Help Me Get My Friend's Family out of Gaza

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Steve Tamari and Liz Simakoff are organizing this fundraiser.

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Help Me Get My Friend's Family out of Gaza

My name is Steve Tamari and I am a Palestinian-American Professor of History at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville. Throughout my career, my family and I have hosted Fulbright and other international scholars from the Middle East and facilitated their transition to life in the Midwest.

This year we were fortunate to get to know Dr. Intimaa AbuHelou, a dentist and a Fulbright scholar from Gaza working on a graduate degree in Public Health at St. Louis University. Here is an article about her from the St Louis Post-Dispatch

We are raising $100,700 to help Dr. AbuHelou get her remaining family members out of Gaza. It costs $6,500.00 per adult and $1,800.00 per child to cross Rafah into Egypt. Twenty-two family members (thirteen adults and nine children) fear for their lives each passing day.

Intimaa AbuHelou’s Story in Her Own Words

We are a Palestinian family, deeply rooted in Gaza since our displacement in 1948. Our lives have been intertwined with the services of UNRWA (United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian Refugees), which provided our education and health care. My parents, dedicated UNRWA teachers for four decades, built our family home from scratch in Gaza. This home, a symbol of resilience, withstood partial destruction in 2009 and 2014 but was completely bombed at the start of the recent war. It was not just a structure; it was where our most cherished and painful memories resided. However, since the war's onset, it has become a symbol of relentless fear and loss.

Our family, once tightly knit under one roof, has been torn apart by relentless bombings and displacements. In the latest tragedy, we lost our beloved grandmother, and two of my brothers along with their wives and children, leaving an indelible scar on our hearts. My father, amidst his own grief, had to perform the heart-wrenching task of burying them. Our reality in Gaza is a constant reminder that life hangs by a thread, with no place truly safe.

Let me introduce you to my family, each member a testament to the dreams and aspirations we hold, yet stifled by the circumstances we are in:

My Parents (64 years): Esteemed retired teachers who have educated generations and emphasized the value of education in our lives.

Mohammed (35 years), his wife Fatima (33), and their children: Siba (6 years), Salama (1.5 years), Adam (1 month).

Mohammed, a business graduate, and Fatima, a mathematics degree holder, recently welcomed their newborn amidst the chaos. Fatima underwent a cesarean section without anesthesia. The baby was born in the street, never received any vaccinations, and wasn't legally named or issued a birth certificate. Their daughter Siba innocently wondered if our house could be carried with us as we fled, not understanding why we had to leave our safe haven.

Mahmoud (29 years), his wife Alaa (34), and their children: Ahmed (9 years), Elia (7 years), Sila (5 years), Jawad (7 months). Mahmoud, a health administration graduate, and Alaa, a master's in Arabic, are parents to Ahmed, who aspires to be a doctor after witnessing the suffering around him. Elia and Sila play a poignant game with cola cans, burying them in the sand. If they uncover an intact can, they say it represents a martyr. A damaged can signifies a martyr in pieces. The size of the can also plays a role in their game: a small can symbolizes a child, while a large one represents an adult. This stark contrast underscores the vastly different realities children face in other parts of the world, where their games are filled with innocence and joy, untouched by the shadows of war.

Doaa (34 years), her husband Hatem (35), and their children: Bader (7 years) and Fadwa (4 years). Displaced from their own bombed home, they joined us. Bader is haunted by leaving his puppy behind, while Fadwa faces nightly fears about death and survival.

Maryam (33 years): A dedicated ER pediatric doctor at Al-Aqsa Hospital, who has witnessed unspeakable horrors and carries the trauma of treating young, innocent victims of this conflict. She shared that the haunting images of injured children she treated will forever remain etched in her memory. One of the most harrowing experiences was having to amputate the limbs of children without anesthesia. The echoes of their screams haunt her every night, a relentless trauma from which she believes she will never fully recover.

Moatz and Montsar (26 years): Moatz, a pharmacist, has been on the frontlines providing medical aid, while Montsar, a lawyer, grapples with the blatant disregard for international law he once studied.

Mohaned (21 years): A senior in animal engineering, who cares deeply for all living beings caught in this conflict.

Hend (19 years): A medical student whose dreams and aspirations have been shattered along with her university.

This is my family, each with their dreams and aspirations, now overshadowed by the ever-present threat of losing one another. We are more than statistics; we are human beings deserving of a safe home, access to necessities, and a life free from the shadow of war.

Your help can make a significant difference in our lives, offering us a chance at safety and a future. Please help us evacuate Gaza and find refuge away from the relentless danger we face every day.

A cherished memory of my dad, brother, and our beloved grandmother, whose beautiful soul was tragically taken from us.

A proud day was captured as my parents registered my sister, Hend, at Al-Azhar University's medical school, where she began her journey to fulfill her dream of becoming a doctor. This cherished memory is now tinged with sorrow, as the university was destroyed, taking with it the dreams and aspirations of many young minds.