Coffee Talk #32: Generations of heartbreak (Part 1)

A young kid, by the looks of it around the same age as my son, is lying on a hospital bed. Based on how his wounds are treated, and the monitor he’s hooked upto, you can tell a team of medical professionals has delivered its expertise. The boy looks a bit drowsy, presumably from the anaesthetics. By his bed stands one of the doctors who performed surgery on the young patient, and he tells the heartbreaking story of what had happened.

Somewhere in Gaza, the boy and his family members found a can of tuna. One could easily imagine a sense of joy or relief, when finding a can of food after having been exposed to the scarcity of primary needs for months on end. So out of joy or happiness, or relief, or salvation, but definitely out of need, the young boy opened the can. And is now dealing with the terrible consequences of that fateful decision. For the rest of his life.

A can of tuna. We’ve probably seen millions of them during our lifetime already. Supermarkets, advertisements, kitchens, salads and sandwhiches. Every time there’s aid needed in some part of the globe, cans of tuna are marking their presence. Easy to transport, and categorised as a non-perishable product.

However, the can of tuna that made its way into devastated Gaza, opened by this young boy, in front of his parents and sisters, turned out to be a mine instead. That’s right. A mine. Carefully disguised as a product which is currently in high demand. Crafted to inflict irrevocable trauma and possible death when put to use.

While all his family members sustained injuries from the blast, the boy paid the highest price. Most of both legs as well as one hand needed to be amputated. The remaining hand severely damaged.

Children in Gaza are already forced to suffer in this horrifying ordeal which is impossible to adequately describe, but very much the reality they can’t escape from. The doctor explaining what happened is clear and concise, something you’d expect from a medical professional. He adds a layer of humanity where countless other people creating content on the same subject do not. And he’s brutally honest saying this young boy is not an isolated case, but in fact, just one of countless others. I’ve seen the numbers of how many children so far had to face amputation in order to stay alive, significantly adding to the sincere and profound heartbreak that was already present. First and foremost, that applies to the people on the ground living through this nightmare. Secondly, for everyone born with a sense of empathy, witnessing these facets of war through various media channels.

To me, and with me a large amount of similar-minded people, the life of one child suffering because of conflict, is already one too many. It’s as easy as that. One, simply, is too many. The released numbers though, join the doctor in saying there are countless others, confirming the horrific excess of inflicted trauma and mutilation. When one is too many, words fall short in describing the grave severity of what has been going on.

While my presence on social media isn’t large, I can assure you my feed has been dominated by graphic images of these kind for over half a year now. Of course, this triggers emotions. And fueled by those emotions, there are reactions. And out of those emotions and reactions come conclusions. One of the few things I can conclude as a witness-from-afar, is that resorting to such devious methods as boobytrapping a can of tuna, deliberately placing it in an area where hunger is being forced upon the people, illustrates a disturbingly heinous sort of evil, which shouldn’t have been devised, let alone authorised, and could never be justified.