's still standing, a piece of land he can rent and build tents. Exactly what he was doing when I first called him back in early December. Only now, he's exhausted. He's skinnier. His sister just had a baby and can't walk. Yusuf has been quite ill several times. And 30,000 Palestinians have been killed since the war started. And it's not over.

Right now, for the first time since Yusuf began moving his family on October 8th to keep them safe, Yusuf is not finding options. This time, there really may not be anywhere to go. Actually, to be honest, I don't want to think about that because I know there's no solution. And it's going to be just a headache to go through details, what I will do, what Asil, what about Hadil, what about Hiba, what about Salsabil, what about my wife and the children, my mother and

It's responsibility above responsibility. And unfortunately, this time I'm completely useless because I ran out of options. When I think about it deeply, there is no solution. There is no option ahead of me. So what I'm going to do? I have never heard you talk like that, Youssef.

I've never heard you say that. You're always the guy that's like, yeah, I'll figure it out. I'll call so-and-so tomorrow. No, we don't have it right now, but I'll figure it out. I don't have enough resources to manage this now. It's, it's, it's,

I'm calling my friends who are scattered everywhere in Gaza and they just keep searching, but I cannot find them.

My friend called me several times, actually. I need to talk to him. Maybe I can call you back after. Sure, sure. Yeah, OK. Just to try to get some news from you. OK. OK. Thank you, Hannah. Thank you. OK. Bye. Thank you. Bye. Bye. Bye. Hannah Jaffe-Wald is one of the producers of our show.

Our program is produced and edited today by Nancy Updike. People who put together today's show include Jane Ackerman, Jendayi Bonds, Sean Cole, Michael Kamate, Catherine Raimondo, Safia Riddle, Ryan Rummery, Laura Starczewski, Frances Swanson, Christopher Sotala, Matt Tierney, Julie Whitaker, and Diane Wu. Our managing editors, Sara Abdurrahman. Our senior editors, David Kestenbaum. Our executive editors, Emmanuel Barry. Arabic interpreters and translators and research help from Emna Jalal, Nabil Shaukat, and Hani Hawassli.

Asil's English translation was read for us by Tara Abud. Casting out from Sabrina Hyman, special thanks to Shana Lowe, Anas Baba, Brian Kastner, Dvor Sadot, Mark Glasgow, Dr. Debbie Harrington, Dr. Tanya Haj Hassan, and Anja Bejold.

Our website, thisamericanlife.org, where you can stream our archive of over 800 episodes for absolutely free. Also, there's videos, there's lists of favorite shows to help you find something to listen to when you want to listen to it. Again, thisamericanlife.org. This American Life is delivered to public radio stations by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange. Thanks as always to our program's co-founder, Mr. Torrey Malatia. I'm Ira Glass. Back next week with more stories of This American Life.