It has been exactly three weeks since Albina Abu Safiya last heard from her husband. On Dec. 27, Israeli forces arrested Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya, director of Kamal Adwan Hospital in the city of Beit Lahiya, in a raid that forced the last functioning health facility in northern Gaza to shut completely. After storming the hospital, soldiers reportedly rounded up the medical staff outside, forced them to remove their clothes, and set fire to the building.

Shortly after the raid, Israeli forces released video footage that showed Abu Safiya entering a military vehicle upon soldiers’ orders, but for days afterward his whereabouts remained unknown. Despite the evidence of his arrest, the Israeli army insisted almost a week later that it still “had no indication of [Abu Safiya’s] arrest or detention” — only to confirm the following day that the hospital director had indeed been arrested “on suspicion of involvement in terrorist activities,” a claim for which it provided no evidence.

Abu Safiya was initially held at Sde Teiman — the military base notorious for its severe abuse of Palestinian detainees — according to the testimonies of two Palestinian prisoners recently released from the detention center. On Jan. 9, Abu Safiya was transferred from Sde Teiman to Ofer Prison near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank, where he remains until now. He is prohibited from meeting with his lawyer, Nasser Ouda, until Jan. 22, and his detention has been extended until Feb. 13.

Human rights and international aid groups, including the World Health Organization, Amnesty International, and Medical Aid for Palestinians, have condemned Israel’s raid on the hospital and called for Abu Safiya’s release. 

Abu Safiya emerged as an icon of Palestinian resilience in the face of Israel’s genocidal onslaught over the past year, consistently calling attention to Israel’s intentional targeting of hospitals and pleading with the international community to intervene. Throughout the Israeli army’s latest campaign in northern Gaza since early October 2024, he refused to evacuate Kamal Adwan Hospital and abandon his patients as Israeli forces bombed and subsequently stormed the facility. 

Even before his arrest last month, Abu Safiya faced no shortage of personal tragedies. On Oct. 25, after being released from a brief detention along with several of his colleagues, he learned that an Israeli drone had killed his 15-year old son, Ibrahim. About a month later, Abu Safiya himself was severely injured when an Israeli quadcopter targeted the hospital with explosives, sending shrapnel flying into his office. And shortly after learning the news of his detention in Sde Teiman, Abu Safiya’s mother died of a heart attack. 

+972 spoke with Abu Safiya’s wife, Albina Abu Safiya, who sought refuge in Gaza City with relatives after being separated from her husband shortly before his arrest. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Can you introduce yourself?

My name is Albina Abu Safiya and I’m 46 years old, originally from Kazakhstan. I am married to Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya, and we have four sons and two daughters, including Ibrahim who was martyred on Oct. 25, 2024. 

I met Hussam 28 years ago, when I was 15 years old. Hussam was studying pediatrics and neonatology in my hometown of Turkestan. He was a friend of one of my relatives, and we met at a family wedding. He liked me and we began communicating with each other. In 1996, when I was 18 years old, I married Hussam and moved with him to another city in Kazakhstan so that he could complete his education.

I gave birth to my first child, Elias, in Kazakhstan, and then Hussam wanted to return to Gaza. It was difficult at first because I was young and didn’t know anything about Palestine, but what encouraged me to go to Gaza was Hussam’s kindness and care. He was affectionate and cooperative, so I decided to move with him and continue our life together.

How was the move to Gaza?

We moved to Gaza in 1998 and lived in Jabalia refugee camp. His family was loving and supportive — he has five brothers and five sisters — and interacting with them allowed me to learn Arabic very quickly.

In Gaza, we were focused on the future of our children. My eldest son Elias was married in 2020, and he currently has two children. Four months before the war began, we moved to a new house in the Sultan neighborhood on the coast of Beit Lahiya. Hussam and I were very happy and felt independent and comfortable in the new house.

What do you remember about the events of October 7?

