My name is Kareem Jouda. I am 29 years old, from Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza.

For years, like so many people here, I dreamed of a simple life. We held onto that dream and survived on hope alone. Hope was our fuel in the middle of Gaza’s daily hardships.

Everything changed on October 7. After the attack on the border, we knew a devastating war would follow and it did. Within days, evacuation orders were issued and our area was declared a dangerous combat zone. I left my home with nothing, not knowing I would never see it again.

From that day on, my life became a cycle of displacement. I moved from a home to a tent and from one temporary shelter to another. I had already lost my job before the war and during it I lost my home. Now survival itself has become a daily struggle.

My family, my parents and siblings, fled together, sharing the trauma and uncertainty of war. My brother has two children. One was born during the conflict and the other before it began. Every day we do everything we can to protect them and give them a sense of safety, even in the most unstable conditions.

From the first day of the war, I began documenting what ordinary people in Gaza were living through. I wanted the world to see that we are human beings who dream of life, not death, and that we are not just victims or headlines.

Today, the war has stopped and my family and I have survived. We are relatively safe, but we have lost everything. Our home, our work, and any sense of stability are gone.

What we need now is not temporary aid, but a real and dignified shelter. Living in tents is unsafe and exhausting, especially for children. They offer no protection from extreme heat, cold, or storms, and they provide no sense of privacy or stability.

That is why I am trying to build a small wooden cabin for my family. It would be a simple structure, not a luxury, but a safe and solid place where we can finally feel protected. A place where children can sleep without fear and where my family can begin to heal after months of displacement.

Due to severe shortages of materials after the war, building this wooden cabin is extremely costly. However, it remains far safer and more sustainable than continuing to live in tents. This cabin represents dignity, safety, and the first real step toward rebuilding a stable life.

Your support will go directly toward building this wooden shelter. It is not just about walls and a roof, it is about restoring privacy, security, and a sense of home for a family that has lost everything.

If you believe in humanity and in giving survivors a real chance to rebuild their lives, please stand with me.

Every contribution, no matter how small, brings us closer to a safe home and a new beginning.