Writing

A Quiet Cry for Help — From Someone Who Never Thought She Would Ask

My name is Shaima. I have always tried to be strong, to carry my responsibilities quietly, and to support others when they needed me. Today, I find myself in a place where I can no longer carry everything alone.

I am originally from Yemen. In 2012, I was given a life-changing opportunity to come to the United States on a Fulbright scholarship. It was a time full of hope. I believed I would return home and build a meaningful, stable life.

But when I returned in 2013, my country was no longer the same. War had taken over. My family struggled deeply, and my father was injured by a ricochet bullet. Like many others, we were trying to survive day by day.

For years, I searched for a way to live in safety and dignity. Eventually, I moved to Ethiopia after getting married, believing that together, my husband and I could begin again.

We were not looking for luxury—only a simple, stable life.

My husband started a small car business. He worked hard, not only to support us, but always trying to help others from his community find opportunities as well. I also worked and did everything I could to support both our future and my family back home.

We were the people others relied on.

Today… we are the ones in need.

The business we depended on has collapsed due to circumstances beyond our control. The cars my husband invested in are stuck at the Djibouti border, and the storage fees increase every day. The debt is growing, and he now faces the very real risk of imprisonment.

We have sold everything we own just to keep going. Furniture, belongings—everything. There are days when even a simple meal feels uncertain.

The pressure has become overwhelming. My husband is struggling with serious health issues, including severe back pain and high blood pressure, and he can no longer work the way he used to. At the same time, people are demanding repayment, and he is living in constant fear.

I am doing everything I can to carry this weight, but it is becoming too heavy. I receive constant calls reminding me of the money we owe. The words are often harsh. I have started to fear every phone call, every message, even every knock on the door.

Some days, I hesitate to step outside unless it is absolutely necessary.

My family has asked me to return to Yemen, but I cannot. It would mean going back to war—and it would also mean leaving my husband alone in a situation where he is already vulnerable.

This is no longer just a financial struggle. It is fear, pressure, illness—and the feeling of a life slowly falling apart.

I never imagined I would have to ask for help like this. It is not easy for me to write these words.

But today, I am asking.

Any support, no matter how small, can help us:

• Afford basic daily food

• Reduce part of the overwhelming debt

• Stay safe and avoid further consequences

• Hold on to some stability and dignity

If you are unable to donate, sharing this message would mean so much to me.

We once stood on our own and tried to help others stand too. Today, I am simply asking for a chance for us to stand again.

Thank you for reading my story.