Help Saja and Her Children Survive After Losing Their Father

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My name is Saja Abu Al-Rus, the wife of the martyr, journalist Sari Mansour.

I want to tell you a little about my life. I am a young woman in the prime of my life. I studied journalism and media. I met Sari through our studies together. We got married. Our life was full of hope. Sari was the best lover, husband, and companion. He was my kind friend and my beloved husband. I was his pampered child, his beloved, and his companion.

We have two children: Daniel, who is 4 years old, and Krestel, who is two years old.

Two beautiful children, the fruit of our love and our beautiful years together.

The war came, carrying with it the crime of a merciless enemy. They bombed my house, which was the safe haven of me, my husband, and my children. I lost my life. I lost Sari in a tragic moment that I never imagined would happen to me. Losing Sari made me lose a lot of my life, except that I became a widow and responsible for two children on my own, without Sari, who had a big and clear role in raising his children. He made a great effort to secure their future, but in a few moments, everything was gone, and the most important of them was Sari.

My two little children are growing up without a father after their father was everything to them in their lives. They became orphans and will not say "Baba" anymore. Their situation is like that of many children who have lost their fathers in this war.

Sari was a diligent journalist working for several local and international Arab and foreign agencies, a photographer for several channels, preparing reports, working day and night in the war to convey the image to the whole world of what is happening in Gaza of horrific massacres and the killing of children and women. He was devoted to his work, exposing himself to danger for the sake of the image until he was targeted on 11/18/2023, the first two months of the war. After that, I lived a tragic period alone. I was displaced from my house to other houses, then to a tent that did not protect from the cold or the heat. My daughter was only two months old from the time of his martyrdom until today, she has become two years old. I went through as everyone here went through, but I am a woman alone facing two things: war and famine, and children without a father. We survived imminent death more than 7 times in a barbaric bombing of my places of displacement. I escape with them from fate to fate. I do not know what fate has in store for me.

My daughter was burned due to the siege and the spread of famine, as I was trying to prepare what I found of food for her on the fire and firewood. Some hot oil splashed on her, causing second-degree burns on her face, neck, and body. There is no food, no money, and no treatment for her to recover quickly.

I am trying hard to be like the women of the world. I live in peace, me and my children. I am trying hard to be like any mother in the world who has a home, a family, and a quiet life, but I am fighting the world alone. I stand broken by the loss of my support, my husband, and the father of my children. I stand broken in front of my children in my attempts not to show my brokenness. I just want a decent life for me and my children.