Save Our Family from the Horrors of War in Gaza – A Painfu

My name is Husam Mohammed. I am a father of six children and husband to a strong, resilient woman named Wesam. Our family consists of Mahmoud (20 years old), Nesma (19 years old), Eyad (16 years old), Sally (15 years old), Alin (6 years old), and Misk (5 years old). We used to live in a modest home in northern Gaza, a place filled with memories of my childhood and the early years of my children, Mahmoud and Nesma. But everything was destroyed in an instant—our home, our neighborhood, and our memories—all turned into rubble.

When the heavy bombardment began in our area, we had no time to gather anything. My wife and I carried our children and fled, searching for safety. We walked through rubble and streets filled with lifeless bodies, witnessing unimaginable scenes. Little Alin cried incessantly, asking, “Where is our house, Dad?” while Misk, just five years old, clung tightly to my hand, trembling with fear.

After a long, harrowing journey, we reached the Israeli checkpoint at Netzarim. From there, we made our way to Khan Younis, where we sought refuge in an UNRWA school in Bani Suheila. We stayed there for about three months, struggling to survive under incredibly harsh conditions.

Our suffering didn’t stop there. When the Israeli army entered Khan Younis, we were forced to flee again—this time to the Mawasi area of Khan Younis, where we took refuge at Al-Aqsa University. We lived in a sports hall covered with flimsy sheets of zinc for nearly two months.

One night, the Israeli army suddenly entered the university without warning. Fear engulfed us, especially for Alin and Misk, who couldn’t stop crying. The air was filled with the sound of warplanes overhead, and then gunfire rained down on the hall. A shell struck, killing five people right before our eyes—two small children, a woman, and her daughter. We were terrified and had nowhere to go. We hid in the basement of the sports hall until dawn, praying to survive the night.

After that horrifying night, we fled to Rafah, where we spent Ramadan in a tiny shed measuring just 4x4 meters. It had no bathroom or basic facilities. My children kept asking me, *“How long will we live like this?”* and I had no answers to give them.

Today, after all these displacements and endless suffering, we are living in a tent at Al-Aqsa University. Life here is unimaginable—there’s no clean water, no adequate food, and no safety. We carry heavy water containers over long distances and struggle to afford flour, which costs more than $200—a price far beyond our reach.

This has been our life since we lost our home—a long journey of pain, fear, and deprivation. My children need safety, a dignified life, and a better future. We desperately need your support to help us escape this nightmare and start a new life filled with hope.

From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you for your kindness and support. You are the hope we need to begin again.

"Alin, Misk, and their siblings look to us every day, asking for a better tomorrow. We believe that the kindness in your hearts can grant them that future."