<div>I would like to share the story of my friend Smahan. Today Smahan and her children have been torn from Hashem, beloved husband and father. Whilst Smahan and her children have escaped Gaza, Hashem is still there.
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<div>Today, with this current unprecedented war, loss of life and famine, I am creating this GoFundMe on behalf of my friend Smahan and her family to help her. Hashem spent every penny he had to help get his wife and their three children across the Rafah border from Gaza into Egypt. This saved their lives. Tragically, Hashem was unable to join them. He did not have sufficient funds for himself and the fact that he only had Palestinian nationality, he was unable to get on a humanitarian list to escape the bombing in Gaza. Their separation was heart wrenching but Hashem found solace in the fact that his three small children and his beloved wife were safe. I would like to ask for your help to raise funds that could help him make the crossing, seek legal aid in Egypt, travel to reunite with his wife and children and provide the medical and psychological help his children desperately need to help heal the trauma they have suffered. Gazans are dying daily, through bombing, starvation or sickness. Hashem is one of 2.4 million in this predicament. But there is a way to help this man, who risked his life to save his children and his wife. Please help me save him so that he can be reunited with his wife and his three children, Katia (11yrs), Nabil (5yrs) and Linda (11months).
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<div>This is their story.
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<div>We are a family from Gaza. We lived a happy modest life, despite years of intermittent war, deprivation, and siege. Life in Gaza has always been about survival and making the best of a terrible situation. But we managed that. With the help of international aid agencies, Gazans were able to build schools, hospitals and make homes. Today, things are very different. This war is very different.
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<div>Today, my three children and I find ourselves separated from my husband, their father. Our little family has been torn apart. Like hundreds of thousands of Gazans, we are, indeed, war torn. There is no help. I am left with no choice but to rely on the generosity of strangers in the vain hope that it will reunite my family.
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<div>I would like to tell you my story. I will deliberately remain silent on the political reasons for the war. There is enough information available to learn more about this. This is my story. It is the story of a small family trying to survive the horror of Gaza.
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<div>I am originally from Morocco, and my husband is a Palestinian from Gaza. In 2010, my husband and I embarked on a challenging journey filled with countless emotions, from love and passion to exhaustion and tears. After investing a tremendous amount of effort, resources, and energy, we finally succeeded in moving together to Gaza, my husband’s home. It was a dream come true for us, as we had yearned to be together for a very long time. Our joy knew no bounds when we were blessed with three beautiful children, who brought immense happiness and meaning to our lives.
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<div>For 13 years we have not managed to leave Gaza, even for a holiday, for my parents to meet their grandchildren, or to visit family and friends. It proved too difficult. Every time we packed our bags and attempted to go on a holiday, we faced insurmountable obstacles and complications at the border, as virtually all Gazans prohibited from leaving. The options were limited and with three small children, it was never worth the risk. Every time, upon being turned back, we consoled ourselves in the fact that being together in our home with our happy, healthy children was enough for us and that what mattered most to us was being together.
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<div>For over a decade, I have experienced terrifying aerial bombing and drones overhead and have witnessed first-hand the destruction of homes and lives in their hundreds and thousands. We have been very fortunate in that our home was spared every time. Gaza under siege meant that life was very difficult. Food items were scarce, jobs were few and far between, and essential services like water, electricity, gas and medicines were intermittent at best.
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<div>Nevertheless, I learned the indomitable Gazan way and we made do. Neighbours supported each other and aid agencies provided life-saving essential services.
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<div>But today things are different. This war is different. Now we have lost our warm home, our belongings, our dignity, and our togetherness, and our hope is in tatters.
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<div>Our first child, Katia, is 11 years old. She has always wanted to be a video game programmer. Katia has always been an intelligent, caring child, praised by her teachers, and she has always had good grades. But since this war began, Katia’s personality has changed, especially after the horror she has experienced, running from bombardments, thirsting for water and hungry for food. Being displaced from one region to another, with the constant anxiety that she may not wake up the next day for fear of overnight bombing. We felt powerless and could only hold her tight at night. It was heartbreaking.
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<div>My husband, Hashem, and I were extremely vigilant and cautious about her well-being, especially considering the critical stage of development she was in, being only 11. Despite our best efforts to prevent our children from seeing the disturbing scenes of bloodshed and dead bodies strewn outside, they had to face this fact daily. When ordered to move between shelters, we had to close the children’s eyes on our journey through the rubble, horror and mayhem. We would play a game of ‘Who can close their eyes for the longest?’
