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Last Updated: Thursday, 18 December, 2003, 10:37 GMT
Mid-East paramedics run the gauntlet
Richard Miron and Barbara Plett follow Israeli and Palestinian ambulance crews as they struggle to cope with the dangers and problems presented by the conflict in the region, for the BBC Radio 4 documentary Red Crescent, Red Star.

Richard Miron reports first on the Israeli crews who are prepared to risk their lives on a daily basis.

Click here to read Barbara Plett's report on the Palestinian paramedics.


Richard Miron on the Israeli ambulance service

As you drive into Jerusalem from Tel Aviv on the winding four-lane highway, there is a large hoarding attached to a three-storey building on the left-hand side of the road.

On it is a large Red Star of David accompanied by the words: Magen David Adom (MDA) in English and Hebrew. The sign hangs at the main Jerusalem station of Israel's ambulance service.

Paramedic Dalia standing next to an ambulance
The hardest thing is going home after a terror attack
Paramedic Dalia
The ambulance crews in Jerusalem have been at the forefront of the battle to save the lives of those caught up in the bombings, shootings and stabbings - the bloody consequences of the conflict in the region.

MDA, is in its own words, "the second line of defence in Israel providing medical services in times of peace and war."

Dalia, a cheery 40-something mother-of-four and paramedic, has dealt with numerous victims of the attacks that have plagued the city in the past few years.

As she talked about the attacks she has had to deal with, her speech became quieter. "The hardest thing is going home after a terror attack and trying to act normally in front of the children, trying to remember to ask them about school and homework," she said.

"The things you've seen you push aside." Dalia then paused and said quietly: "That is an exceedingly tough call."

The memories of the suicide bombings and the anxiety of future attacks hang over the ambulance crews like a dark cloud.

But most of their work is taken up with so-called normal everyday tasks of ambulance services around the world - treating heart attack victims or casualties of road accidents.

Jacky Castiel, a round-faced 24-year-old, has been with MDA since he was 15. Volunteering with the organisation is a rite of passage for many Israeli high-school children.

For Jacky, Magen David Adom is like his second home. "We're like a family," he said. "Our hands are open to everybody, and in our family there are Arabs."

MDA is one of those very rare institutions in Israel, where people from differing backgrounds mix and mingle with apparent ease. In the station forecourt an ultra-orthodox paramedic with side-curls chats amiably to a female volunteer dressed in T-shirt and jeans.

Ambulance driver Jacky Castiel
Jacky believes Israelis and Arabs can live and work together
The staff includes settlers, secular Jews and Israeli Arabs. Religion, nationality and politics are forgotten amid the immediate concern of bringing help and care.

MDA also crosses some of the very real boundaries in its work. A 17-year-old Palestinian woman has been injured in a car accident in the west of the city.

The orthodox Jewish medic gently cared for her patient. At the hospital the ambulance was checked by security staff - a standard procedure given threats to bomb medical facilities.

That preoccupation with security intrudes on the work of the ambulance service. The Jerusalem station covers the whole of the municipal area including Arab east Jerusalem, as well as parts of the West Bank.

Ambulances are often accompanied by police or the army when they go into these areas, following attacks against them. But waiting for the army to accompany ambulances can mean a delay for those in urgent need of treatment.

Magen David Adom does bring relief to those it cares for but it also seems to bring comfort to those within its ranks who have to deal with the terrible reality of the situation.

As Jacky Castiel said: "Once in a while you do see the bombings, but day to day we and the Arabs do work together - you see we can live together."


Barbara Plett on the work of Palestinian ambulance crews

Ambulance on the West Bank
An ambulance gets caught up in violence on the West Bank

Jamal Balboul is on his way to pick up a patient. His first stop is an Israeli military checkpoint at the edge of Bethlehem in the occupied West Bank.

It has been closed for nearly a month, cutting off access to villages west of the city.

"Some of the soldiers treat us politely," said the 37-year-old ambulance driver, waving at the young men as they let him pass. "It depends on their mood. Some of them treat us savagely, and sometimes we feel we lose our dignity as human beings."

Jamal has come into regular contact with soldiers over the past three years of the Palestinian uprising.

During the worst days of the conflict he was dodging bullets in a war zone, trying to evacuate the wounded.

But the blockade that followed the violence has had an even greater impact on the Palestine Red Crescent ambulance workers.

The Israeli army has surrounded Bethlehem with military checkpoints and blocked off five of the entrances with great mounds of earth and rock.

The bad thing now is that we no longer work as professionals, as a skilful medical team
Jamal Balboul

It has also refused Palestinian cars access to roads used by Jewish settlers. It says this is meant to prevent attacks on Israelis by Palestinian suicide bombers and gunmen.

Whatever the intent, the result is that villagers in Bethlehem's hinterland are cut off from the city's health services, and ambulances become a crucial bridge.

Jamal arrives in the village of Wadi Fukin to pick up a man with chronic asthma. The patient is having an attack that is not life threatening, but he can't drive his car to the hospital.

"We've just become a taxi service," Jamal said with impatience on the drive back to Bethlehem.

"We do feel safer now than before. During the fighting when I left the ambulance centre or said goodbye to my family, I didn't know whether that would be the last time I'd see them. But the bad thing now is that we no longer work as professionals, as a skilful medical team."

Isreali soldiers
Ambulances are sometimes hindered at army checkpoints
Hussein Radad is also preparing to offer a "taxi" ride. The 24-year-old emergency medical technician has parked his ambulance next to one of the mud walls at the edge of the city.

A steady stream of Palestinians clamber over the mound, including a young woman carrying a newborn baby.

Leaning on her brother's arm she walks slowly towards Hussein for a ride back to her village. Normally the ambulance could drive her all the way from hospital to home, but the main checkpoint is closed today.

The woman, Amira Hassan Meshaale, says she is still in pain.

Her brother, Dr Maher Mashaale elaborates. "It was a difficult pregnancy and she had to make this journey every two weeks. Her uterus relaxed because of all the walking and we had to use a vacuum delivery."

He gestures to the mud wall. "This difficulty is only for the patients," he said angrily. "It's not for security. Anyone can walk across, the soldiers only check it every hour or so."

The soldiers don't respect the patient, the emblem, or the ambulance
Hussein Radad

Officials at the Palestine Red Crescent confirm that healthcare in the villages of the West Bank has deteriorated during the blockade. They say there is a rise in home births and infant mortality, and in the number of sick people who can't make it to hospital.

According to the army, soldiers are supposed to allow humanitarian cases through the checkpoints even when the closure is very tight.

But the ambulance workers said sometimes they have waited four or five hours, and sometimes they have had to turn back.

Hussein takes checkpoints personally, because they keep him away from home. He lives in Tulkarem, a two hour drive away, but the trip can take him up to 11 hours, so he only sees his family every four or five months.

Meanwhile he watches two more women, carrying new born babies, struggle over the mud wall.

"I am really angry about the situation at the checkpoints," he said. "In some cases the patients are vomiting, in some cases they need more treatment. The soldiers don't respect the patient, the emblem, or the ambulance."



Red Crescent, Red Star is broadcast on Thursday, 18 December at 2000 GMT on BBC Radio 4.





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