The Orphans of Gaza: How Can We Help?

PALESTINE - ISRAEL, 11 Mar 2024

Elizabeth West – TRANSCEND Media Service

Gaza children Palestinian Holocaust – France 24

8 Mar 2024 – I’ve a bee in my bonnet when it comes to the children of Gaza, and so far, no means to swat it away. Maybe you have one too?

Here’s the background on ‘my’ bee. The official death toll in Gaza is now above 30,000. Of that figure, accrued in just 22 weeks, about 70% were women and children, and a goodly portion of the rest were non-combatant males. Just under half the population of Gaza—prior to the current massacre—were kids. By my estimate, that would add up to about 21,000 individual women and children killed, of whom approximately 12,300 would have been youths.

These numbers are cyphers, little bits of fact that are supplied to us, but which fall profoundly short of describing the carnage. They are nothing more than snapshots of the Israeli-wrought destruction, devoid of any hint of the vast humanity lost, the complexity, the richness, the wisdom, the stories–small and large.

The tiny victims we see, white-shrouded or hanging limply in their elders’ arms, being lamented before burial in shallow graves, were children. They were not Hamas, nor were they PIJ. They never voted. For anyone. They never plotted against the Zionist occupiers. They were never in a position to participate in a coup against Hamas, as many Western officials seem to believe the Gazans ought to have done–and for which failure Israel insists they are culpable, deserving of their own deaths.

These heartbreaking juvenile fatalities are well documented and often cited to illustrate the massive war crimes being committed by Israel.

THOSE WHO ARE LIVING

That said, here is the bee itself: there are other groups of kids whose plight is of equal and possibly even more pressing concern, whose situation, while noted, currently gets less attention. To begin with, there are the children labeled WCNSF, or ‘Wounded Child, No Surviving Family.’  Some of these kids have lost entire extended families along with their own eyes, legs, arms, hands, feet and voices. Next, there are those who have survived with bodies as-of-yet intact, but who are all alone in a world with little food or water or shelter, where bombs rain from the sky, and familiar landmarks are reduced to rubble each day.

The total adult death count to date—approximately 17,700– comprised innumerable mothers and fathers, uncles, grandparents, aunts, and older siblings. The very people who would naturally care for the most vulnerable, the children. The ones who would procure food and water and blankets for them, nurse them when they fall ill. The people who would help them locate a center of sanity in the midst of complete madness. Who would love them–arguably the most essential element to meaningful survival–even while every other aspect of their lives is shattered. The Israelis are not just eradicating people, they are destroying the very vital social networks that we all count on to ensure that our young survive and thrive, physically and emotionally.

I find myself wondering: what happens to these children? UNICEF estimated there to be about 19,000 orphans in Gaza a month ago. The organization Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor, chaired by Richard Falk, put that number closer to 25,000 as far back as early December. We can be pretty sure the real numbers are higher. These are cold hard figures again, but for some context, can we try to imagine the unimaginable? Think of every single child in Athens, Georgia violently orphaned in a matter of just five months, and then consider the magnitude of that loss. Add in widespread displacement, homelessness, war and famine, and a sense of what the number really means begins to emerge.

Let’s start with the physical needs: where will they live? Who will care for them? We are looking at a huge contingent of children who are in need of places to live in a land where 70% of homes have been destroyed. Family, including extended family, are the universally preferred options for children who have lost their parents. But for many of these kids, all vestiges of family have been wiped out.

Not only are their homes and families gone, but they are almost certainly traumatized in ways and to an extent we have limited experience in addressing. Given that some solution will at length be found to house and feed them, who, then, will help them find a way to get out of bed each morning, learn to sing again, play with others, swim without fear in their beautiful sea?

Children are resilient, it is frequently noted, and perhaps truly, but no one should just bounce back from what these kids have endured. The human mind and heart are not made to do that. These children, if they survive the genocide, are going to need various kinds of support and intervention in order to keep on living with some sense of purpose and dignity. The buzzing bee asks: What can I do right now to assist in the generation of structures that will help to meet these massive challenges?

When I spoke recently with Zeiad Abbas Shamrouch, Executive Director at the Middle East Children’s Alliance (MECA), he acknowledged the breadth of the needs of the orphans of Gaza, but expressed a rather obvious position, shared by most organizations dedicated to the well-being of Palestinian children: Just let us do the first action to stop the genocide, and then we can discuss what is next. For now, he explained, MECA workers in Gaza are intent upon getting food, water and shelter to all of Gaza’s children, and to those who care for them. MECA, like so many NGOs concerned with Palestinian welfare, are very sensibly laser-focused on saving lives today. Only after the immediate and lethal threats are neutralized will they be at liberty to turn their attention fully toward helping Gazans heal and rebuild.

