trauma

Deir el-Balah, Gaza – For years, Nuha Abu Lebda dreamed of becoming a mother. But Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza has turned that dream into loss, time and time again.

As she was forcibly displaced several times across the Gaza Strip since the war began in October 2023, Abu Lebda lost three pregnancies. She says the losses came after months of air strikes, hunger, fear and living without proper medical care.

“I miscarried because of the air strikes, the displacement, the difficult conditions, the lack of clean water and malnutrition,” she tells Al Jazeera.

After each miscarriage, she hoped she could still become a mother.

“When I lost my baby, I was exhausted. I woke up hoping my baby was still inside me. But the dream I carried for 10 years was gone.”

Abu Lebda sold her gold and almost everything she owned to pay for injections of heparin, a drug prescribed to some women to prevent blood clotting during pregnancy. She hoped the treatment would help her bring her pregnancies to term, but she lost the babies despite it.

“I cried so much because I lost the baby I dreamed of every single day,” she laments.

Even after the fighting slowed, her dream remained the same. “I dream of bringing a baby into this world. I want to be a mother and have children. Every time I see my husband playing with children, I start crying.”

Medical officials in Gaza say they are treating a surge in miscarriages, which they link directly to Israel’s genocidal war and blockade. The trend has worsened as Gaza’s health system has collapsed under bombardments and Israeli ground operations with malnutrition and psychological strain cited as key drivers.

Dr Yasser Saadeddine, the maternity director at al-Awda Hospital in Deir el-Balah in central Gaza, told Al Jazeera roughly 70 percent of pregnancy losses his team treats are linked to the war and blockade.

‘I lost my daughter during childbirth’

Abu Lebda is one of many women in Gaza who say they have lost pregnancies during the war. They describe miscarriages, premature births and losing newborns while trying to survive bombardments, displacement, hunger and the collapsing healthcare system.

Mai Zaqout tells Al Jazeera she lost her daughter because she could not access the medical care she needed.

“I lost my daughter during childbirth. She had already died inside my womb for a month, but I could not deliver her because the medical resources and support I needed were not available,” she says.

Her loss came shortly after another tragedy. “All of this happened within a very short time after my husband was killed.”

For Sara al-Awad, she had a scare when she was eight months pregnant. She says powerful explosions in Tal al-Hawa, a neighbourhood in Gaza City, caused extreme fear and stress, leading to severe bleeding.

“Because of the fear, anxiety and the power of the explosions, I started bleeding. My placenta had separated.”

Al-Awad says no ambulance could reach her, and she waited for hours before her brother took her to al-Quds Hospital in a wheelchair. “The doctors decided I needed an emergency C-section immediately.”

Her baby, Muhammad, was born weighing only 1.1kg (2.4lb) and was placed in an incubator. But as fighting continued around the hospital, Sara and her family were separated from him.

“My brother had to leave for the south while Muhammad stayed alone in the incubator. We could only check on him through messages from the medical staff,” she says.

After more than a month, al-Awad was finally reunited with her baby. “Thank God, the ceasefire came. … Muhammad left the incubator after 37 days.”

‘I witnessed horrific situations’

Across Gaza, other women have similar stories.

For Iman Badah, the loss was of the child she had waited years for.

“I am a mother who lost my only son. I waited six years to have him. I gave birth prematurely while I was being displaced,” she tells Al Jazeera.

Nuha Salameh was carrying twins during the war. “Fear and trauma caused me to lose them.”

She says doctors told her that, before the war, her babies may have survived.

“The doctor told me that if the situation had been normal, we would have placed them in the incubator, and they would have lived.”

Nidaa Seyam says she experienced her second miscarriage during the war. “I lost a baby girl, and this is the second time I have miscarried.”

She says doctors told her the war conditions affected her pregnancy. “They told me it was because of the psychological stress we are living through and malnutrition.”

She also describes surviving intense bombardment.

“I witnessed horrific situations where I was trapped under air strikes. I inhaled a lot of toxic fumes.”

‘War, blockade, malnutrition, displacement’

Palestinian doctors say these stories are becoming more common.

They report more miscarriages and pregnancy complications linked to hunger, stress, displacement and the lack of medical care.

At al-Awda Hospital, doctors say they have seen a major increase in pregnancy losses.

“During the war, there was a significant increase in miscarriage cases we received,” Saadeddine says.

He says the causes include “the war and the blockade, including malnutrition, poor hygiene, environmental contamination and continuous displacement”.

Doctors say miscarriages are only one part of the crisis. They are also seeing more babies dying in the womb, more premature deliveries and more dangerous pregnancy complications.

Many women lost their homes, medical records and access to regular check-ups during repeated displacements. Hospitals are also struggling with shortages of medicines, equipment and medical staff.

For many mothers, the war has left wounds that continue to hurt even after most of the fighting has stopped. For women in Gaza, the war has not ended with October’s “ceasefire”. It continues with every pregnancy lost, and every dream of motherhood left unfulfilled.

Two siblings went on the BBC show in the hope of recovering never before seen home movies

A brother and sister battled tears as they said an emotional fix on The Repair Shop had given them “peace” after the family experienced a trauma.

Siblings Zaff and Nasari went on the BBC show with a broken projector that had been used to film home movies they’d never been able to see.

Their dad had recorded footage of them as children with their relatives during their childhood in Uganda, but after they were forced to flee the country in the 1970s under Idi Amin’s rule, it was packed up and not touched.

