Help Save My family In Gaza

I came to Dublin to help people, but I can’t help my own family…

On the 3rd of September, I boarded my first flight ever, heading to Dublin, the flight of my dreams, that’s what I used to call it. I have worked so hard to pursue my master’s in public health to help and make this a better world. Everything was too surreal to believe, I was content, grateful, and happy. Three weeks into Ireland, on the 7th of October of 2023, 8:00 am. Saturday morning, I received the call that turned my world upside down. “Walaa, it is happening again. My heart is racing, this is not going to end well.” Mama.

You leave Gaza, but Gaza never leaves you; this is a saying I have been hearing my entire life, I never felt it would be true until I actually lived it. Just like any other family, we survived a lot together and had our happy moments and sad ones, but unlike any other, we also lived through wars and truces. I wish I hugged each one of them harder; I wish I had taken more photos and looked at them again and again. My family is currently living their 172nd day of war, of genocide, livestreamed on TV in the twentieth century.

The girl you are seeing in the campaign photo is my sister Reema, she is - 6 wars–old, the apple of my eye and the joy of the family. I miss her so much it hurts that I can’t hug her while trembling from fear, help her unhear the bombings or unsee the destruction and death scenes she has been through. She should not be in such terror, living on canned food, having multiple episodes of gastroenteritis in one month or wishing for candy, as is the case for all children in Gaza. They moved seven times so far from the north to multiple locations in the south with nothing but their IDs, from living in tents to warehouses without basic life necessities, cooking gas, water, food, electricity or proper sanitary products. Each time they are running for their lives looking for safety, but there is none, absolutely none...

Every time we say it is almost over, it gets worse by the minute. I have been patient for over 170 days until now, but I can’t anymore. Even the security council couldn’t stop the killing machine. Having to write this is hard on its own and to reach the point of no return, after we have worked so hard to get to where we are now, feels so dreadful and miserable. I resent this cruel world so much, but I still do have faith in its people, its free people.

Every time I talk to my mom, she asks me, mocking, is there by any chance or miracle our names could be on the evacuation list for tomorrow? And I laugh in context, but inside I’m burning because of how hypocritical and capitalistic this world has turned out to be. Yes, we know you have survived genocide, so far, and lost everything, but also, we need you to pay 5000 dollars to just cross a border to Egypt and start from scratch again or else you will stay in the biggest unsanctioned crime scene in the world, Gaza, counting the days for your end.

Because of poor connections and the internet, I follow their news on social media channels, alone in my dorm room, shaking every time I open the telegram channel to read the latest updates, fearing that I might read their names while scrolling. This is a whole other level of terror. I have been working so hard but I’m too emotionally connected to function anymore. I need to get them out as soon as possible.

These are the photos of my family, Mama Iktemal, Baba Hatem, My siblings, Wafaa, Salim, Eman, Mohammed, Hashem, Reema and Ahmed... Yes, we are a big family of hardworking and aspiring minds, with not a single moment of calm which I cherish now more than ever and hopefully will be restored. This genocide has taken our house, and our achievements, and hopefully will not take their dreams or the rest of their lives.

My brother Salim is a brilliant software engineer who has been working since the first year of his studies. He graduated, and we truly anticipated a great future for him. But, how can one coding engineer lose his future so fast? A shrapnel cut through all of his left-hand tendons by an Israeli missile near our house. The main hospital said his injury was not life-threatening, so they discharged him without doing anything, with the shrapnel still in his hand because moving it even a bit would risk amputating. The number of casualties they deal with has made the non-life-threatening cases, elective. He left with his hand swollen, in severe pain and unable to move it. 24 hours later, my father miraculously found a doctor to operate on him in another hospital. He underwent two surgical operations, and the doctor was able to fix it for the time being. He will need further treatment to restore function and every day that goes by, the probability decreases. The irony is that we now say he has been lucky enough to have been injured the first weeks of war or else, he would have gone through the surgeries without anaesthesia, or it would have been amputated immediately as a preventive measure to not risk further infection or his life.

My sister Wafaa is a very promising English teacher who used to love her work and students. My sister Eman is in her fourth year of engineering, and my brother Mohammed paid the tuition for his first year of college but never got the chance to start, he was so excited. Everything is on pause now. My parents carry the biggest burden, mountains on their shoulders and I have to help them! We have lost our sources of income and everything we have.

Our lovely home, before and after:

My lovely sister's room, Eman and so is the case for the rest of the home, but these are the only photos we received from people still in the north around two months ago, and God knows how the state is now! It's considered unlivable...

And I still can’t believe that they are practising Ramadan, our holy month of fasting, in the worst circumstances ever. It should have been the month of mercy, worship and gatherings, the month of help and aid, but it's none like that.

Here is the breakdown of the requested funds:

48000 - will be evacuation fees for my family through the Egypt-Rafah crossing border.

6000 - for my brother Salim's hand operation

the rest will be the website commission and living support for my family in Egypt ( rent and living expenses).

Life is all about giving. By helping me and my family now, you are being a part of the new chapter of the future change this world needs. The best change-makers are the ones who experience the worst.

Thank you.

Your survivor’s guilt speaking,

Walaa AlAbssi