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My name is Fatima, a teacher from Gaza. I used to work in a small school I loved dearly, planting hope in the hearts of children and teaching them that tomorrow could be better. But the war took everything away. My school was bombed, I lost my job, and our home was reduced to rubble. Yet, I refused to give up. I set up a small tent amid the destruction and continued teaching children, showing them that knowledge is a light that cannot be extinguished, even in the darkest times.

My husband, Akram, was my partner and pillar of support. But he was severely injured in an attack targeting civilians. His abdominal injuries are so severe that he can no longer work or even lift basic items. Every day, I see the pain in his eyes and feel the weight of helplessness, but I try to stay strong for him and for our children.

Our eldest, Manar, is four years old, and she’s missing out on her childhood amidst this devastation. Our youngest, Ibrahim, was born under bombardment just a year ago. He has suffered greatly due to the lack of milk and proper medical care. Yet, sometimes, he smiles, and in those brief moments, I find the strength to keep going.

We now live in a fragile tent that doesn’t shield us from the cold or rain. Every day is a new battle for survival. I write these words while holding my children’s hands, with nothing left but my faith in God and the hope that your kind hearts will hear our plea.

Please help us provide milk and food for our children, ease Akram’s pain, and rebuild even a small part of the life the war has destroyed. Every donation, no matter how small, makes a big difference in our lives.

I ask you to share our story and be our support during this harsh and unforgiving time.

Donation link

My name is Fatima, a teacher from Gaza. I used to work in a small school I loved dearly, planting hope in the hearts of children and teaching them that tomorrow could be better. But the war took everything away. My school was bombed, I lost my job, and our home was reduced to rubble. Yet, I refused to give up. I set up a small tent amid the destruction and continued teaching children, showing them that knowledge is a light that cannot be extinguished, even in the darkest times.

My husband, Akram, was my partner and pillar of support. But he was severely injured in an attack targeting civilians. His abdominal injuries are so severe that he can no longer work or even lift basic items. Every day, I see the pain in his eyes and feel the weight of helplessness, but I try to stay strong for him and for our children.

Our eldest, Manar, is four years old, and she’s missing out on her childhood amidst this devastation. Our youngest, Ibrahim, was born under bombardment just a year ago. He has suffered greatly due to the lack of milk and proper medical care. Yet, sometimes, he smiles, and in those brief moments, I find the strength to keep going.

We now live in a fragile tent that doesn’t shield us from the cold or rain. Every day is a new battle for survival. I write these words while holding my children’s hands, with nothing left but my faith in God and the hope that your kind hearts will hear our plea.

Please help us provide milk and food for our children, ease Akram’s pain, and rebuild even a small part of the life the war has destroyed. Every donation, no matter how small, makes a big difference in our lives.

I ask you to share our story and be our support during this harsh and unforgiving time.

Donation link

The Reality Behind the CV 📄 Before the war, my life was defined by the precision of a microscope and the life-saving results of ELISA machines. As a Laboratory Medicine Specialist at Al-Shifa, Al-Rantisi, and Al-Awda hospitals, my mission was to diagnose diseases and save lives.

Today, that world is gone. The laboratories are destroyed, and my "white coat" has been replaced by the struggle for survival in a displacement tent.

The Shift: From Diagnostics to Survival 🔬➡️🏚️ My professional journey has been forced to a halt, and my daily "metrics" have changed:

Instead of biochemical levels, I monitor my children’s and elderly parents’ ability to endure freezing cold.

Instead of diagnostic results, I search for a single drop of clean water for 19 family members.

Instead of a medical provider, I am now the sole guardian for 7 displaced families who have lost everything.

Two Worlds, One Family 🌊🚛

On the left: Our "Normal"—dreams and laughter by the Gaza sea. On the right: Our "Now"—carrying our entire lives on a truck, searching for a safety that no longer exists.

Beyond the Numbers: A Shattered Future 🎓 We are not just statistics. We are a family of professionals—doctors, engineers, and specialists—now living in ruins. Among us are orphaned children and elderly parents whose lives depend on this plea.

How You Can Help: The Survival Math 📍 Your support is the "brick" that builds our wall of protection. Even the smallest contribution makes a difference:

$50: Feeds one family for an entire week. 🍞

$350: Sustains all 19 souls (7 families) for a week.

$1,400: Our monthly lifeline for food, water, and medicine. 🩺

👉CLICK HERE TO DONATE VIA GOFUNDME

Transparency & Trust ✨ I believe in complete honesty. You can track how your donations are providing dignity to my family and the orphans here:  👉 [CLICK HERE TO SEE THE PROOF OF FUNDS / UPDATES ON TUMBLR]

🙏 Thank you for believing in humanity.

✓ Vetted by @gazavetters (#533) · ✓ Verified by @bilal-sala7 (#36)

i am only a mildly embarrassed about this

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