I call upon the television channels that host military analysts to dedicate a portion of their airtime — time carved directly from our lives — not to “battle maps” or “grand strategies” for wars that don’t even exist in reality, but to the details of how we survive, day by day, under fire.

Is it not the right of every citizen in Gaza to know how to deal with the drones that stalk us night and day? Is it not strange that after two years of relentless killing, we still do not know the names of these drones, their functions, or the ways they are used to take our lives?

What should one do if they wake up buried under rubble?
How do we deal with incendiary bombs — do we put them out with water, or does water only make them fiercer?
In which corner of the tent should we sleep to avoid shrapnel? And what if the tent itself is torn into a crater by a massive blast — where do the neighbours begin searching for the remains of those who were just alive a moment ago?

And what if one morning the camp awakens to find tanks at its gates? What must people do to avoid the fate of families crushed beneath their tracks in an instant?

Instead of inflating us into mythical beings who never die, would it not be far more useful for these analysts to share the simple, practical knowledge that might save a single life?

As a citizen living beneath the brutality of fire, I have the right to understand the nature of the death that may soon be mine — so that perhaps I do not die a thousand times each night. And more than that, I have the right to learn how to live. Speak to us about life — it matters far more to us than speeches about us after we are gone.