From the Rubble: A Father’s Final Plea Against Starvation

Somewhere in Gaza- between the rubble of a burnt, ruined house- five souls are living each day on the edge of survival.

No water, no food, no safe shelter… only bombings, ashes, and a heavy, endless wait for even the simplest necessities.

This campaign is my only attempt to claim a voice… to reach people who can make a real difference.

This campaign is not to tell a heroic story or a headline-worthy tragedy.

It's rather to share the daily pain of five souls -known by name and face; people whose blood runs in veins, whose hearts live in agony and growing greave. We once lived dignified lives. I was a teacher of English; my wife, namely Nour, was and is a housewife. My daughter, namely Mariam (Marry) is a 3rd grader. My son, Mo, is a 1st grader. My youngest, Omar, is 3 years old.

Today, their reality is unrecognizable.

My family— a family of 05 souls— has been fighting daily to survive the man-made starvation over the past 4 months. (Each felt like ages)

Every moment is a fight just to survive. Just to survive.

Water, which you take for granted in our daily lives, has become my fiercest battle.

A few drops—if found—are rationed between everyone like they’re saving them for a thirst that never ends.

Food is no longer a meal.

It’s just a few bites, split like treasure, while the children’s stomachs cry out unanswered.

Children don’t play anymore.

They don’t ask about school, or holidays.

They ask:

“Is there bread today?”

“Is there water?”

“Will my father be able to find some food today?”

My wife usually sits in painful silence -- Exhaustion on her face; weight in her heart; waiting for something… She no longer knows what.

Every day we endure is a painful stripping of dignity and of a patience that has long run dry.

A day without enough food, without clean water, without medicine—

is a day that doesn’t resemble life as most people know it.

I’m not asking for the impossible.

I’m only trying to make you hear my voice.

I say this after months of doing everything I can to feed my wife and kids on my own way. But the harsh truth is—I can no longer carry this alone.

Starvation in Gaza has reached unbearable levels.

Prices are unimaginable.

Everything—from bread to water to the most basic necessities—is either unaffordable or simply unavailable.

With the war dragging on, and displacement repeating again and again, the burden has grown far beyond what I can bear.

For months, I never imagined asking for anything.

But when it comes to dying from hunger and thirst, silence is no longer an option.

I had no choice but to launch this campaign.

That’s why I’m here today.

I’m not asking for much—only that you open your hearts and help me stand by my family.

Because my heart can’t bear watching them suffer while I can no longer do enough on my own.

My house was burnt down to ground by an Israeli tank shell.

My kids have one spoon of tahini for breakfast.

Scarce, home-made bread: three peda loaves for 5 people.

My kids draw their wishes on the balcony wall, which is the only wall to survive the burning of my house.