Help Us Rebuild Our Lives After We Lost Everything in Gaza

Hello Dear Humanity,

My name is Mariam, and my heart is heavy with the challenges my family faces each day. I am a devoted wife and mother to three beautiful children. My eldest, Kenan, a courageous seven-year-old, faces the daily challenges of diabetes with a bravery that amazes me.

My spirited two-year-old twins, Youssef and Mariam, bring light and laughter into our lives even in these dark times.

We fled to Egypt, escaping the genocide in Gaza, hoping for safety and a chance to rebuild our lives. But our reality here has been harsh. The trauma of war lingers; every time my children hear an airplane, they tremble in fear, their cries of "Mama, mama" echoing the nightmares we left behind. The psychological scars run deep, and as a mother, it is heartbreaking to witness. Every night, before my children go to sleep, I must reassure them that they are safe. I hug them tightly, but sleep does not come easily. They often wake up in the middle of the night screaming, haunted by the memories of the past. Their fear is a constant, painful reminder of the horrors we have endured.

Despite our relentless efforts, finding work has been impossible. Without official refugee status, our basic rights are out of reach. Life in Egypt is costly, and we struggle to afford even the simplest necessities like food and shelter. Every day is a challenge to secure enough food, and finding a safe place to live is a constant worry. The expense of managing Kenan's diabetes adds to our burdens, with medical supplies and doctor visits being an ongoing necessity.

Kenan dreams of becoming a scientist specializing in electricity. His eyes light up whenever he talks about building inventions and discovering new things. He envisions a future where he can create and innovate, driven by his boundless curiosity and determination. However, without the means to afford proper education, his dreams are in danger of being extinguished. It breaks my heart to see his potential trapped by our circumstances, unable to flourish.

One of the harshest memories as a mother is seeing Kenan draw the same picture over and over again—our old house in Gaza. He can't forget the days of his childhood in that home, a place that once brought him joy and security. Each drawing is a poignant reminder of what we've lost and what we hope to rebuild. The simple act of drawing provides him solace, but it also underscores the pain of displacement and loss that he carries in his young heart.

Kenan's fascination with electricity goes far beyond simple curiosity—it's a heartfelt mission. Since we’ve experienced countless power cuts in Gaza, he dreams of a day when he can bring consistent electricity to our homeland. He spends hours meticulously sketching circuit diagrams, each line and connection representing his hope for a brighter future. One day, he proudly showed me a drawing of a circuit that he claimed could light up all of Gaza. His eyes sparkled with determination and excitement as he explained every detail, his voice filled with the passion of a young scientist on a mission. These drawings are more than just pictures; they are his promise to himself and to us—a promise to illuminate a place that has known so much darkness. Yet, without the proper resources and education, his dreams risk fading away, just like the lights during one of our power outages.

Youssef, one of my two-year-old twins, has become very sensitive to loud noises. Every time he hears a loud sound, he runs to me with tears in his eyes, seeking comfort and safety. It breaks my heart to see such a young child living in constant fear. One day, a car backfired near our home, and Youssef clung to me, shaking and crying, "Mama, is it a rocket?" His innocent words tore at my soul, a stark reminder of the trauma he has endured.

My little Mariam used to play happily with her toys, creating imaginary worlds of joy and peace. Now, she spends hours sitting with her favorite doll, whispering to it as if seeking comfort. Recently, I found her in a corner, rocking her doll and softly singing a lullaby. When I asked her what she was doing, she looked up at me with wide, sad eyes and said, "Mama, I'm making sure my baby isn't scared." Her words broke my heart, a stark reminder of the security and peace she so desperately misses.

Adding to our distress, my children are deprived of education due to our lack of official papers. It is devastating to watch them miss out on the opportunity to learn and grow, to see their future dimmed by circumstances beyond their control. No child should be denied the right to education and the promise of a brighter tomorrow. Education is not just a fundamental right; it is the key to unlocking their potential and dreams.

The financial assistance you provided has been a lifeline, particularly in managing Kenan's medical needs. Your generosity has given us hope, a precious commodity in these times. But our struggle is far from over. We continue to juggle these expenses, fighting to make ends meet with the little we have. Your support has allowed us to breathe a little easier, knowing that there are compassionate people willing to help us through this difficult journey.

From the depths of my heart, I thank you for your continued compassion and generosity. Your support sustains us and fuels our hope. Please, consider continuing to help us in this dire time of need. Your kindness is our beacon of hope, guiding us toward a better future where Kenan’s dream of becoming a scientist can come true. Every donation brings us a step closer to stability and allows my children to dream once more.

With heartfelt gratitude,

Mariam