Mohammed is geneeskunde student and doet vrijwilligerswerk in verschillende ziekenhuizen in Gaza.

“My name is Mohammed, a fourth-year medical student at Al-Azhar University in Gaza. Since childhood, I have dreamed of becoming a doctor—not only because medicine is a noble profession, but because it represents a true path to serve people and ease their suffering. Growing up in Gaza, I have witnessed the impact of war, blockade, and limited access to healthcare. These challenges inspired me to take responsibility toward my community and motivated me to be among those who bring hope to others.

My choice to study medicine came from a deep belief that serving humanity is one of the greatest missions a person can undertake. Throughout my academic journey, every lecture, every patient encounter, and every practical experience has strengthened my conviction that a doctor’s role goes beyond treating illness—it is also about offering comfort, compassion, and emotional support.

During the recent war on Gaza, I volunteered in several hospitals, where I experienced unforgettable and challenging moments. I saw firsthand how a doctor’s presence can bring calm amid fear, and how a few kind words or a sincere smile can make a difference in someone’s recovery. That experience deepened my commitment to this path and strengthened my resolve to continue pursuing medicine despite all difficulties.” 

Dr. Ahmed

Dr. Besan is een jonge apotheker die tijdens bombardementen haar huis en apotheek verloor. Ze werkte in de afgelopen twee jaar op vrijwillige basis in verschillende medische punten verspreid over Gaza.

“I chose to study pharmacy because I witnessed firsthand how a pharmacist can save a life.”

It all began when my father fell ill, and his condition kept deteriorating despite following his treatment plan. No one could explain why until a pharmacist noticed a dangerous interaction between the medications he was taking. That drug combination could have easily taken his life, but the pharmacist intervened, contacted the doctor, and adjusted the treatment to a safer alternative. My father began to recover, and his health gradually returned.

From that moment, I realized that pharmacy is not just a science it’s a profound responsibility. The pharmacist is the silent guardian who protects patients from harm. That experience left a deep mark on me, and my passion for pharmacy grew stronger day by day.

Even as a child, my favorite game was gathering the kids in my family and pretending to run a pharmacy. I would play the role of the pharmacist, crafting medications out of colored paper, giving them names, and explaining how to use them making sure they didn’t “interact,” just like the real pharmacist did with my father. They were innocent moments, but filled with imagination and love for the field.

Today, as a graduate and practicing pharmacist, I carry that passion with pride. Every consultation I offer, every medication I explain, every patient I reassure reminds me why I chose this path. Pharmacy gave me the chance to be part of someone’s healing, to be a voice of awareness, and a hand that offers safety.

That’s why I chose pharmacy. Because it saved my father, and awakened in me a passion that never fades a mission I live with love and devotion.

Dr. Ahmad heeft onlangs zijn studie farmacie afgerond. Hij werkt vanaf het begin van de genocide als vrijwilliger in een apotheken en is afgaelopen september gestart  in een ziekenhuis starten.

“I wanted to study pharmacy because I grew up with a question that never left me: “Why wasn’t there a medicine to save my grandfather?” I was very young when he passed away after a severe illness that doctors could not cure.

Each time I asked my mother why he couldn’t just take a medicine to get better, she would look at me with tearful eyes and whisper, “There is no medicine for his illness, my dear.” Those words shaped my entire life.

As a child, I could not understand how such a thing was possible. How could there be no medicine? Did it run out from the pharmacy? Over time, that innocent confusion turned into a purpose, a burning desire to become someone who creates answers rather than accepts limits.

For me, pharmacy is not just a profession; it is the art of transforming science into compassion. It is about bridging the gap between human suffering and scientific discovery. Each medicine represents years of research, sleepless nights, and the hope of millions. Behind every prescription, there is a story, a person waiting to feel better, a family praying for healing.

When I think of my patients, I see my grandfather and all those who are still waiting for a cure that hasn’t been discovered yet. That is why I chose this path: to stand on the side of healing, to bring comfort and relief, and perhaps one day, to be part of creating the medicine yet to be made.

Because to me, being a pharmacist means never giving up on hope even when the world says, “There is no medicine”.

