Dr. Hicham El Ghaoui – Humanitarian Doctor & Emergency Specialist
I am Dr. Hicham El Ghaoui, a 41-year-old physician based in Verbier, in the Swiss Alps. I was born in Normandy, France, to a modest family with Moroccan roots. My father left Morocco at 18 for France, at a time when workers were actively recruited. Although he would have preferred to stay, family pressure led him to France, where he worked before returning to Morocco and meeting my mother. Together, they settled in Le Havre, Normandy, and raised five children. I am the third.
I grew up in a working-class neighborhood. We had no luxuries, but we had what mattered: the sea a few kilometers away, nearby forests, and a decent school. My parents raised us with a strict yet fair education and strong, simple values.
Though medicine fascinated me, I initially considered it an unreachable goal. After high school, I worked for several months on the Renault factory assembly line. That experience quickly showed me what I did not want for my future. At 18, performing repetitive tasks in harsh conditions reignited my desire to study.
One night, a TV documentary changed everything. It showed doctors traveling the world on a hospital plane. They operated on a young blind girl in India, who embraced the doctor after regaining her sight. That moment was powerful. I told my mother: “I will study medicine. I will become a doctor.”
I studied general medicine, emergency care, and trauma medicine in Brussels, with international internships and travel that kept me
grounded. After graduation, I moved to the French Alps and gained extensive trauma experience, especially treating winter sports and mountain accident victims.
Life then brought me to the Swiss Alps, where I worked for nearly twelve years and built a family with my three daughters, who are my greatest treasure.
Throughout my career, I never forgot why I chose medicine. I explored humanitarian medicine, but I was disillusioned by missions that seemed more about easing the volunteers’ consciences than creating lasting impact. Providing care without building sustainable solutions didn’t make sense to me: “Teach me to fish, don’t just give me a fish.”
In 2024, faced with the catastrophic and silent genocide in Gaza, I decided to act. I completed three humanitarian missions there: in April, July, and December. What I witnessed was beyond a humanitarian crisis—it was systematic annihilation. I saw decapitated babies, mothers bringing pieces of their children in plastic bags to declare their deaths, burn victims screaming in pain with no medications to relieve them. No screen can ever capture that horror.
During these missions, I worked on the front lines, in emergency rooms treating war-wounded: polytrauma cases, burns, and bombing injuries. To stand by and do nothing was unthinkable.
The contrast between Verbier and Gaza is extreme. Yet, it reflects our world. I accept the paradox of treating skiers at an exclusive resort, then treating civilians under bombs. What matters is staying true to your values.
Today, I continue my commitment as a citizen by participating in the March to Gaza. Walking across the Sinai Desert with thousands of others to protest at the gates of Rafah is a way to reject indifference. Unlike short-term missions, this is a political and citizen-led action.
Medicine has its limits in the face of genocide. But citizen mobilization can still influence change. I love the mountains, peace, and comfort, but turning a blind eye was never an option. These contradictions drive me—not for appearances, but out of necessity.
