Help provide food and medicines for Mohammed's family

Imagine this… You’re 17 years old. You have dreams—big ones. You know exactly what you want: to become a doctor, to make a difference, to bring healing and hope to the people around you. You study hard, you plan ahead, and you carry your ambitions like a treasure in your heart.

Now imagine waking up one day and everything is gone.

My name is Mohammed. I’m 17, from Gaza, and this is not just a story. This is my life.

Before the war, my world was full—full of family, love, and dreams. I live in a house with 15 people. We didn’t have much, but we had each other, and we had hope. My parents, my sisters, my nieces and nephews—each day was alive with noise, laughter, and a belief that tomorrow would be better.

Then war came crashing into our lives.

Suddenly, the home that once felt safe was burnt down by the occupation and we got displaced. Two of my sisters lost their husbands to the war—they were martyred. Just like that, six children became orphans. My sisters became widows. And I… I had to become a man overnight.

Can you imagine that? You’re a pampered son, still trying to figure out your own path, and now you’re the one everyone turns to. My father is too old and frail to work. My mother is diabetic and needs care. My sisters are grieving, and all of them are women in a place where life is already so hard. And I am the youngest.

But I am the one who must carry them all.

I wake up every morning with a heavy heart, knowing there are 14 people depending on me—not just for strength, but for survival. And yet, in the quiet moments, I still dare to dream. I have to wear the same shirt everyday because this is the only thing I managed to escape with but I still see myself wearing that white coat, holding someone’s hand in a hospital room, saying, “You’re going to be okay.” Because I know what it’s like to not be okay.

That’s why I’m here, speaking to you now—not just for myself, but for my family. For the children who lost their fathers. For my mother who fights illness. For my father who cannot fight anymore. I’m asking you to help me hold on to my dream—not out of sympathy, but out of shared humanity.

Because maybe, just maybe, if you were in my shoes… You’d want someone to believe in you too.

If you can help in any way, no matter how small, you’re not just changing my life—you’re helping to hold up a family that’s been through more than any family should.

Thank you, from the deepest part of my heart, for reading, for feeling, and for standing with me.

With hope, Mohammed

Fundraiser

Zeynep KARATAS

Beneficiary

Mohammed Nafeth Al-Skafi