My name is Hamza Ibrahim. Five months ago, I left my family in Gaza to pursue a Master’s degree in journalism on a full scholarship and to build a future shaped by storytelling. While I have escaped the death, bombing, and destruction that plague Gaza, my family remain there, struggling to survive. Despite the “ceasefire,” the sound of shelling still punctuates moments of calm, stealing their sense of safety and peace. After two years of constant bombardment, during which we lost almost everything and were forced to move multiple times, my family has exhausted their savings, has no income (there are no jobs in Gaza), and must now rely on humanitarian aid and the kindness of others to survive. Please give what you can to help them survive and rebuild their lives.

Before the war: me with my orphaned cousin in our home, where love and family still lived.

Before everything collapsed, my family lived a simple but dignified life. Our home was modest, but it was warm in the winter. It was full of routine, shared meals, laughter, and quiet dreams. We believed in education, stability, and the promise of tomorrow.

Nothing is the same now.

Our home has been damaged, and our neighbourhood is now barely recognisable. My family has been displaced and forced to live in unsafe conditions. At the moment, they are all staying in a single, completely empty room. It has only four bare walls — no insulation, no proper doors or windows, no beds, and no furniture of any kind. They sleep on the floor. They have nowhere to store their clothes, so what little they have is kept on the ground. When it rains, water seeps inside and their clothes become wet. They do not have enough clothing to change into, especially not warm clothes suitable for winter.

At night, the cold settles deep into their bodies. During rainy days, dampness fills the room, making it even harder to stay warm or dry. There is no real shelter from the elements, only exposure and endurance. Finding a livable place has become incredibly difficult and painfully expensive. Even the most basic, modest room that offers warmth and protection is far beyond what we can manage alone.

Being far away while my family lives like this is one of the hardest things I have ever faced. Every day, I worry not only about their safety, but about the cold, the rain, and the simple human need for dignity and rest.

Your support will make a big difference.

Many families are trying to return to their homes, even if they have been damaged or partially destroyed. For people who have endured trauma, returning “home”—even if nothing is left of it but rubble—restores a sense of dignity, identity, and belonging. My family is trying to do the same.

They are living in Nuseirat camp with little protection from Gaza’s cold, wet winter. With very limited aid entering Gaza, especially in the past two months, they spend hours each day searching for food and clean water. Much of the canned aid is expired, while market prices are unaffordable.

They have also been searching for a small apartment that can offer basic warmth and safety. Because rents for livable spaces have skyrocketed, even a simple apartment is out of their reach. Such apartments now cost around $1000 per month—far beyond what they can manage—especially since they also need to buy food, clothing, and heat.

Your support will help them: (will distribute monthly)

- Rent a modest place that is warm in the winter and where they can live with dignity. They need a safe place they can call home without worrying about being displaced or exposed to the elements.

- Buy winter essentials, such as warm clothing, blankets, and basic heating needs.

- Buy food and other daily necessities.

- Buy medicine and clean water.

- Find the stability they need to recover

My family is my heart, my strength, and the reason I keep going every day.

My family members:

My mother (55) is the soul of our family. She carries so much pain and worry, yet she still tries to protect everyone with her love. Even in the hardest moments, she puts her children first, hiding her fear so we can feel safe.

My father (55) is a quiet pillar of strength. He has lost so much, yet he never stops trying to hold the family together. He is currently receiving treatment in the hospital after suffering an injury to his leg when our home was shelled and he was nearby at the time.

Noor (26) is my older sister. She is kind, patient, and always carries the weight of the family with quiet strength. Even in the hardest times, she tries to stay hopeful.

Diaa (21) is my brother. He is responsible beyond his years and always thinking about how to protect and support everyone around him.

Oday (16) is my younger brother. He should be worrying about school and friends, but instead he has grown up too fast because of war and displacement.

In addition to my siblings, we also have four orphaned children living with our family. They have already lost so much in their young lives. My family has taken them in not because we have enough, but because we cannot turn away from children who need care and love. They are now part of us, and we do everything we can to make them feel safe, even when we ourselves are struggling.

Diaa Ibrahim (12) has a gentle soul and a quiet depth that reflects a child who has seen too much, too soon.

Baha Ibrahim (11) carries endless questions in his eyes, trying to understand a world that has shown him cruelty instead of care.

Taj Ibrahim (10) is tender-hearted and creative, holding onto small sparks of beauty as a way to survive the pain around him.

Kareem Ibrahim (7), the youngest, is still innocent and playful, yet even he feels the weight of fear, a child trying to grow in a world that keeps shaking beneath his feet.

It is difficult for me to be away from my family

I speak with my family every day. They tell me about the cold nights, the rain leaking inside, and the fear that comes with every unfamiliar sound. I am doing everything I can do to help them—but I can’t do it alone. Any contribution you can make, no matter the size, will make a real difference in their lives. Even if you are unable to donate at the moment, please help by sharing this campaign with everyone you know and by posting it on social media. Do whatever you can to help. Every act of kindness brings my family warmth, safety, and hope. Thank you for standing with us as we rebuild our life.

With deep gratitude,

Hamza Ibrahim