Mohammed staat op het punt zijn studie medicijnen af te ronden. Naast zijn studie doet hij  studie en vrijwilligerswerk in het ziekenhuis. 

“Since childhood, my dream has been tied to medicine. It was never just a passing choice, but rather an extension of my father’s dream one he could not achieve because of the difficult circumstances that stood in his way.

He instilled in us, his children, a deep love for knowledge and perseverance in learning. We continued the path he once started, and the support he gave us filled me with strength and confidence, teaching me that success never comes without effort and determination.

To this day, my father sacrifices everything so that I can pursue my studies, and this inspires me to remain committed and diligent.

Over the years, I came to realize that medicine is the path where science meets humanity, where effort turns into hope, and where serving others shapes one’s true self.

I grew up in a family that values education and humanitarian work. My brother Khaled became a nurse, and my brother Ismail became a doctor.

Our home has even become a medical point of reference for people in our neighborhood, and I always wanted to be part of this noble work.

Today, I am in my fifth year of medical school, just one year away from becoming a doctor. For me, medicine is not simply a field of study or a career; it is a message and a great responsibility toward others.
Every patient carries a story and a pain, and I want to be the person who eases that pain and gives them hope and reassurance. The moments I treasure most are when I see patients recovering and praying for me with gratitude reminding me that no effort is ever wasted.

I was born in a city exhausted by war, where I witnessed the daily suffering of people around me. This reality fueled my determination to continue my studies and volunteer in hospital departments, even in the midst of brutal conflict, so I could stand beside people in their most difficult moments. My journey in medicine has not been easy, but it has taught me that patience and perseverance are the true path to fulfilling dreams.

Today, I stand on the threshold of achieving mine carrying in my heart my father’s determination, my family’s support, and my sincere desire to serve others.”

Dr. Ahmed is een gepassioneerde apotheker die in 2024 is afgestudeerd. Hij zet zich als vrijwilliger in voor het Internationale Medische Korps, waar hij zich vooral richt op kinderbescherming en (gezonde) voeding.

“I wanted to study pharmacy because I grew up in a home filled with the spirit of medicine and compassion. My late father worked as a nurse for 37 years at Al-Shifa and Al-Aqsa Hospitals. Two of my brothers became doctors, my eldest sister is a laboratory specialist, and my other brother is a radiology and imaging specialist. Surrounded by this medical atmosphere, I felt it was my duty—and my calling—to complete the circle by choosing pharmacy, a field that beautifully combines biology, chemistry, medicine, and the science of drugs in all their intricate details. I knew it would be challenging, but the joy of learning and helping others always outweighed the difficulty.

For me, being a pharmacist means far more than dispensing medications. It’s about educating patients, giving clear instructions, and ensuring they understand how to use their treatment safely. It’s also about innovation—understanding the process of drug production and dreaming of rebuilding what we once had. In Gaza, we had two pharmaceutical factories that were destroyed during the brutal war, yet we continue to dream of restoring that brilliance, of challenging every hardship with resilience and hope.

The medical sciences are among the noblest fields, not only for their knowledge but for their ethics. It is our duty to build a relationship of love and trust with every patient—to speak their language, understand their pain, and reassure them even in the darkest moments. Every patient carries a story of pain and hope, and through them, we learn to bear our own burdens with grace.

We have pledged to remain forever at the service of the sick and the vulnerable—to save a life, or at least to be a reason it continues.”

“And whoever saves one life—it is as if he has saved all of humanity.”

It troubles my soul to see the ailing,
Who complain of sorrow, pain, and despair.
So I walked the path to turn herbs into healing,
And sought from the depths of seas what lies hidden there.
From the venom of serpents we have taken wisdom—
From every illness, we craft a cure beyond compare

Ahmed Younis Shaheen | Pharmacist in the making

Dr. Ahmed Younes

Arts in opleiding die als vrijwilliger werkt in een veldhospitaal. Ook is Bara’a actief  in een speciale ‘medische tent voor vrouwen’ waar onder meer aandacht wordt gegeven aan reproductieve rechten, borstvoeding en andere kwetsbare en intieme zaken.

