Hi, my name is Kendra based out of San Bernardino, CA. Please see my friends story below:

Help Abdullah & His Family Survive Hunger & Destruction in Gaza (Abdullah's Story from Gaza):

Help my family & I Stay Alive

My name is Abdullah Rizq Al-Majdalawi. I’m 23 years old, the eldest son in a family of seven: my father, my mother, my three younger brothers, my only sister, and me. I've lived under siege my entire life — but nothing compares to what we are going through today amid this devastating war.

I never imagined I would be writing my story from the heart of a catastrophe, asking for something so simple: to live. Just to live.

I’m a student at Al-Azhar University in Gaza. I had only a few hours of coursework left before graduation when the war broke out and destroyed everything. Before the war, I was an ambitious young man dreaming of completing my postgraduate studies and starting a small food production project to support my family and community.

We lived a modest life, but it was full of love and hope. We used to gather as a family, plan for the future, and dream like any other family in this world.

But today, all I have left is a dream… inside a tent, under the constant threat of hunger.

Displacement and Losing Everything

When the war began, shells fell near our home. We had no choice but to flee, leaving everything behind. Our home was completely destroyed.

We moved from one place to another in search of safety — but never found it. First, we took refuge in a relative’s house, which was overcrowded with over 30 people. We slept shoulder to shoulder on the ground, barely finding space to stretch our bodies. There wasn’t enough food or clean water for everyone, no privacy, no ventilation. Even using the bathroom was a struggle.

During this time, I lost my cousin and closest friend in a sudden airstrike — I couldn’t even say goodbye. Every day, I lose someone, a dream, or a part of myself.

We then sought shelter in a school that was opened as a refuge center. The conditions were even worse… dozens of families crammed into every classroom. No doors, no electricity, no safety, and none of the basics for a humane life. Children screamed at night, and mothers cried silently. I couldn’t sleep from the cold, the noise, and the fear.

Eventually, we found an empty piece of land where we set up a worn-out tent. We’ve been living in it ever since. Every day has become the same — a bitter struggle just to stay alive.

My daily life is a battle for survival. Everything around me is either destroyed or under threat. I no longer think about my future — I just ask myself: "Will we survive until tomorrow?"

I go out often looking for any kind of work — just to bring back a little food for my family. We had no cooking gas, so I would search daily for some firewood, cardboard, or burnt plastic to start a fire. Sometimes I go far and put myself at risk — not knowing if I’ll come back alive — just to bring back a small amount, barely enough to boil water or heat a little food (if we have any).

Many nights we’ve gone to bed with nothing to eat. In winter, we try to light a fire inside the tent to stay warm, filling it with smoke that almost chokes us. Every cooked meal is a battle in itself — between the fear of airstrikes and the fear of not having anything to cook at all.

We measure our days not by hours, but by how much water we have left, how much food we can prepare, and how much wood we’ve gathered.

We have no enough food, no clean water, no income, no safety — not even a flicker of hope. My father can no longer work due to the war and suffers from a chronic illness that requires medication we cannot afford.

My youngest brother is 10 years old — all he’s known of childhood is fear, hunger, and displacement. My mother tries her best to keep us emotionally strong despite the pain.

I used to have a phone, but it was stolen during our displacement. Now, I use my mother’s phone only when needed. Internet access is very expensive and weak, but it’s my only connection to the outside world.

My Greatest Fear Is Not the Bombs — It's Hunger

I no longer fear death by airstrikes — I fear dying of hunger.

We’ve woken up many times to the sound of explosions, but going to sleep hungry and waking up to see your little siblings crying from hunger — that’s a slow, silent death. That’s the real terror.

Why I Started This Campaign

I never thought I would write such a plea to the world — asking for help. But today, we have no other option.

I’m asking anyone with a heart to help me secure the following:

• Food and clean water.

• Hygiene supplies and medicine for my sick father.

•Basic necessities for life in a tent.

• Costs for phone and internet access.

• Transportation costs in case we’re forced to flee again.

• Money transfer and withdrawal fees (which are very high).

I am not asking for pity — I am asking for a chance at life, for me and my family. To preserve what remains of our humanity amid this hell.

Help us survive

If you are able, please donate. And if you can’t, just share this campaign with your friends. Every bit of support — no matter how small — could save our lives.

From my heart, and from my family’s — thank you to anyone who read my words and gave us even a glimmer of hope.

Hope still exists… and you are part of it.

With gratitude and hope,

Abdullah Rizq Al-Majdalawi

A young Palestinian from Gaza