Assalamu alaikum / Hello,

My name is Omar Zayn Al-Farouq, and right now my heart feels heavy with a mix of gratitude and fear. As a Muslim international student, I fought tooth and nail to earn my place in the Bachelor of Medicine, Bachelor of Surgery (MBChB) program at the University of Birmingham one of the most competitive medical schools in the UK. Getting accepted felt like a miracle after endless nights of study, rigorous exams, the UCAT test, interviews, and proving myself against thousands of applicants. I am now in my second year, pouring every ounce of energy into becoming a doctor who can heal, comfort, and serve values deeply rooted in my faith.

Growing up, my family sacrificed everything so I could dream bigger than our circumstances allowed. My parents worked tirelessly, often skipping their own needs, to give me a chance at education. As the first in my family to pursue higher education abroad, especially in medicine, the weight of their hopes rests on my shoulders. I pray five times a day, seeking strength from Allah to honor them and give back to the world perhaps one day treating patients in communities that look like mine, where access to compassionate care is limited. Medicine isn’t just a career for me; it’s a calling to embody mercy and justice, inspired by the teachings of our Prophet.

But the reality is heartbreaking. As an international student, I receive no government loans, no grants, no maintenance support unlike UK students. Tuition alone for international MBChB students starts around £31,000–£31,390 per year in the pre-clinical phase (Years 1–2), with fees rising sharply in clinical years. Living costs in Birmingham add I’ve managed so far through sheer determination part-time work within visa limits, every penny saved but an unexpected gap has opened: £5,000 for this year’s remaining tuition.

The fear keeps me awake: What if I have to pause my studies? What if I let my family down after all their prayers and sacrifices? The thought of walking away from patients I could help, from the dream I’ve chased since childhood, brings tears. It’s not just about money it’s the crushing worry that years of hardship, late nights memorizing anatomy while fasting during Ramadan, and pushing through cultural adjustments could end in “almost.”

Every donation will go directly to university tuition payments and essential living costs—no detours. Closing this gap means I can continue, graduate, and become the doctor my community needs. Imagine the ripple: one healed life leading to many more, in sha’ Allah.

I never wanted to ask for help it feels vulnerable but faith teaches us that community lifts each other. Even £5, £10, or sharing this link could be the dua answered that keeps my dream alive. Thank you from the depths of my heart for reading, for caring, and for any support you can give. I’ll post anonymous updates on progress exam results, milestones, gratitude notes to show how your kindness changes everything.

JazakAllah khair / With deepest thanks,