Supporting a Family’s Survival Amid the Crisis in Gaza

In the heart of Gaza, 11-year-old Rofan sits in the dim corner of a crumbling room, cradling her 8-year-old sister, Ayah. The two haven’t had a proper meal in days, their frail bodies a stark reminder of the famine gripping their home. Their mother, Imtenan, torn between despair and determination, ventures into the dangerous streets daily, searching for scraps of food or a few drops of water—each outing a gamble with her life.

As Ayah clings to her older sister, she whispers, “Will we ever go home? Why is the world letting this happen to us?” The innocence of her questions cuts deeply, but there are no answers—only silence and tears.

Their cousin, Adam, just 12 years old, has taken on the role of protector far beyond his years. He spends his days wandering the rubble-strewn streets, scavenging for anything that might sustain them. His small hands, meant for schoolbooks and toys, now sift through ruins in a desperate bid for survival. He is a child thrust into a world of unimaginable hardship, his innocence shattered by a war he cannot understand.

This family is but one fragment of a larger story. My family—34 souls, most of them children—has endured seven displacements since the war began. My father, Atiya, at 71, struggles to find strength, while my mother, Inam, carries the weight of our suffering, her prayers filled with a fragile hope. Everything we once had is gone: no water, no electricity, no medicine, no diapers for the youngest. Hunger grips us, and famine now threatens even our barest means of survival.

We have lost 24 loved ones to this relentless war. The grief is overwhelming, but it is the children—so many children—who bear the heaviest burden. Their laughter has been silenced, replaced by fear and anguish. Their dreams have been stolen by a reality too cruel for words.

My name is Muath AS, and I cannot stand by as my family endures this unimaginable pain. Each child, each mother, each elder carries a story of resilience in the face of unthinkable despair. This is not just a plea for survival—it is a cry for dignity, for hope, and for the world to see our humanity.

This campaign is being run by Mousa Sayma in Brandenburg, who has committed to ensuring every donation reaches those in need. Your support can make a real difference—offering food, medicine, and the barest essentials to a family desperately clinging to hope. Please, stand with us. Every contribution brings us one step closer to survival, one step closer to a future where the children can dream once more.