Turkey earthquake: Little boy rescued after 105 hours in quake rubble

Rescue teams freed him from the rubble of his home in the now devastated city of Kahramanmaras, 105 hours after the earthquake.

When he was brought into the intensive care unit, hypothermia had set in and his body temperature had dropped to 28 degrees Celsius (82 degrees Fahrenheit).

Aras may have survived, but his seven-year-old sister Hiranur did not. Neither did his nine-year-old brother Alp. Nor his father.

Earthquake numbers over 35k.

Just one of so many families irrevocably broken by this disaster.

Sitting at Aras's bedside and gently ruffling his grandson's dark hair Is Mehmet.

 

"He's an honest boy. He has a strong personality. He's sincere. He's not a spoilt boy."

Although now 72, Mehmet tells us he will for the rest of his days look after Aras as if he were his own son.

"The rescuers did so well to save him," he says, "and by God's grace, they gave him back to us alive."

Aras winces a little as the doctor changes the bandage on his swollen left foot. He's making a good recovery.

Aras's mum also survived - but he hasn't seen her since their world imploded. She is being treated at another hospital in the city but is expected to recover.

It was in an intensive care unit set up by Israeli doctors where Aras's own life was saved.

But as we walked through the ward on Monday, it was not just a child with a remarkable story but also a 65-year-old man.

Samir from Syria was plucked from the rubble after enduring six freezing nights.

Doctors then saved him, but both his legs had to be amputated.

For the medics at the heart of this disaster it's been an exhausting and traumatic week.

Paediatrician Dr Mehmet Cihan travelled from Istanbul as quickly as he could to help colleagues in this broken city.

"It's very bad. Too many children have lost their parents. I don't know. It's very hard for me... too hard for me."

The international medical effort reaches far beyond Kahramanmaras.

In the town of Turkoglu, green British tents pitched by NHS doctors stand alongside Turkish tents with red tarpaulin.

UK doctors are setting up a field hospital in the grounds of the town's hospital which was damaged in the quake.

The need for emergency care in the hours after the earthquake may have passed - but 80,000 people living here are lacking many medical services.

Dr Bryony Pointon is a GP from Chichester, who has come to Turkey as part of UK-Med - a front-line medical aid charity funded by the British government.

"We are working with the Turkish doctors and nurses that are here - setting up their own tents and seeing patients but they are quite overwhelmed," she explains.

"After all the trauma you have the people who have their usual chronic illnesses - they are still unwell, they don't have the facilities to cope. So, we will see those patients, as many as we can."

Doctors and nurses from around the world are now in Turkey to help with the physical injuries.

But the mental trauma is also profound - both the personal and the national.

It has been a week since a deadly earthquake struck Turkey and Syria, killing thousands. But amid the despair, there have been stories of "miracles". This is one of them.

When Necla Camuz gave birth to her second son on 27 January, she named him Yagiz, meaning "brave one".

Just 10 days later, at 04:17 local time, Necla was awake feeding her son at their home in southern Turkey's Hatay province. Moments later, they were buried under mounds of rubble.

Necla and her family lived on the second floor of a modern five-storey building in the town of Samandag. It was a "nice building", she says, and she had felt safe there.

She did not know that morning that the area would be torn apart by the earthquake, with buildings damaged and destroyed at every turn.

"When the earthquake started, I wanted to go to my husband who was in the other room, and he wanted to do the same thing," she says.

"But as he tried to come to me with our other son, the wardrobe fell onto them and it was impossible for them to move.

"As the earthquake got bigger, the wall fell, the room was shaking, and the building was changing position. When it stopped, I didn't realise that I had fallen one floor down. I shouted their names but there was no answer."

The 33-year-old found herself lying down with her baby on her chest, still held in her arms. A fallen wardrobe next to her saved their lives by preventing a large slab of concrete from crushing them.

The pair would remain in this position for almost four days.

Lying in her pyjamas beneath the rubble, Necla could see nothing but "pitch black". She had to rely on her other senses to work out what was going on.

To her relief, she could tell immediately that Yagiz was still breathing.

Because of the dust, she struggled at first to breathe, but said it soon settled. She was warm in the rubble.

She felt as though there were children's toys beneath her but could not manoeuvre herself to check, or to make herself more comfortable.

Other than the wardrobe, the soft skin of her newborn son, and the clothes they wore, she could feel nothing but concrete and debris.

In the distance, she could hear voices. She tried to shout for help and bang on the wardrobe.

"Is there anyone there? Can anyone hear me?" she called.

When that didn't work, she picked up the small bits of rubble that had fallen next to her. She banged them against the wardrobe, hoping it would be louder. She was scared to hit the surface above her in case it collapsed.

"You plan lots of things when you have a new baby, and then… all of a sudden you're under rubble," she says.

Still, she knew she had to look after Yagiz, and was able to breastfeed him in the confined space.

There was no source of water or food that she could access for herself. In desperation, she tried unsuccessfully to drink her own breast milk.

Necla could feel the rumble of drills overhead and hear footsteps and voices, but the muffled sounds felt far away.

She decided to save her energy and remain quiet unless the noises from outside came closer.