On October 7, we felt that something big was happening. At 6:30 in the morning, rockets started being launched towards Israel from every direction. Everyone was calling us trying to understand what was happening, and to check if we were okay, because we live close to the border with Israel. My son Elias called to tell me to come to Jabalia, which he thought might be safer.

We waited for a while, hoping [Israel’s retaliation] would be temporary, but unfortunately every piece of news was bad. When we left the house for Jabalia, I did not take anything with me — not even our official papers or money. The situation was very difficult and very scary.

I lived in Gaza during all of the previous wars with Israel [2008-2009, 2012, 2014, and 2021]. During those wars, we were able to leave [for safer areas inside Gaza] and were provided with what we needed. But this is not a war. I have not lived through anything more difficult than this.

When did you move to Kamal Adwan Hospital? 

About three weeks after we had moved to Jabalia, the Israeli army called and gave us 10 minutes to evacuate the house. We left very quickly and went to a friend’s house. Hussam then asked us to come with him to Kamal Adwan, and our family remained there together.

Since the first day of the war, Hussam never stopped his work at Kamal Adwan. We’d only see him for about four hours a day: he took care of the patients, their companions, and the medical staff, while constantly following what was happening in the hospital.

When the Israeli army first stormed Kamal Adwan Hospital, on Dec. 12, 2023, they arrested the director at the time, Dr. Al-Kahlout. Hussam was appointed as the new director, and immediately the responsibility was tremendous because most of the other doctors were displaced with their families to the south, and a number of them left Gaza altogether. We had the opportunity to evacuate to Kazakhstan more than once but Hussam refused, and I stayed with him so he wouldn’t be left alone in Gaza.

After June [when the Israeli army concluded an offensive in northern and central Gaza], conditions in the hospital started to improve. Hussam appealed to the world to provide assistance and medical equipment. He started working on rebuilding the hospital.

What happened to your son Ibrahim?

[During the first months of the war,] Ibrahim had an opportunity to study in Kazakhstan, but I advised him to stay with us in Gaza until the war ends so we could all go together. He asked me several more times to go to Kazakhstan, but I didn’t agree.

Ibrahim stopped talking about going abroad once the army closed the Rafah crossing [in early May]. He started volunteering in the hospital, caring for the patients and helping the medical staff in different departments.

On Oct. 24, 2024, I asked Ibrahim to go to the market to buy some things, and several of his friends went with him. A few hours later, quadcopters that were deployed around the hospital started shooting. Ibrahim and his friends moved from one house to another to escape the bullets, and finally settled in one house. He slept there, intending to return to the hospital the next morning. This is what one of his friends — who was with him at the time and was able to return to the hospital [before the morning] — told me. I felt reassured that he was closeby and in a safe place. 

At 3:30 a.m. the next day, the Israeli army stormed the hospital and instructed everyone to leave. Hussam told them that there were patients in critical condition in intensive care who could not leave, and that we needed first aid teams to get them out. The Israeli soldiers searched [the hospital], vandalized it, and stole items like mobile phones and money from everyone. Meanwhile, there was terrifying shelling and gunfire all around the hospital. The army’s operation lasted about 30 hours. We lived through this intense terror until 10 a.m. the next day, when the army finally withdrew from the hospital.

[That morning,] I went up to my room to arrange my things and rest. A nurse came to me and asked me to come to see Ibrahim. I was surprised — I asked myself, why was she taking me to see Ibrahim when he could come and see me himself? I went down to the hospital yard and found many martyrs in their shrouds and blankets. I looked for Hussam and found him crying, and in a terrible state. I understood then that Ibrahim was martyred as a result of the violent shelling in the area of the hospital. 

It was a great shock, and I am still crying over the loss. The hardships of the whole war are nothing compared to the loss of my son Ibrahim. My son was only about 200 meters away from me, and I lost him. What eases our pain is knowing that he was not the only one, but that he was martyred with dozens alongside him.

Can you describe how Dr. Abu Safiya was injured?

The Israeli army was deliberately targeting Hussam. [In the days leading up to his injury,] they bombed his office, and when he moved to meet with doctors on the hospital stairs, they fired a bomb there.

