I spent most of my childhood summers in Morocco. There was a point in my life when I believed In my eyes , Morocco was a completely flourishing beautiful country where people lived out their exuberant lavish lifestyles surrounded by beaches and amidst tropical weather,then I started traveling within its borders. One summer vacation, my mother decided to take me,my brother and my sister to what she liked to call the countryside of Morocco. The countryside of Morocco turned out to acres of barren land holding houses made from dried mud. Houses that are probably more like shacks that housed sometimes up to twenty people.However the people had even more personality than the houses. The village we visited was comprised of simple civilians who dedicated …show more content…
After I came back home that summer, the poverty and lack of healthcare provided to the region visited lingered in my mind but and I was bothered that there was essentially nothing i could do in power to help a whole village with a problem that wasn't addressed. A couple of months and many phone calls later, my family found out my second cousin , a young man in his early thirties had fallen from a ladder and had sustained a couple of non life threatening injuries. It didn't occur to me that he would die a week later from unforeseen organ failure. His entire body shut down and his life abruptly ended for nothing. His life ended because he was treated at a public country located in a third world county. A hospital that most likely didn't have enough doctors or even enough beds to accommodate its patients. After my family found out we were utterly shocked, because we couldn't understand how simply falling from a ladder could result in death, we were astounded because we knew that had he been given the chance to be treated somewhere else, the likelihood of him still being alive is