Gaza's Exodus: From Despair to Determination

My name is Rana Hassanin, a 25-year-old project coordinator from Gaza, a city beleaguered by conflict. I've dedicated myself to project coordination and training, collaborating with esteemed international and local organizations such as UNFPA, SYF, Qatar Connection, and Al-Nayzak. My most recent role was with Palpay Company - Palestine Bank, where I served as a marketing manager, leading promotional campaigns across Gaza's universities. Yet, despite these achievements, all that remains are the echoes of their names, swallowed by the specter of death.

My family's home has been razed three times in past conflicts, each time resurrected with our sweat and blood. It stood as our sanctuary, our haven, our repository of memories. But the oppressor's fury knew no bounds, raining down upon us with incendiary fury. Following our displacement to Al-Zawayda, witnessing the shattered bodies of loved ones strewn amidst the rubble, I was paralyzed, unable to rescue anyone but my surviving kin.

The occupier not only robbed us of our possessions but also subjected us to the humiliation of public spectacle, burning our meager belongings before our eyes, forcing men to strip naked and women to unveil, subjecting us to relentless harassment and violence. I trod upon the fragments of my family, consumed by a sense of utter helplessness. Seeking refuge as instructed, we found ourselves in southern Gaza, destitute and exposed, surviving in a makeshift tent by the shores, amid the stench of sewage and the specter of disease. Even the sea, once a source of solace, became a perilous expanse, engulfing our scant belongings as we were forced to relocate once more, this time to the desolate precincts of Deir Al-Balah. Here, death's grip tightens with multifarious guises, exacerbated by grief, fear, malnutrition, and the biting chill of winter.

Cost Breakdown:

Travel Expenses: $20,000

Accommodation: $8,000

Medical Bills: $2,000

My brother Muath lies wounded, his lungs grievously injured, requiring urgent surgery abroad, while my father teeters on the brink of despair. Each passing moment brings death's relentless knock upon the frail canvas of our tent. Remember, I am Rana, not just a name on a list, and my family's spirit endures. I seek to honor their memory and secure a future for those who remain.

My mother, Hanan Ouda Hassanein, suffers from debilitating cartilage and nerve inflammation, necessitating treatment abroad. My father, Mahmoud Youssef Hassanein, stripped of his livelihood, strives to forge a new path amidst the wreckage. My brother Muath Mahmoud Hassanein, wounded and broken, requires healing and restoration. And for myself, Rana Mahmoud Hassanein, assistance in pursuing medical treatment and furthering my academic and professional pursuits through a master's degree abroad, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

And here is some of our photos before and after the war :

Indeed, your generosity holds the power to breathe life into our desolate souls!

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