This morning, while I’m walking back from my healthcare center, I’m realized that if I’d live in Gaza, I’d be dead. My condition has no treatment, no cure, so medicine shortage would be no the problem. The problem would be everything else. My children would only have their father or would be orphans depending on the good heart of the neighbors. Or would be dead too. I’m not able to produce the energy I need to make a normal life. With each effort my condition worsen. And by “effort” I mean each thing that requires an energy cost higher than I can assume: temperature regulation, be afraid or worried, make decisions, move, heard, think… A day will come when breath will be over my energy producing capabilities and that day I’ll die. That day is still decades away, but in Gaza that day would be overcome long time ago. Since my condition started to worsen enough to prevent me to have a normal live, I realize that people’s natural leaning is help. Help is easy when the need is just in front of you and doesn’t require a sacrifice, like caught someone who is about to fall. Far from that, it starts to operate something that I call the dehumanization process. I’ll try to explain it. (Apologies, I’m smarter in Spanish) When I was a child, there was a woman that, time to time, took care of me. Once she told me that her husband was not a bad person because he never did bad things. But he neither was a good person, because he never did good things. Then, I didn’t understood her. Nowadays, her words visits me often. No, dear, your husband was, indeed, a bad person. (+) #Gaza #Palestine #StopIsrael #humanity