Who am I? And who are we? 

Hello friends, Thank you for stopping here, for choosing to give us a moment of your time, and a piece of your heart. 

I’m Jessica, and today I’m not just sharing words—I’m carrying a voice from the heart of Gaza, the voice of my dear friend Ashraf Fawzan Saleh, whom I first met online in the spring of 2024. Since that day, we have spoken almost every single day, and through every message, picture, and story, I have seen Gaza through Ashraf’s eyes… and felt his pain as if it were my own.

 Even in 2024, life in Gaza was suffocatingly hard, but since March 2025, hardship has turned into near impossibility. Long days pass without food, and if there is any, it’s barely enough for one person—yet Ashraf stands in the middle of this storm, responsible for feeding seven other members of his family. They are eight lives in total, fighting both hunger and fear. 

 Your donations are not just money—they are the bread that breaks their hunger, the medicine that saves their sick, the drop of hope that keeps them alive. Even sharing this campaign is an act of saving lives. ⸻ 

 Ashraf’s Story 

I am Ashraf, a Palestinian from Gaza. I live with my mother and father, my two sisters Randa and Rima, and my three brothers Hamada, Aboud (who has a hearing disability), and Joud. I graduated from law school, but my love for truth led me to journalism—to be an eye that shows reality as it is, and a voice that tells the stories the world refuses to hear. 

 Before the war, we lived a simple life despite the siege. My father ran a small workshop, but the war left nothing behind: the workshop was destroyed, our home was bombed, and we were displaced more than six times, fleeing death. 

 A few weeks ago, after we were allowed to return from southern Gaza, I went back to my destroyed home, trying to hold on to what was left. But the bombing came back faster than our dreams, and we received military orders to evacuate immediately. I left once more, carrying my elderly mother in my arms, leaving behind shattered walls and torn memories. In my siblings’ eyes, I saw fear, hunger, and despair. Today, we live in a worn-out tent, with no roof to protect us from rain or sun, no enough food, and no medicine. ⸻ 

 

Why am I writing to you? 

Because we are eight people fighting for survival, day after day. Your help is not charity—it is a lifeline. It is a chance to escape the death surrounding us and to cross through the Rafah border into Egypt, where we could live in safety, away from bombing and deprivation. 

 Your donation means you see us as souls, not statistics; as stories, not headlines; as small dreams worthy of growing. 

 ⸻ 

 Time is running out In Gaza, every day of delay could mean losing someone I love. The bombing continues, hunger grows, and sickness spreads. We have lost everything… but not hope. You are our last hope. 

 Donate, share, raise our voice… perhaps your action today will be the reason we wake up alive tomorrow. 

 

— Jessica & Ashraf