“

I chose medicine because, as a child, I watched my father return home exhausted yet smiling after helping a neighbor ease a patient’s pain. In those quiet moments I realized that life is not measured by money or appearances, but by how much compassion and hope we give to others. From then on, I believed that a doctor is the final guardian of human dignity and I decided to be one of those guardians.

In Gaza, people’s pain merges with our everyday life: the cries of children during airstrikes, mothers’ eyes searching for a glimpse of safety, the wounded arriving covered in dust and blood. Each time I stand before a bleeding patient, I feel that I’m not only treating an injury, but healing an entire story of fear and loss. Sometimes all we can offer is a bandage and a smile, but that is enough to plant the meaning of endurance in a patient’s heart.

Being a doctor here means giving hope even when you yourself are desperate for comfort. I’ve seen my colleagues continue working under bombardment, teaching me day by day that mercy is stronger than terror and that knowledge without humanity is nothing. Every child who laughs once the pain subsides, every elder who lifts a hand in prayer when his breath returns, reaffirms to me that this profession is not just a choice but a mission.

My love for patients flows from the belief that their lives are a sacred trust, and every moment I help someone reclaim their life is a small victory over the surrounding devastation. Medicine, to me, is not just treatment or diagnosis; it is an act of resistance, a living testimony that life is worth fighting for.

This is why I am a doctor: to prove that hope can be born even under rubble, and that our shared humanity can withstand the fiercest storms.”

Onlangs is Dr. Hassan afgestudeerd, terwijl hij als vrijwilliger actief is in een veldhospitaal temidden van een tentenkamp voor ontheemden in Centraal-Gaza.

“I graduated from high school almost six years ago, and those moments were miraculous alive with joy, laughter, and boundless hope. After that radiant time, I sat alone with the questions that would shape my life: what I yearn to become, how I will influence those around me, and what I will change in my community.

The first answer that brightened my path was unmistakable: I would become a doctor. Choosing that noble, humane calling would make me the first doctor in my family, a clarity that answered the question of impact I longed to wield to be a guide, a reference, and a steadfast ally for my family whenever they needed me.

That conviction has lingered with me across six years, and I cannot forget how many relatives sought my counsel because I am the family’s sole physician. God be praised, I have stood as their pillar through those hardships.

Yet another, deeper imprint on my mind is the way wars in my country and dwelling place shaped my purpose. The images of medical teams marching through war zones stirred in me a profound reverence for this work and an immense, indescribable capacity to help my people amid ruin, especially given the acute shortage of medical staff. This reality hammered home the necessity of this path and resonated as waves of memory that refused to fade.

When I joined as a volunteer doctor on the seventh day of the last conflict, I revisited that day and the reasons I chose this path, despite the overwhelming pain and sorrow. The loss of thirty members of my family and uncles on day five haunted me, yet a fierce pride rose within me and a voice quiet but insistent told me I had done it, that I had become what I aspired to be. My body carried the weight of hours spent tending the injured, and a small, steadfast voice whispered that I had succeeded: I was becoming a beacon of relief and healing for my family first, and then for my people. I cannot deny the happiness I felt, the pride that walked hand in hand with solidarity toward everyone I served.

Those days and nights were tempered by the encouragement and support of those around me, pushing me to persist in giving.At the end of my university journey, I reminded myself of the choice I made and of the father and family who encouraged and supported me, grateful beyond measure. I want to thank you all for your unwavering support.

Now I am suffused with pride and joy that I chose to become a doctor, and I stand here living the dream I had envisioned.Finally, I am grateful to my brother Mounir, my sister Tjitske and leke, and all who helped us become doctors in the Gaza Strip. Without that support and this remarkable initiative, I would not have finished my studies or continued to realize all I have stated, nor could I have contributed to improving our situation or enabling us. I send you all my love and gratitude, dear ones. I wish I could thank each of you personally for everything, and may you all remain safe, my beloved friends.”

Dr. Mariam werkt als onbetaalde tandarts in één van de laatste tandartsklinieken van Gaza. Daarnaast werkt ze als vrijwilliger in een veldhospitaal met verschillende andere artsen die door ons initiatief worden ondersteund. 

