ip Gazawhere despair is everywhere, hope is the vital currency offered to children and their families by Dr Yasser Abu Jamey, the psychiatrist who runs Gaza’s largest mental health charity.
“Without hope, we can’t give anything to these families, to these children,” said Abu Jammey, who has led the Gaza community for the past 12 years. health Program (GCMHP). “Without hope, we wouldn’t be here. We cannot give up on the 1 million children who live in Gaza, overwhelmed every day by the hardships they face. We have to find hope in their lives.”
Even before this war, four out of five children in Gaza they lived in depression, fear and sorrow.
More than a year of intense bombing, displacement and the 17-year Israeli/Egyptian blockade that restricts freedom of movement have compounded the trauma, so now, almost all of the 1.2 million children in the Palestinian Territory they are said to need mental health support.
This year, supported by the charity War Child, the organization treated 3,000 people in its four community centers in Gaza. The 90 team members have also offered one-off psychological support to at least 30,000 people living in tents, shelters, schools and bombed-out buildings.
They only scratch the surface of the need, says the psychiatrist.
“Gaza’s population of 2.1 million, 90% of whom are now displaced in overcrowded shelters, have been severely affected psychologically. But without enough food or clean water, they are in survival mode,” says Abu Jamey.
Children take on the roles of adults standing in line for groceries or searching for empty milk and juice cartons that they can burn to keep warm. There is no time to complain to relatives or even parents. For 17,000 of Gaza’s children are separated or unaccompanied, according to UNICEF.
Paradoxically, Abu Jammey says, often when the worst of the bombing is over, people seek mental health support. Then there is a time to reflect and a time to grieve.
“During war, people are in survival mode. When there is a ceasefire, their attention will turn to other needs, such as education, and their psychological symptoms will begin to emerge. Usually three to four weeks after a ceasefire, we get an influx of people seeking support.
GCMHP, which is supported by War Child, one of this year’s three Guardian and Observer appeal charities, offers counselling, support and “psychological first aid kits” to families. Simple things like drawing materials for children can allow a break for conversation in overcrowded canvas and plastic tent camps where the displaced civilians of this war have no privacy.
“We’ve been impressed with how parents have responded positively to these kits,” says Abu Jamey. “They are overjoyed to see their children drawing and it makes a difference in the family.”
Over many years of working with families traumatized by years of conflict in Palestine, he has learned that children often respond to toys as prompts to better explain their feelings.
“Through drawing they can speak. You can then talk to the parents, give advice on what they can do to calm their children and themselves and somehow reduce what they are dealing with. And that makes a really big difference.”
Abu Jammey says very few families are unaffected by the war and the long-running regional conflict. He knows this all too well – in 2014. an Israeli rocket killed 28 members of his extended family. This year, after being moved several times to temporary shelters, the father of six made the difficult decision to leave the area. While in Cairo, where he now lives, he learns that the house he built in Gaza has been reduced to rubble.
He suffers from “survivor’s guilt,” he says. But he accepts being out of Gaza to work with mental health professionals on better treatment methods and with the international community and donors. He keeps going even though the outlook in Gaza is bleak, hearing about the positive impact his team is having. “We’re trying to put a smile on the kids’ faces,” he says.
It gets daily updates via WhatsApp when intermittent wifi works. Last week he heard from a social worker and psychologist with 15 years of experience. Visiting camps in Deir al-Balah, she was told of a mother deeply concerned about her 12-year-old son, who stopped eating and speaking after his friends were killed in front of his eyes.
“The social worker went to that tent, to that beautiful boy who had bright eyes. She said, “I know you haven’t spoken in three days. I’m just here to listen to you, to give you space for whatever comes to your mind.
“For 15 minutes they sat in silence, then the child started crying. Then, in the first words he spoke after the attack, he said: “I saw my friends dying in an apartment. They told me they had gone to heaven, but one of my friends, when they found him, was beheaded. How can he go to heaven without his head?
“The psychologist was able to calm him down by telling him that heaven is a different reality and he needn’t worry. She persuaded him, “Let’s have something to eat together.” The mother was so grateful, she was moved to tears to see her child crying and eating. It’s really important for people to be able to express themselves and grieve for their loved ones.”
Abu Jamey does not discuss politics; he concentrates on his team and their patients, but says he believes in the ceasefire because he has to. He also called on the international community to keep an eye on Gaza, especially when the war ends.
“It is very important that we maintain that hope among our supporters and also among the international community.” Because if you give up on us and we give up on our people, then what will happen? It shouldn’t be like that. We learn from history that injustice cannot go on forever.”