From dreams to ruins: help my family survive

Hello, I am Amira Ahmed Al-Astal, the only daughter of the pharmacist Ahmed Youssef, a graduate of Iași University, Romania, and his elegant wife Wafa Abdel Rahim. I am married to Muhammad Atef, the love of my life, with whom I have given birth to the most beautiful daughters. The eldest, Wafaa is 5 years old, named after my mother, from my husband’s profound love for her, and the youngest, Masa, is 4 years old.

After much hesitation, I’ve decided today to share my story, which is one of the thousands of heartbreaking stories in the Gaza Strip, to help reunite my family and rebuild our lives. It is an honor for a person to walk in paths that he does not want, but this is genocide...

I never imagined in my life that I would launch a donation campaign for my mother and father’s house and their lives, as well as for my house and my life... our life full of happiness and warmth, and my family’s house, which took us many years of hard work and struggle. I lived with my mother and father in one room in my grandfather’s house for more than 12 years, and after that we were able to settle in a separate house, which I need to pay in installments from my father’s salary for 7 years. This house is the harvest. Life...the house of dreams, memories, laughter and delicious food, my father’s home garden with a large tree of distinctive oranges and a peach tree from which we fed the neighbors every year with great joy.

My mother was creative in preparing the most delicious sweet and salty recipes, and she had an aesthetic touch in everything. She would never set her eyes on anything without turning it into paradise. My mother still kept my toys and clothes from when I was a little girl in the cradle, and she used to tell me that when I got married, she would give them to my children. Every corner of the house means a lot to my mother and father. Pictures on all the walls of the house, elegant antiques, vases, flowers, and everything that a person loves to have in his home.

Last summer I decided to travel with my mother and daughters to Jordan, and after intense hesitation for days, my husband finally agreed to the trip. He is very attached to girls and hates the idea of being away from them for a long period of time. Yes, I was living my life like a princess and getting all the love and support from my parents, never refusing me any request, but never have I found anyone who was as attached to his children as my husband, and in the face of my strong desire to travel, he agreed. I have always been passionate about traveling and seeing the world outside Gaza.

On September 18, we left Gaza for Jordan with my mother and my daughters, Wafaa and Masa, to visit my mother’s family residing there. The duration of the trip was supposed to be only a month and a half... And suddenly we found ourselves on an endless trip, a trip that we did not expect... And we did not know that it would be the last time that we would see our homes how we knew it, in its beautiful appearance... I had recently painted the salon white... I was constantly going to buy the most beautiful antiques, and when I finished, I wanted everyone to visit and see the final result. I never had the opportunity to create any of these memories. I am obsessed with details and I used to keep everything, even the flowers that were given to me. I would dry them and keep them. My mother also paid attention to the smallest aesthetic details, and I inherited that interest from her.

On October 7, life was turned upside down. I began a journey of escaping death and trying to provide the minimum requirements of life. My father moved a lot from one place to another. Days at relatives’ homes, days at Nasser Hospital, days at a gas station, and now in tents.

The situation was not much different for my husband, as he stayed in our house for a period of time before I woke up on one of the nights that I will never forget, that tragic date of 11/4, when communications and the Internet were cut off from Gaza, and there was insane bombing near my house. After midnight, I felt shocked and terrified when I saw pictures of my husband among the injured on the news channels... I will never forget the horror of that time, and how many hours passed without knowing what happened to him or the type of injury he suffered. The breaking of my heart as the hours passed seemed like years, and after many hours I was reassured that he had recovered, but my heart broke when I found out our house was hit and parts of the house fell on him and could have caused his death, and although he miraculously survived, he still suffers from its effects to this day.

The following morning I found out that we had lost our house, that it had burned down from the air strike. The fire consumed my heart before it consumed my home, my memories, my details, my life, the beginning of everything... moments of joy and even sadness... our laughter and crying... and my waiting every day to hear the sound of my husband's key in the door. I waited for him many times on the stairs and balconies.

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The journey of his suffering began and he moves from one place to another to escape death, in addition to his health suffering due to the house falling on him. He is still suffering, but in more difficult conditions inside the tents as he did not receive the necessary medical care.

Since that time, we haven’t had a single minute of peace or reassurance... We do not know rest or sleep... We are terrified all the time and cry…This genocide is unimaginable. We do not come out of one shock until we enter another... After a while, my father learned from a neighbor that our house had been demolished. With this news, we all fell into the well of darkness that descended on the lives of my father and mother... with their loss of the house and all of their valuable possessions... The last time my father left, he only took a few clothes with him... Even his official papers and university certificates remained at home. He did not know that when he left the house, this would be the last time he would see it... They stole from us the past, the present, all our identity, the harvest of a lifetime, and years of hard work. They also destroyed my husband's livelihood, as he worked in the car trade, and most of those cars were destroyed.

My mother was dreaming of the day she returned home, and my father was also dreaming of the moment he would return to his home after all those months of misery, death, moving, and a humiliating life... He dreamed of returning to his warm bed and to my mother’s delicious food. And to practice his daily hobby, which is reading the newspaper. Then caring for our garden and the orange and a peach trees.

We had to leave Jordan, and now we are in Egypt, living in an endless cycle of questions, fear, anxiety, and an unknown future with no option for income. We are waiting to meet my father and husband, who live in the most dangerous place on earth, Gaza... I escape from my daughters’ tears with great helplessness and from constantly asking about their father... One day in Ramadan, Wafaa refused to eat, and when I asked her why, she told me that her father did not have delicious food because of the siege, so we stood in solidarity with him. She didn't want to eat. As for Masa, her biggest dream is to embrace her father and sleep in his arms. I've never met a child who was as excited about going to nursery as she was, and this was her first year. She was very happy to finally be attending school like her big sister, but she was deprived of her right to education because of this cruel and cursed occupation, and she was also deprived of her toys and clothes.

Wafaa and Masa were prevented from hugging their father and sleeping safely near him.

I avoid going out with them sometimes so that I don't see the sadness in their eyes when they see the children with their parents and then they come home crying.

Therefore, I am working in this campaign and with your donations to evacuate my husband and father from Gaza, who are living in tents under very bad conditions, especially with my husband being injured.

Your contribution, whatever it may be, will push us towards our goal... and will re-draw a smile on the lips of Wafaa and Masa… my husband will return to the arms of my daughters... and my mother and father will meet again.

We begin the journey of a new, safer and more stable life.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart... Amira

Note: this fundraiser is for Ahmed and Wafa's family (@wafa_abd_alrrahim & @amiraahmed1998) but is managed by Basheq Tarifi (@btarifi10). Please reach out if you have any questions.