Help me evacuate, my children and grandchildren

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“My Name is Nibal… and I’m Still Breathing Despite Everything”

My name is Nibal Hilles. I am a mother, a wife, and a woman who is exhausted—but not broken.

My home was destroyed, my body is failing, and my homeland is burning. And yet, I’m still here—fighting silently, holding my children close like they’re the only world I have left.

For months now, we’ve been living in a small tent on the edge of Rafah after the war destroyed our home in northern Gaza. We left with nothing but a few clothes and trembling hearts. My four children sleep on a thin blanket, and I try to cover them every night with what little warmth motherhood can offer.

Before the war, I had my left kidney removed due to chronic illness. Now, my right kidney is failing too—I feel constant pain, exhaustion, and weakness. But there are no doctors here, no medicine, not even a blood test. All I have is patience, and faith that God does not forget anyone.

And my husband... that man who’s been drained by hardship. He fights every single day to protect us and provide what little he can. I’ve seen him run all day, chasing hope. I’ve seen him cry quietly, hiding his tears from our children. He owns nothing now but his heart and his faith—yet he keeps going.

I’m not asking for pity. I’m not begging. I only ask to be seen—as a mother who wants to live with dignity, who wants treatment so she can survive for her children, who wants to save them from fear and misery.

We need to leave Gaza and reach Egypt, where I can receive treatment at Al-Fatimia Hospital. I just want my children to feel safe for once… for even a moment.

But the coordination costs are too high: $5,000 per adult, $2,500 per child.

And we are seven souls trapped in a tent—with no work, no income, nothing but hope.

My children no longer dream. Even dreams have become a luxury we can’t afford.

Please help us—not for comfort, just for a chance at life.

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