November
27, 2011
When
rebel fighters returned from the front line to Nalut in Libya’s Nafusa Mountains
last month, Nurden Abosowa, 12, discovered new toys. Parked outside his uncle’s
house was a pick-up truck with a machine gun bolted to the back – one of
thousands of weapons that littered the country.
Nurden
and two friends climbed up on to the truck, imagining they were rebel fighters
shooting at Gaddafi’s soldiers. Then they hit the jackpot. Inside was a pile of
unused 14mm anti-aircraft bullets. Excited, they examined their find. Nurden
decided to get the gunpowder out of his bullet. Unable to prise it open with
his hands, he began to strike it against a rock. A loud explosion brought
adults in the surrounding houses rushing out.
.
.
In
agony and bleeding heavily from his abdomen, where a section of stomach and
intestines had been blown away, and from his lacerated hand, where pieces of
hot metal were now lodged, he was rushed to the remote town’s hospital, a place
that until recently would have been ill-prepared to cope with such a case.
Before
the uprising that led to Gaddafi’s demise, he would have faced a
life-threatening two-hour drive across the border into Tunisia, but Nalut
hospital has changed dramatically. Merlin, the British medical emergency relief
charity ~ which The Independent on Sunday is supporting for this year’s
Christmas appeal ~ has been bringing in new staff and training existing
personnel since April.
While
the conflict is over, the flow of casualties has continued. Today Nurden looks
well. His hand and stomach are bruised and scarred but, a month after his
accident, he can move his hand, is walking nimbly and is wearing football shoes
~ a sign that he has begun to play again.
He
grins sheepishly as he recalls the accident. “I didn’t know anything was going
to happen,” he admits. “We thought the bullets were safe.”
He
has come to Nalut hospital to see Joanna Woodrow, the physiotherapist whose
help over the last month has ensured his hand is moving again, with no lasting
nerve damage. The 40-year-old from Yeovil, Somerset, was brought over from the
UK by Merlin to help with the immediate crisis and to train nurses and doctors
how to use physiotherapy.
“The
war is over, but now we’re facing a new tragedy,” Ms Woodrow said. “We fear
we’re going to see lots of kids, because there are so many weapons around and
they are curious.”
At
the height of the fighting, Nalut became a ghost town: most of the population
fled across the border to Tunisia. On the roads in and out of Nalut the
detritus of war is everywhere. Abandoned tanks lie by the roadside along with
arsenals of discarded weapons. In built-up areas, spent bullet cases are as
common as cigarette butts littering the ground.
The
deadliest armaments left behind are the unseen mines scattered about the
landscape. The full extent of the lethal debris is as yet unmapped in Nafusa
region so nobody knows when they might inadvertently take their last step.
Mohammed
Essa was in his fourth year of medical training in Libya when the war broke
out. At first he worked with the rebels, coordinating information. He now he
works as a logistician for Merlin. He said the risks were increasing as people
slowly returned to their farms in the valley.
“The places where people were fighting, that’s where people have their farms, so there are lots of unexploded rockets, shells and mines there. The children go to the farms to play because there’s space, and that’s when it happens.”
There
are no national figures for the number of children injured since the conflict
ended last month, but in Nalut, a small mountain town, home to just 25,000, one
has died and at least five children have sustained serious injuries. In the
nearby towns of Zintan and Zintan East, there have been 12 such accidents,
injuring 33 people – mostly children – and killing two.
Last
month, Sarag Adin, 51, and his wife Naema Masaud, 43, had just returned home
with their six children to Takut village after sheltering from the fighting in
Tunisia. Their house had been occupied by Gaddafi forces and was riddled with
bullets, but they finally felt safe. Then four weeks ago, while Naema was
resting inside the house, she heard an enormous explosion. When she went
outside she found her youngest son, Zakaria, 11, lying motionless in their
garden.
“He
was just frozen and there was blood everywhere,” she recalls, blinking back
tears. “His hand was blown off, and his left eye and groin were all hit. We had
never seen any weapons, but there must have been a land mine we didn’t see. Our
eldest son fought with the rebels, and we were afraid for him, but we never
expected this: the unexpected son died.”
They
took Zakaria to Nalut hospital but, with no specialist doctors, all the staff
could do was stabilise him and send him by ambulance to Tunisia. By the time he
arrived, he had been bleeding from a femoral artery for hours. The next day he
died.
Libya
is not a poor country, but under Gaddafi the health system ~ particularly in
smaller towns ~ had been neglected. Outwardly, the hospitals look good, but
inside they are under-staffed by often poorly trained medical workers from
overseas. Many doctors and nurses come from countries such as North Korea,
whose dictators struck deals with Gaddafi that included the transfer of medical
staff.
Dr
Mohammed Gnam, the medical director of the Nalut region, says that outside big
cities such as Tripoli and Benghazi, Libyan doctors are scarce ~ and specialist
doctors of any nationality even more so. “Doctors are concentrated in big
cities because their opinion is that they can’t get experience outside them.
People do not trust the whole medical system.
“Most
who can will go to Tunisia or Egypt rather than being treated here. There’s a
shortage of medical equipment, a shortage of specialists and a bad administrative
system which means it was going downhill long before the war. Corruption was
also a problem; the money wasn’t reaching hospitals.”
Initially,
Merlin responded to the crisis overflowing into Tunisia. As the Libyan people’s
needs changed, so did Merlin’s response. Since September, it has been
supporting health facilities across the Nafusa region, improving paramedic and
ambulance services, providing health workers and using mobile health teams
throughout the region. It has hired doctors, nurses and midwives from
neighbouring Tunisia to reopen 16 clinics, and is training them in medical
education techniques to pass on their expertise.
The
sobering reality is that until the thousands of weapons and unexploded devices
littering the country are safely removed, their emergency help will still be
required.
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