Many of us–myself and those reading this—are citizens of countries that have actively aided and abetted this slaughter. Our tax dollars have purchased the bombs, our elected leaders have winked and nodded, even applauded Netanyahu and his accomplices as they spew racist and genocidal hatred in service of their massacre. About a month ago, a number of our governments defunded UNRWA (based on rock solid ‘evidence’ from the ever-mendacious IDF and Shin Bet), leading to accelerated starvation of Gaza’s children at a critical moment when famine and disease are rampant.

It’s true, and worth noting, that many of us are doing what we can to stop or slow the killing. We are organizing, marching, getting arrested and clogging the courts, insisting that our voices be heard in the AIPAC-infiltrated halls of government. We are praying, we are writing and pleading, sending money as we are able.

As we demand ceasefire, we can think concurrently about the kids, alive but without family. I feel an obligation, foremost because of our shared humanity, but also because I live in the country most complicit in creating this catastrophe. In order to shush that bee, I am compelled to do something to counteract the obscene violence that has robbed these children of their families, their homes, their schools, their friends, their teachers, their pets, their ability to feel safe, and to an unknown–but surely considerable–extent, their capacity to grow into the beautiful multi-faceted humans their parents believed was their birthright.

This is a situation that requires visionary solutions encompassing the needs of the whole child– spiritual, emotional and physical. It is one there has been relatively little discussion of to date, and yet there is no doubt that it is and will continue to be a complex and urgent issue. As Zeiad noted, stopping the killing is first, but for those of us not living under Israeli assault, those of us with the luxury to simply turn on the tap to obtain water to boil for coffee, rummage in the fridge for something to eat, pick up our phones and computers at will to communicate, the capacity to contemplate possible answers exists in this moment.

WELL-INTENDED AND (likely) MISGUIDED

Some people are at work seeking these answers; I’ve encountered mention of plans to resettle orphaned children in the US. Although this is a tempting idea in some regards, I have grave concerns. Right off the bat, the transparent Zionist objective is and always has been to remove all Palestinians from the land of their ancestors and further, to dismantle their culture and identity such that they disappear into the diaspora. Transplanting Gaza’s children to the US, the UK or EU countries—no matter the intent– enables that criminal and illegal Zionist intention.

For the kids themselves, separation from the familiar sensory landmarks–the sounds, smells, food, music, language—would be another huge and disorienting loss. Even placed with the most well-meaning and culturally aligned families in the West–and I know there are wonderful people who would open their hearts and homes without hesitation–I strongly suspect that the discordance, the loss of what little remains of ‘home,’ heaped on top of the injuries they are already carrying, would be insurmountable for many kids.

Adoption in the Islamic world, in my rudimentary understanding, is not seen in the same way as it is in the US and Europe. While raising another’s biological child is not uncommon, particularly in the case of orphans, there is an emphasis placed upon maintaining that child’s birth ties, a tradition which would run counter to sending children to far-off places.

All kids deserve to be cared for and to have their needs met; after a trauma like the one suffered by the young people of Gaza, we must consider their intrinsic need to be Palestinian as one of the most paramount. The complete destruction of the lives they were leading on October 6^th is almost certain to be one of, if not the, defining event of their lives. This seminal trauma occurred solely because they were born Palestinian. For that reason alone, anything that might undermine their identity as Palestinian would, in my view, be a failure to meet those needs.

There are a host of reasons, then, not to go down the road of ‘resettling’ these kids outside of Palestine and the Middle East. While it might be a seemingly open-hearted reaction to the critical situation of these children, it is clearly not a plan that speaks to most of these children’s best interests.

Possibly of equal importance and broader significance is the recognition that answers to the question ‘how can we help the orphans of Gaza?’ must come from Palestinians. To my knowledge, no one in Palestine is yet asking for Americans or Europeans to rush in and scoop up their orphaned children en masse. This notion arises primarily from within the US and UK, and while I understand the personal satisfaction it might offer to anyone wanting to adopt, in most cases it will not truly help the children.

WHAT MIGHT REAL HELP LOOK LIKE?

