Gaza City – Before October 2023, Ezz ad-Din Lulu, or simply “Ezz,” liked to draw people he saw on the streets.
With his charcoal pencil and sketch pad, Ezz – a fifth-year medical student at the Islamic University in Gaza City – walked around and drew impromptu portraits of people going about their daily activities.
“I focused on those who I felt needed a smile to lighten their burdens,” Ezz, 22, shared via WhatsApp.
His subjects reciprocated Ezz's joy, as shown in their videos on social media.
In one of them, an old woman selling toys on the street exclaimed with a big smile: “Oh, Habibi! May God protect you and grant you everything you wish for.”
Displacement
One day after Israel's war on Gaza began, on October 8, the building where Ezz and his family lived in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood was bombed.
Miraculously, Ezz, his parents, his older brother and his brother's young family survived the attack.
“First, Israeli warplanes bombed the roof and we ran away,” Ezz recalled. “A few hours later, they bombed again and reduced the planes’ capacity.” [the building] into rubble.
“The place where I lived for 22 years… the happiest moments of my life were gone in the blink of an eye,” Ezz sighed. “I couldn’t take anything with me except my phone and some documents.”
The family sought refuge in their grandparents' home in Remal, a now-devastated neighborhood that was the cultural and economic center of Gaza, with vibrant streets, markets, cafes, restaurants and a strong sense of community.
Amid the loss and destruction, Ezz felt driven to volunteer at al-Shifa Hospital, despite knowing it meant he could be “surrounded or attacked at any moment, especially since [Israel] …he said Al Shifa was a target.” His family supported him despite their own fears.
On October 10, Ezz was placed on the emergency list as a physician, a challenging transition overnight.
“It was when people needed me the most, but I didn’t realize how difficult it would be,” Ezz said. “But pride overwhelmed me, knowing I could help.
“Either we didn't have supplies or we didn't have enough. In some cases… even if we had the capabilities, there was no treatment for [someone] because of the hopelessness of their cases,” he said.
Loss
By November, tanks had surrounded al-Shifa, ordering everyone to leave under bombardment and arbitrary attacks.
“There were about 7,000 people inside: patients, doctors, nurses and displaced people. Many doctors left.
“Some patients couldn’t leave, so some doctors and I decided to stay,” said Ezz, who worked around the clock.
On November 10, Israeli tanks sealed off the hospital and shelled it so heavily that communications networks stopped working and Ezz lost contact with his family.
The siege of Al Shifa lasted ten days, which Ezz “will never forget.” The electricity was cut off, the oxygen supply ran out and fuel was almost completely depleted.
“Apartments, rooms, hallways… everything went dark,” he said.
“I saw eight patients dying on oxygen machines, without being able to help them,” Ezz said sadly.
“We lived on dates and water, fasting all day and breaking the fast with a small glass of water and a date. It was not Ramadan, we were fasting to ask God to ease our distress and to make the limited supply of water and dates last as long as possible,” Ezz said.
Amid fear, exhaustion and hunger, Ezz received a phone call on November 13 at 9 pm from Dr. Fadel Naeem, director of al-Ahli Baptist Hospital.
“May God reward you handsomely for your loss,” Naeem said. “Your family was attacked… they are under the rubble.”
Indescribable
“I could never describe how I felt,” Ezz said.
An Israeli strike killed Ezz's father, Samir, his 32-year-old brother, Huzaifa, his two-month pregnant wife, Rana, and his five-year-old daughter, Reem. Two of his uncles and their families and his grandmother were also killed.
When Naeem said, “Your mother is still alive,” Ezz felt life return to him.
“I left the phone,” he said, “and went to perform ablution and prayed to God, thanking Him for at least saving my mother.
“The pain of not being able to say goodbye to my family, especially my father, my best friend and biggest supporter, hurt me,” Ezz said.
When the Israeli army forced everyone in al-Shifa to leave, Ezz desperately searched for his mother, who had no phone.
“After frantic calls, I found her at Baptist Hospital,” Ezz said, recalling her relief at seeing her mother.
“At first I didn’t recognise her, she had been trapped under the rubble for about 45 minutes. We hugged each other tightly with tears in our eyes, a hug of shared pain and comfort,” she said.
Ezz stayed by her mother's side for two months, supporting her and recovering from her trauma.
In January, Al-Shifa was still not operational, so Ezz joined Al-Ahli, assisting in surgeries and collaborating with doctors.
Resilience
Ezz wants to make his father's dream come true.
“My father had always dreamed of me graduating from medical school, putting on my gown and taking the oath of office,” Ezz recalled.
In honor of that dream, Ezz created the Samir Foundation in June to provide training, workshops and financial support to medical students in northern Gaza. Contributions from foreign individuals and organizations, as well as crowdfunding, helped make it a reality.
“Just as my father wanted to see me graduate, I want to help other students achieve their dreams and honor their families,” Ezz said.
Doctors who provided training for the foundation included Naeem from al-Ahli Hospital and Drs Hani Al-Qadi and Osama Hamed from a Jordanian medical delegation.
“Despite the loss Ezz had to face, she stood firm,” Tasnim, a 21-year-old beneficiary of the foundation, shared via WhatsApp.
Ezz's university has been devastated by Israeli bombs, meaning she will not be able to graduate next year, but she has already started working and has gained a lot of experience for her age.
“It is usually difficult for new graduates to become first assistants, but I was given this position,” said Ezz, proud and sad.
“I wish my dad was here to see how far I’ve come.”
