Along with other residents of the Gori District, Venera received warning to hole up in her basement if the sound of aircrafts thundered overhead. She did as she was told when that moment arrived on the 12th of August. But the 71-year-old wasn't quite quick enough.

"At 9:30 in the morning I heard the bombing. I did as we were instructed and ran down stairs as best I could. But as I reached the basement door, I felt a sharp pain in my leg. It was too late. A pool of blood had already gathered beneath me. I looked myself over in disbelief, a piece of shrapnel had gone from one side of my leg, through the bone and to the other side," Venera told me from her hospital bed in Tbilisi late last week.

Despite her injury, Venera dragged herself from her basement up to the courtyard outside her house to try and find her son. The two of them had been planning to flee their village that day. Having heard the bombing, she feared the worst. Meanwhile, her condition rapidly became critical as she began to lose litres of blood.

"The rest of it becomes a blur, I can remember my son carrying me to his car and thinking I was going to die ... thank God we made it to Tbilisi in time."

A moment later, a crowd of women dressed in black come pouring into the small room where Venera will stay until she recovers from her wounds. They all sob as they hug their dear neighbour, relative and friend. Their visit is brief. They are just about to return to their villages a few kilometres to the north of Gori for the first time since the conflict erupted there. Some already know what they will find.

"My house only has three walls," said one of the women with a tissue clenched in her fist. Others are yet to find out. I leave them to say their goodbyes and wish Venera all the best for her future.

In the room next door to Venera is Guili, possibly one of the most recognised faces in the western media of the conflict between Russia and Georgia. The image of her slumped amidst rubble in a blood stained top, a scream frozen on her face, with burning buildings in the background, was sent around the world in the first week of the fighting. But now, as she lies silent in her bed, covered in bandages and with her limbs strapped up, Guili is oblivious to the fact that her face has come to symbolise the civilian suffering caused during this conflict.

Guili can hear me but can only respond with a nod, smile or frown. Since the moment captured in the photo, she has not been able to speak. We exchange a few nods and I then join Marmuka, a vascular surgeon working at the hospital.

Marmuka is one of the members of staff at the Surgery Institute of Georgia who will be working with the $20,000 worth of drugs and equipment that Oxfam has just delivered here. He leads me outside and tells me more about Guili's condition.

"When she first came in, she was called 'unknown lady number seven' until a colleague recognised her from the images in the papers. She is recovering but it will take some time. She has suffered a lot."

As I left the hospital, I wondered how many other unknown civilian victims of this conflict remained in need of help in the still inaccessible villages nestled in the folds of the Caucasus Mountains beyond.

Oxfam International and its partner NGOs are currently assisting displaced people in Georgia who fled areas of conflict. Oxfam would be prepared to help any civilians affected by the conflict, whether they are in Georgia, South Ossetia, or North Ossetia, if granted safe access to assess the situation and if assistance were needed. Russia has said it is managing relief operations in South and North Ossetia.

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