My name is Hana. Before the war, my family and I lived in a simple home filled with love, safety, and dreams for the future. We were not rich, but we were happy. My children laughed, went to school, and dreamed like any other children in the world.
When the war came, it took everything from us.
Today, I am a mother of nine children, struggling to keep them alive under conditions no human being should endure. Our home is gone. We now live in a damaged, damp tent that leaks water from above and is soaked from below. At night, we cannot sleep because of the cold, moisture, and rats that crawl beneath and around us. Many nights, I stay awake just to protect my children.
We do not have blankets, proper clothing, or even a water tank. The containers we once had are now destroyed and unusable. Clean water is a daily struggle. Sometimes we burn plastic, old clothes, or even shoes just to make fire for warmth or tea. The smoke chokes me, and even the food and drinks taste polluted—but we have no other choice.
My children ask me for the simplest things:
Warm clothes.
Food.
A blanket.
A safe place to sleep.
And every time, my heart breaks because I have nothing to give.
My eldest son is 17 years old and lives with learning difficulties and bedwetting. He needs medical care and a special school—things I cannot afford. He dreams of being like other young men. He asks me for education, treatment, even a simple mobile phone so he doesn’t feel different or excluded. Sometimes he tells me he wants to get married one day, and I don’t know how to explain that I cannot even afford his basic care.
Three of my daughters suffer from anemia due to severe malnutrition. My youngest daughter is only a year and a half old, with low blood levels and serious nutritional needs. She is weak, still unable to walk properly, and urgently needs supplements, proper food, and medical attention.
As a mother, watching your children grow weaker every day is a pain no words can fully describe.
My situation is made even harder by family circumstances I cannot safely speak about in detail. For my own protection and my children’s safety, I have chosen not to reveal my full name. What I can say is that I am trying—alone—to hold my family together in the middle of unimaginable hardship.
We feel forgotten, marginalized, and invisible. Aid enters Gaza, but we do not see it reach us. Every day feels like survival is a test we are slowly failing.
I am not asking for luxury.
I am asking for a dignified life.
Your support will help us:
Secure food, clean water, and nutrition
Buy blankets, clothes, and warm bedding
Improve or replace our unsafe, wet tent
Provide medical care and education support for my eldest son
Treat anemia and malnutrition among my daughters
Restore a small sense of safety and humanity to my children’s lives
As a mother, my greatest wish is simple:
To see my children sleep without fear.
To see them warm, fed, and hopeful again.
If you are reading this, please know that your help—no matter how small—can change our reality. You are not just donating money; you are giving my children a chance to live with dignity again.
May God reward you for every act of kindness.
Thank you for standing with us.