Life of Gazans remains cruel, even when the whole world sees our suffering.
My uncle, who suffers from Crohn’s disease and several other serious illnesses, spent years waiting for a life-saving surgery that was delayed by the war.
When he finally received a medical referral to Egypt, he arrived only to find himself stranded, spending days outside the hospital in a remote area before being given a room.
Patients are not allowed to leave the hospital if they want treatment, and eventually he was forced to sign away his right to the surgery and pay for his care himself.
His story is not unique—many Gazans sent abroad for medical treatment face the same reality.
For the people of Gaza, a normal life remains out of reach.
Don’t forget about us.
Doa paling sedih yang pernah aku dengar:
اللهم أغفر لكل ميت لا يجد من يدعو له
"Ya Allah, ampunilah setiap orang mati yang tidak ada seorangpun yang mendoakannya." 🥹
Sia-sia ada PTD, ada pekerja dalam kementerian masing-masing kalau xboleh bagi solution. Kami lah yg raise the issue supaya korang nampak, kami jugak nak kena terlibat memikirkan cara pengurusan Rohingya ni ??
It’s also the small struggles in Gaza that accumulate and deplete the bodies. Carrying jerrycans of water, queuing for food, starting a fire, manually washing clothes and more. Help here: https://t.co/dT6xhwzZFU
The videos coming out of Gaza typically show the killings and destruction but they don’t show the painful daily tasks. Women spend their day just trying to keep their tents clean and taking care of their children despite the obstacles.
Three years in tents. We are coming up to 3 years and there is no clear end to this. The Sameer Project tries to provide some relief by providing good quality tents and water to our camps in Central Gaza.
Support our camps by donating to the Refaat Alareer Campaign: https://t.co/dT6xhwzZFU
Other ways to donate include:
https://t.co/OmIU4SifDD (Paypal option, please make sure to add a message saying "Camp")
https://t.co/WNZu0ERJci (Venmo option, please make sure to add a message saying "Camp")
There are moments in Gaza when suffering becomes so ordinary that people stop asking for solutions.
They begin asking only for the smallest relief. A little less pain.
A child who sleeps through the night.
When I entered the clinic that morning, I noticed a young woman carrying a baby so small that I could not tell whether the child was a newborn or simply made tiny by hardship.
When her turn came, she gently placed the baby on my desk and said:
“I want any cream you have.” Any cream. Not a specific medicine. Not a particular treatment.
Just anything.
She uncovered the baby and showed me the severe rash covering much of the child’s fragile skin.
“I treat the baby with whatever free creams I can find in clinics,” she explained.
“Anything helps.”
As she spoke, I noticed something else. The baby was not wearing a diaper. Only pieces of cloth.
I asked why.
“I can’t afford diapers,” she replied calmly. “I wash these and use them again.”
Then she added that they were living in a tent and that her husband had suffered a serious foot injury and was unable to work.
“I’m not asking for much,” she said.
“I only want a cream.”
But what caught my attention most was not the rash.
It was the malnutrition.
The baby was severely underweight. The kind of malnutrition that is visible before any examination even begins.
So I asked the mother whether she had noticed.
She nodded. “Yes, I know.”
Then she said something I cannot forget: “When the baby gets older, things will get better.”
Not because she truly believed it.
But because hope was cheaper than treatment.
And treatment was something she could no longer afford. That was the moment that broke me.
Not the tent. Not the poverty. Not even the illness.
But the fact that this mother had lowered her expectations so much that she no longer dreamed of proper medical care, diapers, or adequate nutrition.
She came asking for the smallest thing she could imagine. A tube of cream.
Any cream.
Something that might make the baby hurt a little less.
The baby could not have been more than five months old.
Too young to understand war. Too young to understand poverty. Yet already carrying both on that tiny body.
There is something profoundly cruel about a world in which a mother’s greatest hope for her child is no longer a better future.
Only a little less suffering tonight.
#WoundedGaza
Aku baru sedar kalau naikkan gaji local, ada pihak tak dpt benefit apa. Tp bila import skilled foreign worker, a few pihak dpt keuntungan besar. Punya la golongan elite dan keparat nak jaga each other ya. And im sensing this got something to do with political donations too