The day before she left, with a team of doctors going to Gaza on a humanitarian mission, she said,“I’ll be celebrating my birthday there on September 7.”So, why is she risking her safety to be in an active war zone? To Dr Abu Alrub, this was a no-brainer.

The Hippocratic Oath

On August 2, she was on a flight from Perth to Brisbane when a passenger collapsed mid-flight. Despite her and another doctor’s efforts, he could not be saved. In a Facebook post, she said this about the incident:

“Out of respect for his privacy and his family, I won’t share details. But I will say this: it never gets easier. A life lost anywhere, in any moment, always leaves a silence. The kind of silence that humbles everyone in its presence. We were no longer just in transit; we were witnessing the end of someone’s journey. I didn’t expect this to be part of my last day in Australia, a place that has been home to me for so many years.

“But sometimes the call comes mid-air. And when it does, you answer. A life is precious, on the ground, in the sky, in every corner of this earth.”

Her words are reminiscent of this translated excerpt of the Ancient Greek Hippocratic Oath, the earliest record of medical ethics in history:

“Into whatsoever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick. And whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession, as well as outside my profession in my intercourse with men, if it be what should not be published abroad, I will never divulge, holding such things to be holy secrets.”

Today, the Oath has fallen out of common use in Australia. Yet, in its millennia-old original form, it still represents the spirit of being a doctor; even on one’s special day, their birthday, the call must be answered.

Dr Abu Alrub had this to say about the risks that come with her undertaking:

“A lot of people are against the work that I’m doing, they’re going: ‘What are you going to do? You’re going to be killed,’ or ‘What are you going to change?’ Even if I have one hand to support someone, just give them the love, saying: ‘I’m with you, and I care’.”

Her words mirror this excerpt of the Oath:

“Now if I carry out this oath, and break it not, may I gain for ever reputation among all men for my life and for my art; but if I break it and forswear myself, may the opposite befall me.”

This is who she is – a dedicated physician who sees value in all life.

This is her story, and the stories of many like her.

The price of getting in

There is a generally understood method for getting into Gaza in the first place, and ironically, the only certainty is that there is no certainty. Firstly, clearance is needed from the World Health Organization, one must be a part of a non-government organisation, and also, clearance is required from the Israel Defence Forces.

Regardless of preparedness, there is always the likelihood that you will be refused entry into Gaza at any point.

“I didn’t give up; I kept on trying. However, they keep making it harder,” Dr Abu Alrub said.

This mirrors the experience of emergency physician Dr Mohammed Mustafa, who was denied entry into Gaza for a third time.

Finances are also a major challenge one must face before entering Gaza.

“You’re only allowed $US280 [~$A420]; the IDF takes at least half of it on the way in and way out, so you’re left with around $US100 in a war zone as a doctor working there for a few weeks, which is impossible,” Dr Abu Alrub continued.

The struggle it took to get into Gaza is corroborated by Dr Mustafa and consultant anaesthesiologist Dr Saira Hussain, who have both been to Gaza twice.

“When I went in October last year, it was 8000 shekels [~$A3618]. This time, it was 1000 shekels [~$A452], a very small amount and a real reduction in the amount that you could take from months ago,” said Dr Hussain.

However, getting in is only half the toll.

The other half is emotional; an experience Dr Mustafa is familiar with.

“Just the actual psychological trauma of what you’re dealing with, when you’re seeing multiple children with 80 per cent body burns, missing limbs, no analgesia, no anaesthetics for these children, nothing to help quell their pain, it becomes very difficult,” Dr Mustafa said.

There is the ever-present risk of physical and emotional fatigue befalling doctors as they are swarmed by the sick, wounded, and dead, with barely any moment for reprieve.

Dr Hussain said: “At some point, you have a period when you’re like: ‘What the hell is going on here? What am I seeing? I’ve just looked after a six-week-old baby with an open fractured femur!’ There isn’t enough time to dwell on it because that’s the reality of the situation, and you’re already moving on to the next person you’re treating.”

Then there is the fact that they know that trauma they experienced treating children represents a small fraction of the bigger picture.

Going above and beyond

All things considered, voluntarily entering Gaza still seems like a foolhardy act. It begs the question: why?

Why give up the security and safety of home? Why go through so much bureaucracy with no certainties? Why enter a country where over 1500 health workers have been killed since October 7, 2023, almost double the number of physicians killed in the Syrian Civil War from 2011 to 2017?

For Dr Abu Alrub, it harkens back to answering the call, no matter what.

“I’m going there, God willing, no matter what,”
Dr Nada Abu Alrub.

Dr Mustafa has that connection too, as he was born to a Palestinian refugee family.

“When you grow up as a refugee, you see the world in a different way. The place that we would see kindness from is always the healthcare sector; my father’s a doctor as well. Those are the things that led me to go into medicine. Then, that led me to want to help people in similar situations to me and people in worse situations than me,” Dr Mustafa said.

For those who have had their lives uprooted, Palestine is more than a state to be recognised. It is a home away from home.

It is a belief that Australia Palestine Advocacy Network executive member Hiba Farra has. Her father was displaced during the Nakba, the forced relocation of Palestinians during the establishment of Israel in 1948, and yet, memories of Palestine remain.

“Palestine was present in every conversation we had. There are four members in our family, and there was always a fifth chair at the table for Palestine,” Mrs Farra said.

It can be easy to say they have personal allegiances. However, this goes beyond helping because they are Palestinian. They are calling for help, and doctors need to answer that call.

“I’d see staff overwhelmed with the number of patients. There were a lot of assassinations of senior medical staff. I’m a senior clinician, and I just thought, ‘I have those skills, I have the ability, and I have the support from my family. I need to go and offer my assistance’,” Dr Hussain said.

The prickly pear tale

On August 10, Mrs Farra made an appearance in Fremantle, speaking on the Gaza genocide. In her speech, she told the story of the prickly pear. Her story details the Israelis’ attempts to burn cactuses in Palestine during the Nakba, only for them to regrow from the sand.

The story represents Palestinian solidarity in the face of oppression. It is no surprise, then, that Dr Abu Alrub has the likes of her fellow doctors and Palestinians supporting her from the sidelines.

Dr Mustafa said, “Prepare for the worst and hope for the best, and remember that every moment that you spend in Gaza is a gift; use it to help as many people as possible.”

Mrs Farra said, “There’s so much love and admiration for what she’s doing. May she return healthy, and may God give her strength.”

Dr Abu Alrub, Mrs Farra and Dr Mustafa all saw their lives uprooted. Yet, their hope for a free Palestine never wavered.

At the end of her speech, Mrs Farra quotes Mahmoud Darwish, a Palestinian poet:

“If you live, live free. If you die, die standing, like trees.”