Deir al-Balah, Gaza Three-year-old Hanan Al-Dokki spends her days with her younger sister, Misk, and sometimes asks questions.

“Where’s mama?”

“Where did my leg go?”

The two children had been in the hospital for four months since they were brought there. They were beaten and bleeding due to Israeli bombing, and their legs had been amputated.

Their father’s sister, Shifa Al-Dokki, 28, has been by their side since then, but she still does not know how to answer the girls’ questions.

“Stuck in a nightmare”

On the morning of September 2, Shaima Al-Dokki woke up early to take her two daughters – 22-month-old Hanan and Misk – to get the polio vaccine, which was being offered to people in the midst of the Israeli war on Gaza.

The next day, after the family had lunch, Israel bombed their home in Deir al-Balah.

It killed 25-year-old Shaima, wounded the rest of the family, including her husband, Muhammad al-Dokki, and tore off the legs of the two young girls.

Hanan was seriously injured, losing both of her legs – one above the knee and one below – and had injuries all over her body, including her face and intestines. She had to undergo surgery to remove part of her intestine.

Meanwhile, little Misk had to have her left foot amputated.

Their father, Muhammad (31 years old), remained in intensive care for two weeks due to a brain hemorrhage and chest injuries.

“We have been trapped in a nightmare for four months,” says Shiva, trying to calm Hanan, who has become fragile and volatile since the attack.

Both girls are in a state of panic and fear, constantly clinging to their aunt.

She tries to comfort them, but often finds herself crying for the little girls, partly out of sadness and partly out of fear about what the future holds for them.

“All I can tell her now is that her mother is in heaven. What kind of future do they have to look forward to?

“How will it be? [they] How do they feel when they grow up and see how different they are from other children their age? How will Hanan wear the clothes she loves so much?

“What do I say when you ask for nice dresses or shoes?”

“It is more difficult for Hanan because she understands more than her sister, and her injuries were much more serious.”

The hospital and its staff work in an overcrowded and ill-equipped environment, such that there is no possibility to provide psychological support to the girls.

Staring at other kids’ legs

Shifa, a mother of three children, takes turns taking care of the two girls, moving between their grandmother, the mother of the late Shaima, their uncle Ahmed (29 years old), and their father, who stays with them at night.

Whenever they can, adults bring small gifts to the girls, whatever they can find in the markets. Girls often ask for toys, but can’t find any, so they have to make do with whatever small accessories and sweets their families can find.

Shifa says that Ahmed is the most fun person for the girls, as he plays with them and takes them out of their room to inspect the rest of the hospital.

“None of us can and will never replace the mother,” Shiva says, her eyes red and tears streaming down her eyes.

“I will never forget Hanan’s look when I brought my daughter Hala, who was her age, to visit them,” Shifa recalls.

“Hanan stared at Hala’s legs, then at her amputated legs, confused. Before her injury, they ran and played together all the time.

Shifaa, who used to live in Jabalia but was displaced with her family a year ago to her family home in Deir al-Balah, said, “Now they are playing on the hospital bed.”

Since the girls are in a rapid growth stage, they were kept in the hospital for continuous monitoring of their long bones. The physical therapy that the hospital can give them is not consistent enough to help them much.

They draw, play with visitors, or play with their adult companion’s mobile phone to pass the time.

Mother’s love

When the Israeli war on Gaza began, Shaima was overcome by fear for her daughters.

She couldn’t eat or sleep, and she lost a lot of weight because she was worried about finding the food and formula the girls needed.

She was always devoted to her daughters, spending time with them and working to provide them with everything they wanted.

Especially little Hanan, who loved to wear clothes and took great care of her dresses and shoes.

Shifa adds: “Shaima loved them.”

When polio vaccines were released in Gaza and Israel agreed to allow the campaign to proceed without harassment, Shaima was determined that her daughters would at least have that protection.

She encouraged her sisters and brothers-in-law to do the same.

“Of course, we were all afraid of any harm to our children. But what’s the point? Children get protection from polio, but then an Israeli airstrike kills their legs? How does that make any sense?” Shiva adds.

Waiting for recovery

Hanan and Misk cannot complete their recovery in Gaza because Israel has destroyed the health sector, so their names have been put on a list of people who need to leave Gaza to receive treatment.

The World Health Organization is collecting the names on the list, but no one can leave unless Israel agrees to their departure, and it has not agreed to the girls’ departure yet.

“We have waited more than three months. They are just little girls [who] Urgent need for prosthetic limbs. “Their psychological condition is deteriorating,” says Shiva.

It’s not just prosthetic limbs that girls can’t get in Gaza. They must be fully evaluated and undergo a rehabilitation process before prosthetics are considered.

Because Hanan and Misk are still growing, their age-related bone growth will also pose challenges that will require continuous monitoring and possibly several surgeries.

What Shiva knows is that the lives of the young girls will never be the same again.

She says: “Hanan wants to wear shoes, and she asks me why she can’t… why she can’t go play in the park.”

“I don’t have answers.”