<div>Hello! My name is Lilly and I’m from Melbourne, Australia. I’m organising this fundraiser on behalf of my friend from Gaza, Omar Jomaa, in the hope of providing his family with financial support amid the ongoing conflict.


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<div>Omar used to live in two houses in northern Gaza with his family, comprising his parents, three sisters and two brothers. These houses were destroyed by IDF bombing in July and December of 2024. The family were forced to flee south, where they now reside in a tent that provides minimal shelter from the weather.


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<div>Omar’s father Samir was the family’s main source of income, working as a municipal employee repairing broken water lines. On 30 May 2025, Samir tragically passed away at the age of 60 while enroute to hospital after experiencing chest pain. He is survived by his loving wife and their six children.


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<div>Compounding their grief, Omar’s family have had to navigate financial insecurity without Samir’s salary. Through this fundraiser, we hope to ease this burden as best as we can by providing financial support on an ongoing basis. All donations will go towards purchasing food, supplies and other necessities for survival. We hope you will consider supporting Omar and his family, whether by donating or sharing a link to this fundraiser to spread its reach.


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<div><span>If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out via the Contact button below and I will get back to you as soon as possible.</span><br />
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<div>To conclude, here is a clearer description of the family's situation, in Omar's own words:


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<div><em>Our story wasn’t just a series of events…</em>


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<div><em>It was a long, painful stand against a storm that never had mercy.</em>


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<div><em>Despite starvation, despite the heavy bombing, despite the attempts of forced displacement…</em>


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<div><em>we remained standing.</em>


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<div><em>We stayed firm, defending our right to simply live.</em>


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<div><em>Every day, we survived another plan meant to uproot us—almost as if the land itself was holding on to us as tightly as we were holding on to it.</em>


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<div><em>But resilience has a price…</em>


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<div><em>and the price was far too heavy.</em>


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<div><em>The occupation bombed two of our homes.</em>


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<div><em>The first home… was my father’s dream.</em>


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<div><em>My father spent his entire life working and struggling just to build us a house we could finally call “ours.”</em>


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<div><em>A home he poured his soul into—where our memories lived, where our childhood laughter echoed.</em>


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<div><em>And in one single moment…</em>


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<div><em>A moment shorter than a blink…</em>


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<div><em>the house became rubble.</em>


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<div><em>The dream turned into dust mixed with smoke.</em>


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<div><em>They didn’t just bomb stones.</em>


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<div><em>They bombed our memories…</em>


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<div><em>They bombed our spirit…</em>


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<div><em>They destroyed the place that once held our safety, our joy, and our warmth.</em>


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<div><em>After that, we found ourselves homeless, carrying our pain on our backs, moving from one area to another—exhausted, broken, trying to stay on our feet even when the storm was stronger than all of us.</em>


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<div><em>But the hardest part wasn’t the displacement.</em>


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<div><em>Nor the bombing.</em>


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<div><em>Nor the hunger.</em>


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<div><em>The hardest part was my father… slowly dying in front of us from heartbreak.</em>


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<div><em>He tried to hide his pain, but eyes never lie.</em>


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<div><em>He worried about us constantly… about our future… about what had become of us after everything he built was destroyed.</em>


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<div><em>And on 30/5/2025,</em>


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<div><em>my father passed away.</em>


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<div><em>He died from grief… from sorrow… from the weight of thinking about us.</em>


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<div><em>With his death, we lost our support, our strength, the backbone that held our family together.</em>


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<div><em>The occupation didn’t just destroy our home…</em>


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<div><em>It destroyed our family.</em>


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<div><em>After his death, his salary was cut off, and the shop that was our only source of income was also destroyed.</em>


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<div><em>We were left facing life with no father, no home, no work—nothing but patience.</em>


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<div><em>And today… after all this suffering…</em>


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<div><em>we are still living in a tent.</em>


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<div><em>A thin piece of cloth facing the wind, the rain, and the bitter cold.</em>


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<div><em>Every night, we sleep hearing the wind tearing through every corner…</em>


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<div><em>and every morning we wake up knowing it will take a miracle just to get through another day.</em>


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<div><em>Yet despite everything…</em>


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<div><em>we are not weak.</em>


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<div><em>We are children of pain, yes—</em>


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<div><em>but we are also children of dignity.</em>


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<div><em>We ask for help with pride, not out of complaint,</em>


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<div><em>but because this war left us with no other choice.</em>


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<div><em>That’s why I started my campaign—</em>


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<div><em>not for comfort, but for survival.</em>


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<div><em>Your donations can bring back what little life we have left:</em>


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<div><em>They can help us build a small home to shelter us,</em>


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<div><em>and help me provide the basic needs of my family,</em>


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<div><em>so winter stops entering our hearts before our tent.</em>


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<div><em>We are not asking for much…</em>


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<div><em>only for a roof to protect my siblings,</em>


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<div><em>a bit of warmth,</em>


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<div><em>and a hand that supports those who have suffered, but never bowed.</em>


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<div>Thank you for reading.


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<div>Sincerely,


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<div>Omar and Lilly


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Kiyana Conroy

Anonymous

Kytzia Hernandez

Jessica Bernier

Help Omar and his family survive in Gaza

Still $4,045 to go. Help us build momentum.