So what can we do? How can those of us who feel compelled, help in a way that is actually… helpful?  I turned to a book by Ram Dass and Paul Gorman titled How Can I Help?.  It is a wonderful compilation of anecdotes and clear thinking about helping, about that which tends to underlie much of our helpfully-intended efforts. The book includes ideas and guidance about how to offer our love and support in ways that truly center the person or people we wish to show up for. One of the key messages I gleaned from it points to the profound power—and often, incredible challenge– of simply being fully present with someone else’s pain. Opening and closing the shades, plumping the pillows, getting more ice for the water jug—these all may be, Ram Dass and Gorman suggest, more for our own benefit than for that of a loved one lying gravely ill in a hospital bed. The person in that bed is in fact to some degree abandoned by the fussing and fixing of our ‘helping.’ Instead, they say—and I paraphrase–sit with the suffering, join in it, honor it. Be authentically with that person where they are, listen for what it is that they articulate about their needs, and if action is required, do your best to respond.

Getting more ice is indeed very helpful, when it is wanted. Tending to our own fear, grief, anger, and discomfort by ‘fixing’ things is surely understandable, but often not that helpful to the other.  Sometimes it isn’t solely about what we do in the face of another’s calamity, but about the quality of how we show up. In other words, be clear about whose needs are being addressed.

The bee in my bonnet has a terrible time simply sitting with the suffering of Palestinians, orphaned or not. I am angry and torn up and I want to act, to do my little bit to alleviate both their suffering and admittedly, the burden that it places on my heart. I am trying to listen as best I can, and what I hear is the people of Gaza imploring us to get more ice and open the blinds, to act on their behalf. To do what we can to make Israel and its allies to stop the savage war on civilians.

I’m sure I will keep searching for ideas about how to support the orphans–but against that backdrop, I will persist fiercely in doing the things I can to stop the killing. This has to be primary, not only because it is a clear prerequisite for beginning the process of reconstituting normal life, but because when I listen, this is what Palestinians say they need.

And while I do that, the bee drones on and I think ahead: where will these children best be served? In orphanages within the inevitable Palestinian refugee settlements?  Could I be raising the money to enable the Palestinian social workers, doctors, and therapists of all sorts who might provide the staffing for such facilities? Should I think about finding ways to make it economically possible for Palestinian or even other Arab families to foster or adopt, to take on sponsorship of individual kids? What else can I do?

There is just a glimmer of hope for that elusive ceasefire before the beginning of Ramadan, which means that the work of mending and rebuilding could begin sooner than I have previously imagined. In keeping with the guidance I have received from Palestinians, I will give to any of a number of incredible organizations that are feeding and sheltering Gaza’s kids, preserving life so that the possibility of healing itself remains alive. I will harass my elected officials in every way I can to shame them into using their power to stop the genocide. It is not yet time to act on my concerns about the orphans, so I will wait for Palestinian leadership on this issue. I will be patient, try to engage others in thinking about the orphans in Gaza, so that a cadre is ready when a direction is identified.

Multi-faceted global collapse adds a layer to the challenges these children face. The speed with which each new disaster succeeds the last leaves us all at risk for inconstancy. It is not hard to believe that three months after the indiscriminate slaughter in Gaza ends, most of us currently transfixed will have moved on to the next emergency. But this is one excruciating debacle for which some of us bear direct responsibility, and we must not turn away from it. As Philippe Lazzarini of UNRWA said, “An entire generation of children is traumatized, and will take years to heal.” [Emphasis mine.] Our bombs did that. Our winks, nods and hugs did that.

I hope that we will show up and stay present, do all we can to make healing a viable option for as many of the orphans of Gaza as possible. It may not be apparent just yet how that will transpire, but the hard work of regenerating lives and community requires not only creativity, commitment, and consistency, but a willingness to listen with great respect.

This may or may not call to you, but if it does, and if you have your own bee, let its buzzing serve to keep you from complacency. Let us be poised to help in earnest, to hear clearly what is needed so that we can offer something of real value. Let us resolve to do all we can to show up for Palestinian-led efforts to rebuild the networks that support life and love, those that have been blown apart by Israeli-dropped US bombs. Let us not allow the next riveting train-wreck to distract us or to banish the orphans of Gaza from our hearts and minds. These innocent and innately worthy children deserve—at a minimum—meaningful help. They are our fellow humans, little ones, and we must not allow them to be abandoned yet again.

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Elizabeth West lives and writes in Joe Biden’s hometown, making resistance all the more essential.  Her writing has appeared in CounterPunch, Common Dream, Dissident Voice, Countercurrents and Uncommon Thought.

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This article originally appeared on Transcend Media Service (TMS) on 11 Mar 2024.

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