Both of their parents had since died, and Zaff and Nasari told experts Dominic Chinea and Mark Stuckey that they hoped fixing the projector would mean they would get to see them “walking around” again.

Discussing their childhood, Zaff said: “It was, yeah, very, very fun times, but the trauma that came after, with leaving Africa. Dictatorship. Idi Amin. We had 90 days to leave the country, and we weren’t allowed to take anything with us.”

The show explained that after staging a coup in 1971, military dictator Amin seized control of Uganda in East Africa. Accusing the country’s Asians of exploiting the economy, he ordered the expulsion of their entire population, forcing over 70,000 people to flee.

The family ended up leaving and starting “from scratch”, building a new life in the UK.

The siblings’ mum died at 45 and their dad died soon afterwards aged 50. The projector was “locked away” for 40 or 50 years, with the pair trying to fix it a few times but having no luck.

When they left the barn, Mark set about restoring the precious heirloom and was thrilled to get it working. Recovered footage showed Zaff and Nasari playing in Uganda as children, while their grandfather were also seen.

Both looked tearful as they viewed the films, with Zaff saying it was “astonishing” and Nasari saying: “I just feel my dad touching it. I feel like he’s here and he’s putting it on.”

“It brought me peace, seeing my mum and dad and how we were, and my grandfather, how much time we spent together,” she said, with tears in her eyes. “It’s my dad. Everything about it is my dad.”

She went on: “After them passing away, it’s been that long, you forget who they were and how they looked, and the feeling came back again. It made me feel at peace.”

The Repair Shop airs on BBC One.

Four-year-old Malika was seriously wounded in an Israeli attack that killed her mother while she shielded her from falling debris. Now, with support from her family and the Ghassan Abu Sitta Children’s Fund, she is recovering from her injuries. Her story reflects the lasting impact of war on children in Lebanon.

Earth Wind & Fire’s “September,” with its nonsensical phrase “ba-dee-ya,” has been streamed more than 2.3 billion times on Spotify, more than the band’s next five songs combined (including “Let’s Groove,” “Boogie Wonderland” and “Shining Star”).

In his visually and sonically vibrant film “Earth, Wind & Fire (To Be Celestial vs. That’s the Weight of the World),” drummer, DJ and director Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson (“Summer of Soul”) shows how the funky but aspirational band was much more than its biggest hit musically.

But he also explores, in depth, the complexities of the band’s central figure, Maurice White. A self-affirming visionary who wanted to bring hope to people, White mixed journaling with talk of spaceships and metaphysics. However, he was also traumatized by a childhood in which his mother moved to Chicago for more opportunities, leaving White in Memphis, where he was once brutally beaten by white policemen. Those scars created a man who was a distant father and equally remote with his band members at the peak, mistreating them with casual disdain until everything fell apart.

Questlove recently spoke by video call about the film, now streaming on HBO Max, which features interviews with family, surviving band members, childhood friend Booker T. Jones and a couple of fans named Barack and Michelle Obama. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

What drew you to this story?

In 2020, I was DJing on the internet, live streaming and I was DJing to calm people down from thinking they’re going to die in the apocalypse. One day I did an Earth, Wind & Fire set and when I got to the fourth hour, I thought, “Yo, is this one of the most relentlessly positive groups of all time?”

I started researching the lyrics and realized this band tricked us into positivity, like getting us to eat our vegetables. I started wondering how a band like that got past the velvet rope and realized that none of it was by accident, it was all by design. Their music was so good and you start singing the lyrics and there’s an osmosis effect of positivity that gets you.

When I started this in 2023, I had a spooky feeling that the turmoil of 2020 was going to visit us again, so I thought people would want something to watch that will help them plant seeds of what to do.

Maurice White, the band’s central figure.

(Henry Diltz / HBO)

You save “September” to the end. Was it so people would see the band was more than their biggest hit or to send audiences off humming and happy?

It’s an unlikely legacy song. They have so many meaningful songs like “Shining Star,” while “September” is a leftover that was a filler song from a greatest hits album that became a career-defining song.

Initially, I was coming out the gate with “September,” just, “Let’s get this out the way.”

It took a while. Early on the Obamas weren’t part of the project. I interviewed them the morning after the 2024 elections; they were so professional and so in the moment and also helped us process the day.

We’d never gotten to see them sit next to each other and be playful and dance. And I didn’t say, “OK, let’s see how you move, dance for 12 seconds,” I was just playing something and they started dancing and the camera happened to be running.

But they put the song in context. In 2009, they said, “What’s the statement we want to make to America to show this is a new era at the White House?” And Earth, Wind & Fire was chosen to be one of the bands at the inauguration and it was that song. So my producer said, “Now we can treat ‘September’ like an encore.” We used that story to show how that song grew on its own organically.

White is a complicated guy. Was it challenging to balance everything in your narrative?

Oftentimes Black artists are seen as caricatures or one-dimensional. It’s easy to do the gotcha of “You’re so positive and metaphysical, what about this or that?” My goal is always to find a human element that you see yourself in. In Maurice’s case with his career, he did drink the Kool-Aid. But his personal life stemmed from not ever forgiving his mother for leaving him behind when he was little. When we hold anger and other emotions in, when we refuse to talk to our partners or friends — and you want people to read your minds — that’s when it becomes a problem. But I wanted to show that in a way where I don’t spell it all out. Hopefully people will make the connection of the importance of dreaming and planning and affirmations but also the importance of letting things go, like forgiving people.