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<div>However, on one of several occasions, the horror hit Katia hard. Katia witnessed her best friend and cousin being pulled out of the rubble, seriously injured, with shrapnel and impact injuries caused by an earlier explosion close to their shelter. The bomb had destroyed everything in all directions, hitting her cousin, her dad and her little brother; we had no free hands to close Katia’s eyes. The air seemed to tremble in the aftermath and chaos, as everyone was running in different directions. It felt like the Apocalypse, like we had come to the end.
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<div>We now can't take these images away from her memories, the children wake her up most nights in a panic. We also couldn’t give her a good reason why we couldn't take her cat with us on our journey from north to south Gaza.
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<div>Nabil, our 5-year-old son, was a playful and mischievous child. He was diagnosed with mild delayed speech, and his dad and I tried very hard to help him overcome it. We noticed a remarkable improvement by his fourth birthday, where he went from saying one word at a time to forming complete sentences with clear sounds. His communication skills had improved significantly.
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<div>Unfortunately, today Nabil’s speech has deteriorated, and he has started pointing at things instead of saying them. The only word he manages to say now is ‘papa’. He needs to constantly be holding my hand or his dad’s, as he is severely traumatised by the terror he has experienced.
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<div>Linda, the youngest of the family, is only 11 months old. Throughout her entire two months experience of the sounds of war – the screaming of neighbours and the deafening sound of bombardments – she hadn't left her dad's arms even once, and when she finally came to me for a feed, it felt like a small victory. But that victory was short-lived because the day that broke our family was more powerful than our strength and beyond what we could withstand.
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<div>It was the day when we had to leave without Hashem, my husband and father to my three small children.
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<div>We had to say goodbye at the Rafah border. I and my children have Moroccan nationality, and after some pressure from the international community, some dual nationals have been able to buy their freedom and leave Gaza. My husband Hashem, being Palestinian, was not allowed to leave. So, we took the decision to tear our family apart as a last resort.
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<div>Death is what likely awaits Gazan children if they remain in this tiny space, under constant bombardment and war. Today there is a famine in Gaza, and children are dying of thirst and hunger. It was a painful price to pay, but for the sake of the children’s lives, we had to break our family apart.
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<div>My children and I are now safely back in Morocco. But not a day goes by without us living the experiences of this horrific war. In addition to the trauma the children are now faced with, what truly breaks my heart is the constant tearful demands for their father. The children cry themselves to sleep every night. My daughter Katia asks me, ‘How is my daddy going to survive the bombs?’, and now that famine is prevalent and all over the news, she asks, ‘How will Daddy eat and get water?’
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<div>Their dad was our guardian, protector, comforter, and motivator, as he led us, walking through the broken landscape that is Gaza, evading bombs, scavenging for food and water, and wiping the tears from my children’s faces in the face of the daily horror and misery they witnessed. We are lost without him.
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<div>This deeply personal story is a heartfelt plea to help us reunite our family and get Hashem, my husband and beloved father of our three children, to safety. Hashem’s one-and-only goal was to get the children to safety. He spent all the money he had to try to get us out. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough for all of us, as the fees were very high. That Hashem only has Palestinian nationality also did not help.
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<div>Our family currently faces several challenges. Primarily we need help to raise funds to allow Hashem to buy his way out of Gaza and meet the associated costs of reuniting with us. This includes paying ‘border fees’, travel, and visa/legal costs. The children also need specialist psychological and educational support to help them overcome the trauma they have experienced.
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<div>It is very difficult for me to have to ask strangers for help, but I must do something to help reunite and heal my family. My husband, Hashem, did his part, now I must try to do mine.
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<div>Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Any contribution, however small, will make a difference. My children and I are incredibly grateful for your generosity.
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<div>You can follow or contact them on their social media 
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<div><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@katia_loveu?_t=8pwcyWj9muf&amp;_r=1" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/" target="_blank" class="" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer">https://www.tiktok.com/</a>@katia_loveu?_t=8pwcyWj9muf&amp;_r=1</a>
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<div><a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100083611642245&amp;mibextid=ZbWKwL" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100083611642245&amp;mibextid=ZbWKwL" target="_blank" class="" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer">https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100083611642245&amp;mibextid=ZbWKwL</a></a>
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<div><a href="https://www.instagram.com/hashem.nabil.7?igsh=cXRrc2s1OWdmazBk" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/hashem.nabil.7?utm_source=qr&amp;igsh=cXRrc2s1OWdmazBk" target="_blank" class="" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer">https://www.instagram.com/hashem.nabil.7?utm_source=qr&amp;igsh=cXRrc2s1OWdmazBk</a></a>
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Reunite a Family Torn Apart: A Daughter's Plea from Gaza

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