- Before the War… When Life Was Still Life
We once lived a simple, peaceful life in Beit Lahia, northern Gaza.
Our home was small, but full of warmth. My daughter’s tiny footsteps echoed through the hallway. My father’s gentle voice filled our evenings with prayer. I dreamed of finishing my master’s degree, building a small family business, and raising my child with love and stability.
We didn’t count the days.
We simply lived them.
Until one day… time itself turned against us
- The First Month… When the Sky Fell
War came without warning.
At first, we believed it would pass quickly. But the sky did not stop screaming, and the ground trembled beneath us with every strike.
Before I could even call his name, my father was gone.
We fled our home carrying only what we could hold: a baby, some documents, and a silence too heavy to describe.
That was the month I learned what it means when the sky forgets how to be merciful.
- Rafah… The Night Everything Broke
We reached Rafah exhausted, believing we had found safety.
We were wrong.
One cold night, a missile struck the place we were sheltering in.
My daughter, Hoor, died in my arms.
She was asleep… still holding her toy.
Alongside her, two little girls from our family — Sham and Mira — were gone in an instant.
After that night, motherhood became fear.
I was afraid to love… afraid the sky would take whoever I held next.
- The First Winter… Life Inside a Tent
Displacement did not happen once.
It happened again… and again… and again.
Each tent was smaller than the one before.
Each night colder.
Each morning heavier.
Rain leaked through the roof.
Wind crept beneath our blankets.
The ground swallowed our sleep.
We stopped speaking in full sentences.
Only glances… only sighs.
Mid-War… When Survival Replaced Living
We were forced to move again — this time to Deir al-Balah.
There was no water.
No medicine.
No real food.
The days blurred into each other like an open wound.
We forgot how to laugh.
Even saying our names felt too heavy.
- Returning Home… To Nothing
A ceasefire was announced — fragile and uncertain.
We walked back to Beit Lahia, holding onto hope with every step.
But our home was gone.
No walls.
No memories intact.
Only ashes and silence.
We placed a tent over the ruins, as if to say:
“We are still here… even if nothing else is.”
- After More Than 930 Days… The War Changed Shape
More than 930 days have passed.
The war did not end.
It only became quieter… and harsher.
We were displaced not once, not twice — but countless times.
Each time we carried less.
Each time we lost more.
We stopped asking “Where are we going?”
Because every place became temporary.
Every place became unsafe.
- When War Turned Into Hunger
The bombs did not disappear.
But something else began to destroy us more slowly:
Hunger.
Food became nearly impossible to find.
Prices rose beyond anything we could imagine.
A single bag of flour became a luxury.
We rationed everything.
We skipped meals.
We watched our bodies grow weaker… in silence.
Because even speaking about hunger hurts.
- Exhaustion… Beyond Words
This war did not only destroy buildings.
It exhausted us completely.
Our strength faded.
Our patience wore thin.
Even hope became heavy.
We are not just tired —
we are emptied.
- Now… A Tent on Agricultural Land
Today, we live on agricultural land.
Not in a home.
Not even in a proper shelter.
There is no infrastructure.
No clean water.
No sanitation.
No safety.
We built a fragile tent with our own hands.
It does not protect us from heat, cold, or fear.
At night, rats move around us —
close to where we sleep… close to our children.
This is not life.
It is survival.
- A Child Born Into War
In the middle of all this, my daughter Wod was born.
There were no celebrations.
No safety.
No comfort.
She has no proper crib.
No reliable milk.
No stable environment.
Wod is alive…
But she has not yet truly lived.
- Our Goal: $50,000 to Survive and Rebuild
We are trying to raise $50,000 to secure the most basic needs for survival and to rebuild a minimum level of stability.
This amount will help us:
Build a safe and durable shelter to replace the fragile tent
Provide clean water and sanitation
Secure food for the coming months as prices continue to rise
Cover medical care and essential supplies
Support basic needs for our children, especially baby Wod
This is not about comfort.
It is about survival with dignity.
- What Remains After All This Time
After more than 930 days:
We are still here.
But we are no longer the same.
We are weaker.
Hungrier.
More fragile than ever before.
Our laughter is gone.
Our dreams are buried beneath rubble and worn-out tents.
- We Are Not Asking for Much
We are not asking for miracles.
We are asking for the basic things that make us human:
Safety.
Water.
Food.
Medical care.
A future for our children.
A door that closes…
Not a torn tent in an empty field.
- Help Us Survive
Your donation will not stop the war.
But it can give us something we have lost:
A chance to live.
A chance to protect our children.
A chance to rebuild even the smallest part of our lives.
Help us survive.
Because after everything we have endured…
we are still here.
And we are still holding on
Organizer and beneficiary
C V
Beneficiary