MSF's hospital in Old Fangak engulfed in flames following a reported airstrike, with staff seen working to extinguish the fire on Saturday, May 3, 2025. Photo Courtesy ~ edited and moderated by Eye Radio

David Charo Kahindi, MSF’s Medical Coordinator in South Sudan, was in Old Fangak the day
the hospital was bombed and was part of the team extinguishing the fire and treating and
evacuating the wounded patients. Here, he describes what happened.

“I had no words to explain to the patients that the hospital was no longer safe for them.” I was woken by the bombing at around 04:50 on Saturday morning. Helicopters were flying overhead, and I could hear people screaming all around us. Each time I heard the helicopters, I feared for my life—more so for the patients, the staff, and the community. The bombing lasted for about an hour. All I heard were guns firing and the population crying out in terror.

As soon as it quieted, I took a boat and rushed to the hospital. At the gate, I met our watchman and saw that it had been completely shattered. Bullets were scattered everywhere. Inside the compound, I stepped over remnants of exploded weaponry.

The pharmacy was on fire.

Everyone—our team and people from the community—were using buckets to fetch water and try to extinguish the flames. It was a desperate task. The fuel tanks were just meters away, and we feared a second explosion. I initially thought we might save some of the medicines, but it became clear the intent had been total destruction. Whoever bombed the hospital wanted everything inside that pharmacy to burn. It took us five hours to fully extinguish the flames.

Inside the hospital, I went first to the men’s ward. The two patients who had been there the night before were gone. There were bullet holes in the floor and blood stains, but no patients. It was the same in the women’s ward.

I reached the emergency room next. The team was trying to stabilize 20 new patients from the town—some critically injured, shot in the head, chest, or abdomen. We used what little supplies we had, but it was nowhere near enough.

After stabilizing them, we evacuated the patients by speedboat to a village an hour away—one we hoped was safe. Most of the patients were women, and some were just children, as young as 15. We sheltered them in a single tent, gave them what medicine we had, and prepared them for air evacuation to Akobo the next day.

By then, around 10,000 people had fled to the same village. It was clear we couldn’t care for that many with what little we had. We sent an urgent request to our Juba team. With support from the United Nations, we were able to airlift 350kg of medical supplies to keep running a health post from that single tent. We pray there are no more wounded, but we continue to hear of bombing in nearby areas.

I am completely heartbroken. That hospital had stood for over 10 years. It was a lifeline to more than 100,000 people—a place of healing, safety, and hope. A 35-bed facility with inpatient wards, an outpatient department, maternity care, and referral services. Today, there is nothing left. Hospitals should never be targets. I utterly condemn this attack.