“I wanted to become a dentist because I saw in the smile a message of life. Since childhood, I noticed how a simple smile could change an entire day, and how dental pain could steal away a person’s ability to enjoy food, sleep, or even moments of joy. For me, restoring a smile was never just a medical act it was an act of humanity that touches the soul before the body.

As the years passed, I discovered that this profession carries a deeper meaning. To be a dentist in Gaza does not only mean drilling, filling, or treating cavities. It means treating people who are exhausted by war, and witnessing entire life stories behind every broken tooth or wounded mouth. Each time I sit in front of a patient, I feel that I am not only fixing teeth, but restoring dignity and bringing back a piece of their peace of mind.

What drives me is seeing hope shine again with every smile that regains its light. For me, dentistry is not just a university degree or a means to make a living; it is an ethical commitment and a human mission. I believe that a doctor does not only restore physical functions, but also a person’s confidence and faith in life.

That is why I chose dentistry because it gives me the chance to be the reason someone smiles again, despite all the pain around them. And in doing so, I feel that I am helping to create hope in the midst of darkness.”

Khader is een arts in opleiding die zijn coschappen loopt in een van de laatste semi-functionerende ziekenhuizen in Gaza.

“One day, I will become a doctor to make sure no child ever feels the way I did! “

When I was just 10 years old, I became severely ill with hepatitis A. I remember being incredibly weak, barely able to stand. My family rushed me to Al-Aqsa Hospital, hoping for care and relief, but what we found was a system stretched beyond its limits.

The hospital was overwhelmed. There were too few doctors, not enough equipment, and barely any beds. I still remember lying on the cold, hard floor of the emergency department because no beds were available. The doctors were exhausted, running between patients, doing all they could, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t receive proper care, and in that moment of fear and neglect, something inside me changed.

I made a silent promise to myself: “one day, I will become a doctor, not for status or recognition, but to make sure no child ever feels the way I did”.

Years passed, and that promise only grew stronger. I studied with a purpose, driven by that memory, by that night on the emergency floor. And by the grace of God, that dream became reality.

Today, I am a doctor, and not just anywhere, but volunteering in that very same hospital. Every time I walk through its corridors, I remember the child I was. And every patient I see, especially the quiet ones waiting in corners, reminds me of why I started this journey.
I give them my full attention, because I know what it feels like to be forgotten. My mission is not just to treat illness, but to restore dignity and compassion to every patient, especially those who suffer in silence
This isn’t just a profession for me. It’s a personal calling, born from pain, fulfilled with purpose.”

Dr. Khader

“It has always been the dream of every Palestinian father to have a son named Dr. Ali—that child who was born into a poor family before the Nakba, whose parents sacrificed everything they owned just to make him the village doctor.

The character of Dr. Ali in “The Palestinian Exodus” (Al-Taghreba Al-Filastiniyya)—the series that depicts the tragedy of the Nakba and was watched by nearly every Palestinian in the twenty-first century—became the very soul of the story. He was the hero, the doctor, and above all, the embodiment of humanity.

I grew up inspired by that same path. I wanted to be that kind of person—the one who helps everyone, not only through medicine but by easing the burdens of life for many others.

When I entered high school, I printed a small paper with the words “Dr. Ismail Qwaider” written on it. I loved medicine long before I practiced it. My dream was to become a surgeon. I often drifted into daydreams—imagining myself saving someone injured in a car crash, or wounded by gunfire or shrapnel; performing CPR on a cardiac arrest patient; inserting a chest tube in a severe thoracic injury; or placing an endotracheal tube to restore a patient’s breath.

It was a dream, an ambition, a passion—and a love.

I dedicated immense effort to my studies to earn this specialty, to become the “Ali” of my family, the “Ali” among my people.

Today, I am a doctor despite all the hardships I faced during my education. I challenged the impossible until I forced it to become possible.

Everything I once imagined—those medical procedures and more—I now perform skillfully in the emergency department.

The dream became reality, despite the pain. I am proud of myself, and my family is proud of me. I have become the person I always wanted to be.

And so, Ali still lives on. Though the episodes of the series have long ended, we Palestinians have continued his story. Now, instead of one doctor, there are thousands—each with the same purpose: to ease the suffering of our people and to serve our cause in any way we can.”