Please, treat her like your daugher
‘For the love of God, treat her as your daughter.’
Seven years later, his words still ring in my ears; the plea of a desperate father watching his severely burnt daughter tormented by suffering. Back then, I didn’t have a daughter of my own - I do now. I hear his words in my head unexpectedly, intrusively; as I feed my baby, as I comfort her through colic, as I watch her sleep serenely.
‘Treat her as your daughter.’
Sometimes, alongside his voice, I get a flashback to that terrible scene. In an almost hallucinatory experience, I see and hear his daughter, Siham, wailing, beseeching her dad to make the pain stop, as he looks on helplessly, begging me in turn to help her.
I swore to him that I was doing all I could, that I was treating her as my own daughter, but the truth was, it wasn’t looking good. She’d been rushed into my field hospital in North Syria alongside dozens of other severely burnt children after the Syrian regime bombed her school. She had over 60% burns to her body - her clothes were hanging off her and an awful, gut-wrenching smell of burnt flesh hung thickly in the air. I, and the rest of the hospital team, were desperately trying to treat the overwhelming number of child casualties with our limited medical resources. It was a scene from Armageddon.
After we’d stabilised them and given the treatment we could, Siham and the other victims were transferred to hospitals in Turkey as they needed intensive care therapy that we couldn’t provide in our rudimentary facility. I didn’t know what had become of them until recently.
I found out only last month that Siham had passed on, unable to survive the devastating burns that had ravaged her body.
It hit me hard. I’d hoped that against the odds she’d make it. I was filled with sadness and anger and so many questions. How can this happen? How can it be that we’ve come to accept and allow the deliberate bombing of children and schools?
Siham was killed by a “conventional” weapon; an incendiary bomb or “ball of fire that fell from the sky”; a fireball that burns through metal and flesh. A type of bomb that has been illegal to use against civilians, and internationally agreed a war crime, since 1980 because of the extreme harm it causes. The attack on Siham’s school was captured by a BBC film crew who were following me at that time to make a documentary called ‘Saving Syria’s Children’. The link is here if you want to watch it and the attack starts from 30.38minutes in (please note: it is a difficult watch).
This wasn’t an isolated war crime; there have been 385 confirmed bombings of schools in Syria since the attack that killed Siham; she was one of at least 160 children killed
and 343 injured whilst at school in just that year. And now, 2.4 million children are out of school, missing out on their education and their futures, as the attacks continue. Not only do these attacks cause profound physical injuries and disabilities, but also enormous emotional and mental trauma - for both the children and for those, like me, trying to heal them - as well as fuelling the refugee crisis as parents scoop their children up and try to get them to safer shores.
Now, I have a daughter, and 7 years later Siham's suffering still haunts me. I cannot imagine the pain her father has been through and I ask myself, ‘what if we did treat all children as our children? What if I wasn’t only mama to Naya but to everyone’s daughters? What if my daughter had thousands of parents caring for her wellbeing?’
What kind of world do we want our children to live in? I know it’s certainly not one where fireballs are launched at children, where 1 in 6 children live in a war zone and it’s not one where children are bombed, maimed, traumatised or killed by war - not just accidentally but criminally, as targets. I will spend my life working to create the peaceful, joyful, healthy world that we all want. Where my child and all our children are not just surviving but thriving. I’m committed to protecting and saving children affected by war by providing healthcare on the frontlines and speaking truth to power. At CanDo, we work with frontline health workers treating children like Siham every day, providing access to critical healthcare and advocating for their protection.
This Thanksgiving, I give my deepest gratitude for the gift of my daughter and vow to help parents caught in the horrors of war to protect and save their children who are in danger right now. I invite you to join me on this mission. We plan to work with frontline health workers across three warzones to rebuild 15 hospitals and deliver critical healthcare and protection for children who desperately need it. I would love to co-create this lifesaving work with you.
Right now, we urgently need funds to save precious little lives. EVERY contribution helps, below is a guide of what we achieve with your collective support;
