Kinaan Dadou was seven years old on 7 October 2023 when a Hamas rocket aimed at the Israeli settlement of Efrat missed by several hundred metres and exploded outside his family home in Um Rukbeh, west of Bethlehem. Shrapnel struck his head. An Israeli soldier promised to call an ambulance; none arrived. It took six hours for a doctor to see him. His brain haemorrhaged throughout. He has not spoken since. Now ten, Kinaan lies in a persistent vegetative state, fed through a tube, breathing through a tracheostomy. His parents — Alaa and Woroud Dadou — have spent nearly two years navigating a bureaucratic void that perfectly illustrates the governance vacuum in Area C of the occupied West Bank. The Palestinian Authority, which administers healthcare for Palestinians there, covered initial brain surgeries but has refused to fund further specialist care and been inconsistent even with medication. Under Palestinian law, children with disabilities are entitled to at least 75% of rehabilitation costs and the highest standard of free healthcare. The PA health ministry did not respond to questions. Israel, as the occupying power with de facto control over virtually every facet of life in Area C — construction permits, movement, demolition orders — told the family's lawyer that Kinaan was injured outside its jurisdiction. This is the same jurisdiction that recently issued a warning to demolish the family home. The Israeli body that oversees the Palestinian territories, Cogat, also did not respond to questions. The family exists in a space where Israel controls the conditions of life but disclaim responsibility for its consequences, while the PA claims administrative authority but delivers it inconsistently. The material toll is precise. Alaa pays 4,000 shekels (£950) per month for medication alone, borrowing to cover costs. He lost his income when Israel stopped issuing work permits to most West Bank Palestinians after 7 October. A specialist in Turkey assessed that intensive rehabilitation and further surgery could improve Kinaan's condition, at a cost of roughly $250,000. To save money, Woroud has taught herself to change her son's breathing tube — a procedure that saves £225 monthly — by watching doctors perform it in hospital. She reuses tubes longer than recommended; sometimes Kinaan coughs. Alaa learned that a former Israeli colleague whose child was also injured on 7 October had the child flown to Germany for treatment. The child improved. The comparison is not abstract: it is the same event, the same date, the same type of injury, filtered through two entirely different systems of care based solely on which population the child belongs to. Alaa's observation is blunt: if Kinaan were a settler child — even in an illegal settlement surrounding his home — he would have had a bomb shelter and immediate medical treatment. The case illuminates a structural pattern rather than an exception. Area C governance creates a population that is administered by one authority, controlled by another, and medically abandoned by both. Palestinian law promises healthcare that the PA does not deliver. International law imposes obligations on occupying powers that Israel does not acknowledge. The family has appealed on humanitarian grounds to both sides. 'We've knocked on every door,' Alaa says. 'Neither side takes responsibility for us.' Kinaan's blue notebook, filled with his childlike handwriting — 'pepper, cabbage, knight' — sits in the house alongside Mickey Mouse blankets and photos of the boy who wanted to be a pilot. His parents are realistic: they do not expect full recovery. They want to relieve his suffering and their own guilt. 'It's another kind of pain for a mother and a father, not knowing what exactly is hurting your child,' Alaa says. The room is silent except for the sucking sound every time Kinaan draws breath.
