I am Karam Muhammad, from Beit Hanoun, in a thin plastic tent that is now the only 'home' left for my family.

We escaped the bombing, thinking we had survived. But now, we are facing a slower, colder enemy: The Winter of Gaza.

Imagine trying to sleep while the freezing wind tears at your plastic walls. Imagine looking into your children's eyes and seeing the reflection of hunger, while you have nothing to offer them but a piece of dry bread.

The world has moved on, and we feel abandoned in the mud and the dark. We are not just statistics; we are souls that are shivering from cold and broken by betrayal. Every night, the rain floods our tent, and every morning, we wake up wondering if this is our last day.

I never thought I would be asking for help like this, but my pride has been crushed by my children's cries. We need food, clean water, and warm blankets to survive these brutal months.

Your donation is not just money; it is a warm meal, a heavy blanket, and a message to us that we are not alone.