On Nov. 23, 2024, they fired a sound bomb [from a drone] into the room he was in. He was unable to leave the room quickly enough, and the bomb exploded and injured his thigh. But there was no specialized doctor to treat him, so the medical staff gave him simple first aid and some painkillers. He continued his work using a crutch for a while. He was thinking about the patients, companions and displaced people in the hospital.

Can you talk about Dr. Abu Safiya’s arrest last month?

There were talks in December 2024 with Dr. Fathi Abu Warda [advisor to the Palestinian Health Ministry in Gaza] to coordinate the entry and exit of ambulances with the Israeli army. Suddenly, on Dec. 27, soldiers entered the hospital again and informed us that Israeli bulldozers would enter the hospital to [clear the way to] build a road [for the evacuation of patients]. 

Meanwhile, there was shelling from all sides; Israeli tanks surrounded the hospital, there were sound bombs and bullets everywhere. Booby-trapped robots were used as well. We did not understand what was happening.

The army asked to see Hussam. He went toward the Israeli tanks, and they gave him a list of four people they wanted from the hospital. Hussam told them that only one of those people was there and that he was wounded.

He told the army that he was ready to evacuate the hospital, but wanted a truck to transport the generator and other equipment to the Indonesian Hospital, as well as a bus and ambulances to transport the patients in critical condition, their companions, and medical staff. The army ordered us over loudspeakers and [speakers on] quadcopters to get the patients who could walk [to evacuate south via] Fallujah Road.

The army then sent a [Palestinian] to tell us that we had to leave the hospital. That evening, the truck and bus came to take us to the Indonesian Hospital. During that time, the intensive care unit and operating room were bombed, and some patients nearly suffocated from the smoke caused by the explosions.

About 30 of us got on the bus with the equipment, while Hussam and some patients and the medical staff — about 50 people — remained in the hospital. He told us to go to the Indonesian Hospital and that they would follow us. As the bus started moving, there were tanks in front of us. I was worried about what would happen to Hussam, whether he would follow us. 

We arrived at the Indonesian Hospital around 10 p.m. There weren’t many people inside, as the building was completely destroyed and not suitable to stay in, but I had to wait there for Hussam. At 9:30 a.m. the next day, the ambulances from Kamal Adwan transporting the patients and medical staff arrived [without Dr. Abu Safiya]. I asked them about Hussam — they had great difficulty speaking. The signs of beating and torture were clear, and their eyes were red from exhaustion. 

They told me that [Israeli soldiers] had beaten Hussam and told the rest of the medical staff to go to the Indonesian Hospital. As for Hussam, [they said] the Israeli military told him that they wanted him to stay so that they could use him as a human shield to complete their work in Kamal Adwan.

Why did you leave the Indonesian Hospital?

The Indonesian Hospital was destroyed and was not suitable for us to stay there overnight. One of the nurses suggested that we leave and head to the west of Gaza City, and that is what we did. We walked with some other people through Salah Al-Din Street until we reached Hussam’s sister’s house in the Sheikh Radwan area.

We are currently staying here with three other families in very difficult circumstances, after enduring severe hunger, shelling, and constant fear at Kamal Adwan. Now we are mostly worried about Hussam.

[When we arrived at Hussam’s sister’s house,] Hussam’s 75-year-old mother, Samiha Abu Safiya, was happy to see us [for the first time in] 90 days. She asked us about Hussam; I told her not to worry, that he would come, but she was not reassured. She was suffering from illnesses, and the intense worry about Hussam caused her not to eat for three days. She died of a heart attack on Jan. 8, before she could see him again.

What do you know about your husband’s condition?

I only hear news from the media and prisoners released from Israeli detention. I heard that he was badly beaten. I am trying to follow up and communicate with anyone to reassure me about him.

The Israeli army betrayed us and arrested Hussam, even though he was very cooperative with them and did not refuse to evacuate the hospital — he just demanded that the patients and medical staff be safe and secure. I hope he gets out soon in good health.