My name is Said Alchear. I am a husband to my extraordinary wife, Donia, and the father of four beautiful children: Muhamad, Kenzi, Jihad, and Sanad.

The ongoing genocide in Gaza has torn our lives apart. My eldest son, Muhamad, lives with a rare and chronic medical condition. In December 2024, on his 10th birthday, he and I were evacuated from Gaza to Belgium—because staying would have meant his death.

This was not a choice any parent should ever have to make. We had already been separated from the rest of our family for six months before our evacuation. The siege had cut the north of Gaza off from the south, and Muhamad and I were stranded. For half a year, we lived without a home—on the street, on the beach, and in a tiny, makeshift tent. We endured freezing rain and brutal heat, with barely any food or money. Muhamad was in and out of overstretched hospitals, where the doctors did everything they could—but Gaza’s destroyed medical infrastructure left them powerless to treat him fully. They fought to keep him alive long enough for us to evacuate.

I had to make the most painful decision of my life. If I hadn’t taken Muhamad south alone, he wouldn’t have survived. If I hadn’t evacuated when I did, he wouldn’t be alive today. I chose to save his life—but it meant leaving the rest of my heart behind.

My wife and our three other children remain trapped in northern Gaza. When I left, my youngest son was only one month old. I’ve missed his entire first year. Every day, they face hunger, thirst, homelessness, and constant danger. Every day, I fear I’ll never see them again.

I’m currently in Belgium, waiting for my asylum status to be approved. Only then can I begin the family reunification process. But the bureaucracy is slow and complex. Meanwhile, my family is running out of time.

While I work to bring my family to safety, they are struggling to survive. Your donations will go directly toward supporting them with food, water, shelter, and basic needs. Every contribution helps.

This is a call for humanity, for compassion, for solidarity. Please, help my family survive in Gaza and bring them to safety. Help us rebuild.

From the bottom of my heart—thank you.

May God bless you.