On a brisk autumn day in late September 2025, two very different but intimately connected stories unfolded, capturing the world’s attention and laying bare the complex web of politics, tragedy, and hope surrounding the ongoing crisis in Gaza. The first played out on the global diplomatic stage, as Colombia’s President Gustavo Petro found himself at the center of a heated dispute with the United States over his outspoken support for Palestine and subsequent visa revocation. The second, quieter but no less profound, took place in a Baltimore hospital room, where a young woman named Nada Jwaifel, a survivor of the Gaza bombings, took her first steps on a leg that doctors once thought would be lost forever.
President Gustavo Petro, known for his leftist politics and history as a member of the M19 movement, delivered a fiery speech at the 80th United Nations General Assembly on September 23. According to multiple reports, including coverage by Breitbart, Petro condemned Israel for what he described as genocide in Gaza and called for the creation of a multinational army—one that would, in his words, "free Palestine." Petro’s remarks didn’t stop at criticism of Israel; he also accused then-President Donald Trump of being an "accomplice" to the violence in Gaza and went so far as to call for U.S. soldiers to disobey their commander-in-chief and join his proposed international force. "This must be greater than that of the United States. That is why, from here in New York, I ask all soldiers in the U.S. Army not to point their guns at humanity. Disobey the orders of Trump. Obey the orders of humanity," Petro declared to a crowd during a pro-Palestinian demonstration in New York on September 26, standing alongside Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters and other activists.
The U.S. State Department responded swiftly and decisively. Citing Petro’s "reckless and incendiary actions," it revoked his U.S. visa within hours of the demonstration. The Colombian leader, undeterred, returned to Bogotá and took to social media, insisting that he didn’t need a U.S. visa because, as he put it, "I am not only a Colombian citizen but also a European citizen, and in reality, I consider myself a free person in the world." He argued that his criticisms of Israel and the United States were not unlawful but rather "a moral and political obligation in the face of possible serious violations of international humanitarian law and the human rights of that population," as stated by the Colombian Foreign Ministry.
The Colombian government, for its part, was quick to frame the U.S. decision as a violation of international law and freedom of expression. In an official statement, the Foreign Ministry argued that "denying or revoking a visa—as a diplomatic weapon—undermines the spirit of the 1945 [U.N.] Charter of on-site participation with the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression regardless of borders." The statement even suggested that, if such actions continued, it might be necessary to find a new, neutral host for the United Nations itself.
Petro’s weekend was spent doubling down on his positions, engaging in heated exchanges on social media, and announcing a government rally "for dignity and democracy" in Ibagué, Colombia, scheduled for October 3. His inner circle rallied behind him, with prominent figures such as Interior Minister Armando Benedetti and former Medellín mayor Daniel Quintero publicly voicing their support. Meanwhile, former Colombian Interior Minister Daniel Palacios called on Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni to review Petro’s Italian citizenship, citing alleged support for narco-terrorist groups.
While the diplomatic drama played out at the highest levels, the human cost of the conflict in Gaza was underscored by the story of Nada Jwaifel, which was brought to light by NPR. Nada’s ordeal began on October 31, 2023, when her home in Gaza was bombed, killing her six siblings and grandmother. She was pinned under rubble for hours, her leg so badly injured that doctors in Tunisia, where she was evacuated, believed amputation was the only option. A photograph of Nada, taken by Motaz Azaiza, went viral and ultimately reached Dr. Sami Tuffaha, a plastic and reconstructive surgeon in Baltimore. Moved by her plight, Dr. Tuffaha arranged for Nada to come to the United States for a last-chance surgery to save her leg.
"Her leg was pinned under the rubble for many hours. And she lost blood flow to her leg, which led to all the muscles in her leg that would allow her to walk and provide function—all those muscles had died, leading the Tunisian doctors to think that she would be better off without it than with it," Dr. Tuffaha explained. In a groundbreaking procedure, he transplanted the latissimus muscle from Nada’s back into her leg, reconnecting blood vessels and nerves to restore function. The risks were high, but the gamble paid off. As of September 2025, Nada is able to walk again and is undergoing physical therapy, living in Baltimore with her mother while her father remains in Tunisia.
Nada’s story is one of resilience and hope, but it also highlights the deepening politicization of humanitarian aid. Until August 2025, the U.S. State Department had allowed a small number of children from Gaza needing urgent medical treatment to enter the country with their parents. That changed after far-right activist Laura Loomer pressured the administration to halt these visas, arguing that "the U.S. is full." The State Department, in a statement to NPR, cited national security concerns and suggested that other countries—specifically those that had recently recognized a Palestinian state—should step up to provide medical assistance instead.
Both Dr. Tuffaha and Nada voiced their dismay at this turn of events. "Providing care to children in need across the world—that’s something that shouldn’t be political or controversial here in the United States," Dr. Tuffaha said. Nada, reflecting on her own experience, added, "Children in Gaza—they have the right to be treated because they were stripped of their right to live." Despite the odds, Nada dreams of becoming a doctor herself, hoping to return one day and help other children in Gaza.
The juxtaposition of these two stories—one of political confrontation, the other of personal survival—lays bare the tensions and contradictions at the heart of the global response to the Gaza crisis. On one hand, world leaders like Petro use their platforms to demand justice and humanitarian intervention, sometimes at the cost of diplomatic fallout. On the other, individuals like Nada and Dr. Tuffaha quietly push back against the tide, proving that compassion and perseverance can sometimes triumph where politics fails.
As the world watches events in Gaza, Colombia, and Washington unfold, the stories of Gustavo Petro and Nada Jwaifel serve as a stark reminder: the consequences of conflict are always personal, and the struggle for dignity and humanity continues, one voice and one life at a time.