Hi, my name is Lenzi, from in London. I am fundraising on behalf of Fatima from Gaza. Every donation collected here will go directly to Her annd her two children Mira and Kenan, relief the struggle and the conditions they are facing. Your support will help them access food, clean water, shelter, and the basic essentials they need to make it through each day.

This is Her story:

My name is Fatima. I am a mother from Gaza, and this is the first time in my life that I ask strangers for help. I don’t do this easily. I’m doing it because I have two children, Kenan and Mira, who depend on me, and I no longer have anything left to protect them with.

Before the war, our life was simple, but it made sense. I was studying medical laboratory science. Kenan woke up every morning asking if he’d have his favourite snack after school. Mira slept with her dolls lined up beside her. I used to believe that if I worked hard enough, I could build a future for them.

Then, in one day, everything shifted.

On October 7th, we left our home without a plan, without bags, without time to think. I remember locking the door out of habit, even though the door wouldn’t matter anymore. We walked away with nothing but the clothes on our backs and two terrified children holding my hands so tightly their fingers shook.

We didn’t find safety. We found movement. Moving from one place to another, always arriving too late or staying too short. Tents were not a choice, they were the last place left.

A tent is not a home.

In the heat, the air inside feels like it has stopped moving. The smell of dust, sweat, and stored fear stays trapped under the fabric. At night, insects crawl under the blankets. Water arrives late or not at all. Soap is a luxury. Privacy does not exist.

Winter is worse.

Rain soaks everything we own. The cold comes up from the ground and down from the air, and there is nothing between my children and the wind but a sheet of nylon.

Kenan and Mira have lived through things they will remember long after childhood ends. They learned what hunger feels like, not the hunger of skipping a meal, but the hunger that makes you dizzy and slow, the kind that makes a mother choose who eats first.

They used to fight over toys. Now they fight sleep because the night scares them.

People often ask, “What do you need most?”

The honest answer is: something stable. A roof that doesn’t leak. A door that closes. A place where my children can exhale without flinching. Enough food so their bodies stop shrinking. Enough calm so their minds can rest.

I am not looking for comfort. I am looking for a starting point, a way to pull my family out of this place between survival and collapse.

If you choose to help us, you are giving me the ability to stand again as a mother, instead of a woman constantly trying to stop her world from falling apart. You are giving my children the softness they haven’t felt in a long time.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for seeing us.

And thank you for anything you decide to give, even if it is only a moment of your attention.