"Surviving Loss in Gaza: Restore My Home, Restore My Life"

My Name is Mahmoud Ashour.

I am writing this through tears, as the memories of what I’ve lost in this brutal war on Gaza claw at my soul. Every word I type feels like a dagger, but I must share my story—because I have nothing left but hope.

I am currently sheltering in a friend’s half-destroyed house in northern Gaza, clinging to life. Food is vanishing. Medicine is nonexistent. Each day is a battle to survive, but survival feels meaningless when everything I loved is gone.

At the war’s start, soldiers forced us at gunpoint to flee our home in Tal al-Hawa. When I returned weeks later, I found only ashes. Our four-story family home—where generations laughed, lived, and dreamed—was burned to rubble. My education project, years of hard work to empower my community, was obliterated. My master’s degree, nearly complete, now lies buried under debris, like my future.

But none of this compares to the unbearable void in my heart. My two brothers, my pillars, were martyred in a single airstrike. My relatives, my dearest friends, and so many of my students—bright young minds filled with promise—are gone. I close my eyes and see their faces. I wake to nightmares, screaming their names into the silence.

I am utterly alone. No home. No family. No medicine to treat my worsening illnesses. No food but scraps. No way to grieve, rebuild, or even breathe without fear.

I beg you—do not let my story end here.

I am not asking for pity. I am pleading for a lifeline. Your kindness can save me from starvation, illness, and despair. With your support, I might one day rebuild my life, honor my brothers’ memories, and give my students the future they deserved.

Every second counts. I am trapped in a nightmare with no end.

Please, help me survive this war.