we are not numbers
emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights
The plight of disabled children prevented from leaving Gaza to access treatment and care.
Mohammad (r) and Adam (l), affectionately known as Hamoud and Adoum, attempt to stand during a family gathering. Photo: Fatima Abu Zer
“Happy birthday to Hamoud and Adoum! God willing, by their next birthday, both of them will be walking.” This was the phrase everyone repeated on the twins’ fifth birthday. The celebration was beautiful, and the boys were happy. But their parents, Fatima and Ahmad, my uncle and aunt, had been waiting for years to see their sons take even a single proper step.
Fatima, like any mother in the world, was overwhelmed with joy when she knew she was pregnant with twin boys, the first twins in the family. The long-awaited babies were born in 2021. They were so tiny, like little dolls. The twins seemed healthy, and all their cousins waited for the day they would start walking and come play with us. Ahmad was a modest man. He was delighted by their arrival, but he also knew how much responsibility raising twins would bring, given his circumstances.
The twins were still not walking after their first birthday. Fatima grew concerned and asked a doctor, who replied, “Because they’re twins, they’ll walk later than other children.” But Fatima felt there was some other problem. She took them to a specialist, and, after examinations, it became clear that they had cerebral palsy caused by oxygen deprivation at birth.
The twins were beautiful children, and everyone adored them. We all started thinking about their future and what their lives would be like if they reached adulthood unable to walk.
But no one suffered more than Fatima. At only 24 years old, she found herself the mother of two physically disabled children. The heartbreak was visible in her eyes, and the sadness remained behind her smile. Ahmad felt helpless. He had worried about raising twins, and now he worried even more because they were twins living with a disability. Once the initial shock passed, they began searching for a solution. After the medical evaluations were completed, intensive physical therapy appeared to be the best option for children their age.
Adam, after his surgery. Photo: Fatima Abu Zer
They began treatment at a rehabilitation center. It was not easy for either the twins or Fatima. The boys would be strapped for hours to a rigid wooden frame intended to straighten their legs. Their cries never stopped because of the pain. Fatima cried with them, pleading with the therapists to stop. Often, she was asked to leave the treatment room because she could not bear hearing them scream.
The therapy sessions continued for five months. Each month brought only slight improvement, but their hopes grew. The twins’ grandfather longed to see them walk and insisted on accompanying Fatima to appointments, helping her carry them and supporting her through the process.
Their grandfather died in September 2023, and all of us felt as though the hope of seeing the twins walk died with him.
Then came the war in October, stealing away even more of the little hope that was left. Most hospitals and rehabilitation centers were destroyed. Fatima fled with the twins from the far east of Gaza to the far south. Life came to a halt, and so did the twins’ treatment. Their condition worsened, and the progress achieved through months of therapy was lost.
The war grew harsher as the twins grew older, and the burden on their parents increased. Ahmad’s focus shifted entirely to keeping them safe and finding enough food for the family. Physical therapy centers stopped functioning, and medical efforts were redirected toward the rapidly increasing number of war casualties.
After a year and a half of war, Ahmad resolved to continue searching for treatment. Like Fatima had done before him, he knocked on every hospital door and consulted every doctor he could find.
“The twins are getting older, and their chances of recovery are shrinking. Their condition requires advanced physical therapy techniques only available outside Gaza, followed by a specific surgical procedure. However, we can attempt a tendon-lengthening operation here.”
Those words echoed endlessly in Ahmad’s mind: “outside Gaza”. The word “attempt” made his heart race. Fatima and Ahmad were terrified, but they decided to proceed. The twins were three and a half years old at the time, and already noticeably different from their peers.
Both boys underwent surgery on both legs under general anesthesia. The burden on Fatima grew. Displacement was exhausting, and caring for two children who could not walk even more so. The surgeries left the twins in significant pain, and requiring even more care, yet Fatima refused to lose hope. She would not allow the war to extinguish her determination to help her sons.
She waited impatiently for their wounds to heal, dreaming of the moment she would see her children walk like other children. But joy seems forbidden to many families in Gaza. Five months after the surgeries and follow-up appointments, the twins’ condition had not improved at all.
Since the twins’ birth, four children had been born into the extended family. They played, laughed and ran around the twins. Often, the other children did not want to include the twins in these games because they could not participate. The pain in Fatima’s eyes was impossible to miss. The grey hair spreading through Ahmad’s hair and beard spoke volumes without words.
“Mama, why don’t my legs move like Habiba’s and Alia’s?” This innocent question from Adam, our Adoum, marked the beginning of his understanding that he was different. For Fatima and Ahmad, it felt like the final blow.
The words “outside Gaza” grew louder in Ahmad’s mind. Despite his limited means, he began searching for a doctor willing to write a medical report stating that the twins’ condition could not be adequately treated inside Gaza, and that they required treatment elsewhere.
Every doctor refused. Many agreed with the medical reality, but explained that such referrals were being prioritized for war casualties and cancer patients.
Ahmad carried the twins’ medical files from Khan Younis to hospitals all across Gaza, searching for answers. Every attempt ended in disappointment.
Fatima often uses artificial intelligence tools to edit photographs of the twins, creating images in which they are standing like other children. She uses these pictures as her phone wallpaper because they bring her comfort. Yet every glance at those images also deepens her heartbreak. Ahmad refuses to look at them, fearing they will only intensify his longing and hope.
Today, the twins are five years old. Fatima still carries them to the bathroom, and to medical appointments. Even a visit to the doctor has become a difficult mission. With transportation scarce and unreliable, Ahmad and Fatima are often forced to carry both boys over long distances on foot.
Family outings have gradually disappeared from their lives. Seeing children their age walking and playing only raises more questions from the twins, and often leaves them in tears.
Mohammad takes first steps with the help of a walker. Photo: Fatima Abu Zer
The twins are remarkably intelligent. They know the names of animals in both Arabic and English. They have never been to kindergarten, but they can add and subtract numbers. They possess strong social intelligence, and warm, resilient personalities. They hold their pencils steady, despite never receiving the educational opportunities available to most children their age.
Eventually, Ahmad decided to knock on the final door available to him. He contacted a journalist and asked for an interview, hoping to make the world hear his voice, and perhaps revive a spark of hope in his and Fatima’s hearts.
For four years, they have pursued every possible avenue: physical therapy, surgery, attempts to secure a medical referral, and, finally, appeals through the media. Their efforts have been relentless, but success has remained elusive. The pain continues, with only one dream sustaining them, the day they see the twins running through the gates of their school.
Mohammad and Adam urgently need their conditions to be evaluated, and a solution found before it is too late. They have already turned five years old, and as they grow older the possibility of successful treatment diminishes.
They have the right to medical care. They have the right to leave Gaza to access treatment that could help them walk. And Fatima has the right to celebrate her twins’ sixth birthday without hearing the words: “God willing, next year they’ll be walking.”
This article is co-published with Washington Report on Middle East Affairs in a slightly revised format.
