Pinned
My name is Nidal, and I am writing this as a father desperate to protect his family.
Not long ago, we had a life in Gaza—modest, but full of love and hope. My wife and I worked tirelessly to give our children a future. My son, Musab, dreamed of becoming a computer engineer, spending hours coding with passion. My daughter, Huda, was excelling in school, while my youngest, Maryam, filled our home with her beautiful drawings.
When the bombs fell, we lost everything—our home, our peace, our dreams. We fled in the night, dodging debris, praying to make it to safety. Now, we live in a tiny, overcrowded space where explosions shake the walls, and my children flinch at every sound. Clean water is scarce, food prices are unbearable, and electricity is a luxury we can no longer count on.
Musab had to abandon his dream of finishing university. Huda struggles to study with constant power outages. Talah, only 13, hasn’t been to school since her classroom was destroyed. And little Maryam—she no longer plays. Her childhood has been replaced by fear.
Every night, I hold my children close, unsure if we will see the morning. Every day, I fight against the helplessness of being trapped, with no way out.
This is why I am reaching out. I need your help—not for me, but for my children. They deserve safety. They deserve a future. They deserve to dream again.
Even the smallest support can help us rebuild our lives. Please, don’t turn away. Share our story. Donate if you can. Give my children the chance to hope again.
