My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.
The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.
I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.
Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.
I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.
Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.
Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.
Hi! I am a mom of three kids and need your help. We are living in a real famine. The situation is getting worse. My children are dying of hunger due to malnutrition. I need a donation of $50 so that I can buy food for them. Vetted by @gazavetters line #515
please donate if you can 🩷
Hi My friend, I need urgent help.
My baby is in the hospital suffering from malnutrition and anemia. She needs your help, if possible.
My daughter needs urgent treatment and I don't have money to get the treatment. Please help my daughter 🥺💔🙏.
Please help to save my baby's life 😭🙏
https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-my-family99
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters @90-ghost @bilal-salah0
, my number verified on the list is ( #429 )✅️
please donate if you can 🩷
hi! I am desperately in need for help. I need my insulin to bring my blood sugar back down. It’s $300 That’s all I need. I’m not asking for a windfall, just a little help, please.
Be blessed 💓🙏🙏💓
DONATE AND SHARE.
thank you for sharing, I hope you're doing well!!
here's the link, please donate if you can 👇👇
In one corner of Gaza, drowning in destruction and echoing with suffering, sat Umm Saleh, a woman in her fifties, beside her modest tent hastily erected after losing her home in the latest bombardment. Her face told stories of patience and resilience, with lines of time etched on it as if they were records of unforgettable events.
Umm Saleh, who once lived in a small house filled with the voices of her children, now bore witness to the agony of displacement. She was forced to flee with her children after a shell hit their home, leaving behind years of memories and simple belongings she never imagined would become unattainable.
Every morning, Umm Saleh leaves her tent in search of sustenance to feed her children. She goes to bakeries providing aid, waiting for hours under Gaza’s scorching sun. Despite the exhaustion that weighs down her frail body, she carries the bread, dampened with her tears, and returns with a fake smile that conceals the worries of a mother striving to protect the remnants of her family.
At night, when everyone else is asleep, Umm Saleh remains seated at the entrance of the tent, gazing at the dark sky. She reminisces about the days gone by, about her home that was once filled with warmth, and about her elderly, ailing husband of 70 years. Despite the pain, she finds remnants of hope in her heart—a hope for a day when peace will return and her children and grandchildren will live in a new home brimming with joy.
In moments of solitude, Umm Saleh finds solace in prayer and supplication. She implores God to protect Gaza and its people and to wipe away the dust of sorrow from everyone’s hearts. She often repeats, "We are here to remind the world that we are stronger than war, and we will rebuild our lives anew, no matter the cost."
Umm Saleh is not just a displaced woman but a symbol of patience and strength in the face of harsh circumstances. Her story, like the stories of thousands of mothers in Gaza, embodies the continuous struggle for life in a land torn apart by war, yet still blossoming with hope.
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #519 )
My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.
I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.
My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.
I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.
This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.
If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.
I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.
Please, if you feel moved, consider supporting or sharing this campaign.
fukasee
why he looking at me like I did it?? 😭😭🙏🙏
unedited ver
my mikuo redesign ^__^
Heloo
Im wafaa from Gaza
I need your help if you can
Please donate to save my life and my family 🍉🇵🇸
Asking for help is not easy, I ask for a small donation of only 20€ from each person, 20€ will save my family from death in Gaza 💔 Donate through the link in bio (gofundme) Together, we can achieve our goal within a day and provide crucial support to me and my family in Gaza. Your contribution means everything to us and in these difficult times your kindness is our greatest hope. We are very grateful for any assistance you can provide and thank you for your kindness and generosity in our time of need
https://gofund.me/27fab415
Hello, thank you for sharing!! I wish for the best for you and your family!!
here's the link, please help out if you can 👇👇
Hello, My name is Mosab, and I live in Gaza with my family. Life here has become harder than I ever imagined, and I’m writing this with hope in my heart that you might hear our story.
The ongoing war has devastated my family. We’ve lost 25 family members—each one a beloved part of our lives, taken too soon. I miss them deeply—their laughter, their presence, their love. Every day is a reminder of this unimaginable loss.
We are now facing daily challenges to survive—things that most people take for granted, like food, clean water, and a safe place to sleep. The harsh realities of life here have replaced our dreams with the constant fight for survival.
💔 Lost Stability: The war has left us without work or a stable source of income.
📚 Dreams on Hold: Like so many here, my family’s dreams have been replaced by the need to simply survive.
😢 Unimaginable Loss: Losing 25 loved ones has left a void that can never be filled.
I’m sharing our story with the hope that someone out there might care. Even $10 can make a big difference for us, and if you’re unable to donate, just reblogging this post can help spread the word.
Your kindness, no matter how small, is something we’ll never forget.
Your support is not about changing our entire situation—it’s about giving us a little relief, a little hope, and a way to keep going. We are not asking for much, and we understand if you can’t donate. Sharing our story is just as valuable to us as a donation.
Thank you for reading this far. It means the world to us to know that someone is listening. Your kindness gives us strength and helps us believe in a better tomorrow.
With all our gratitude,
Mosab and Family ❤️