The struggle to reunite children with families in war-torn Gaza

With so many people unaccounted for, many turn to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) for help. It takes detailed information and cross-checks this with sources it can access, such as hospital lists and names of returned detainees.

More than 8,300 cases have been reported to the organisation but only about 2,100 have been closed. Of these, only a small number have led to family reunifications.

“People are in limbo – they don’t know whether their family member is alive, whether they are injured or in hospital, whether they are trapped under rubble or whether they will see them again,” says Sarah Davies from the ICRC.

Doctors and staff at hospitals also play a part in trying to connect their patients with loved ones.

Nearly a year ago, the BBC filmed a newborn baby who had been delivered by Caesarean section after her mother was killed in an Israeli air strike. Medics called the little girl “the daughter of Hanna Abu Amsha” and kept information about her in the hope her relatives could track her down.

Recently, the nursery at Al-Aqsa Martyrs’ Hospital in Deir al-Balah told us that the baby was eventually handed over to her father and was doing well.

Days after the Masri family’s reunion, a local journalist working with the BBC visited Kawther and her grandchildren in the al-Mawasi displaced people’s camp where they now live in a tent. With aid in short supply, Unicef had given them help to get extra food and medication.

The girls also had warm jackets – some protection against the cold temperatures which have led to several babies dying of hypothermia, including at the camp on the coast, close to the city of Khan Younis.

While Kawther is relieved to have the children with her, she still does not feel they are safe. She worries about how to care for them and their mental health.

“They are in shock,” she says. “No matter how much we try to distract the girls and avoid talking of the war, every now and then they wander off in thought.”

“When night falls, they are afraid. They say: ‘There’s a plane, there’s a strike.’ They ask me: ‘Is it dawn yet?’ and only when morning comes, they start to feel reassured.”

Kawther says she desperately hopes for a ceasefire and for her grandchildren to rebuild their lives. Not to become part of a lost generation.