thanks for your support. There are 19 days left until the end of our campaign. These funds will be essential support for us when we reach Egypt, to start our lives again and so that I can return to my work. We are still in northern Gaza and will not be able to register to travel until we reach the goal of this campaign. Can we reach the goal before the period ends?
I recently created a campaign to evacuate my family to Egypt, and you all supported me in every way. We are very happy with this progress, b
Heavy shooting in the area separating Khan Yunis and Deir al-Balah
The tanks are 500 meters from the separation road on the seashore
A state of fear, displacement, crying and screaming... the scene is indescribable
As if they were the horrors of the Day of Resurrection
What's going on?
The plane fires its bullet
Artillery is bombing
The dust is rising
Many calls on the phone wanting to be reassured I'm stuck in the middle of the road Miraculously and at great risk, I managed to cross the road
All this death
No ambulance screaming as usual, panting for escape and death!
People are fleeing from all sides and do not know where to go!
This is what happened to me a while ago while I was returning from Deir al-Balah to Khan Yunis.
The scenes are indescribable.
I remind you that tomorrow, Thursday, is the date for achieving the fifth goal of my campaign, which is 50k. I ask you for your support and interest in preserving what remains of our lives.
Campaign documentation number 219 by @nabulsi , @el-shab-hussein
hi, my name is ahmad and I'm raising a fund for my cousin Siraj and thi… Ahmad Abudayeh needs your support for Support Siraj's Family in Reb
This is an emergency! Please I beg you get Siraj to 50k by tomorrow. In fact the sooner the better! Siraj and his family is in danger- we do not know what may happen. Please pray for my friend and please boost and donate! Currently at $48,622 CAD. Still $1378 CAD left to go!
I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my parents, two sons, and four daughters (two of them suffer from allergies).
Dear Humanity,
I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my… Ahmed Alshawish needs your support for Emergency: Help Evacuate My Fa
I've witnessed the evidence of the tragedy that has struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived amidst numerous previous wars. But today, we face the most dangerous and fierce battle in the current war. The urgent need intensifies for us, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs such as food, water, and safe shelter.
Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever, my family and I evacuated from northern Gaza to southern Gaza, hoping to return soon, but it wasn't meant to be. Our home was surrounded, burned, and then completely destroyed, Our home, once a fortress of hope, now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.
The night before we left from the north to the south was terrifying. Shelling sounds were everywhere, making a loud noise that felt like it went through our souls. Every explosions shook the ground like earthquakes, sending shockwaves of fear through our trembling bodies. filling us with fear. The air smelled of destruction and blood, making it hard to breathe. When dawn came, we saw the devastation around us, realizing our home was now a symbol of loss and despair.
We ran into the streets and with each step we took into the unknown streets, we felt as if we were plunging deeper into the abyss of our shattered existence, leaving behind everything we own in our home: Clothes, important official documents, the car, and literally it's almost everything - the enormity of our loss weighed heavily upon us.
Our home it was where we found hope, safety, and made precious memories. Losing it felt like losing years of our lives, leaving us adrift amidst the wreckage of our shattered existence.
A brief video depicting the devastation that struck our home and our entire neighborhood in Gaza.
Desperate Plea: Escaping Gaza's Allergy Nightmare
I, Haya, suffer from severe allergy to penicillin-derived medications, and my sister, Amal, also suffers from severe allergies to medications from my family such as Paracetamol and Ibuprofen.
These allergies create a deep sense of fear and anxiety for us, as we live in a constant state of tension and fear of anything that may require a visit to the hospital. We fear being given inappropriate medications due to the unavailability of suitable treatments in Gaza because of war or lack of awareness and not informing the doctor of our allergies, which could lead to serious consequences threatening our lives.
MY Father Income
Our dreams are heading towards oblivion in the labyrinth of an uncertain future
My story, along with my siblings, represents a united team of four individuals, three of whom are skilled programmers and one graphic designer. We work as freelancers in the world of freelancing.
As for my younger sister, she is a student studying at the College of Architecture. She has always carried a big dream in her heart, a dream of being part of changing Gaza, of making it more beautiful and better. She looked forward to the day when she would receive her degree and start building this dream. But the beginning of the war changed everything. The destruction of infrastructure and universities cast shadows of despair over her dreams.
When I think of my brother in Belgium, I can't help but feel deep sadness. He has been suffering from unbearable anxiety and insomnia since the outbreak of the war. Sleep eludes him at night, and his physical and mental health collapses under the weight of these heavy burdens, negatively affecting his performance at work. Problems and challenges pile up in front of him without the slightest opportunity for rest.
We all feel psychological pressure and extreme anxiety. The war hasn't been limited to external attacks but has deeply infiltrated our daily lives. We search among the rubble for a little safety and the basic resources for survival. Every day comes with a new challenge that we must overcome.
As we sway amidst the rubble of shattered dreams, our souls wrestle and our hearts beat strongly challenging the ravages of war.
Our parents earnestly seek a way to rescue us from this hell, feeling the heavy responsibility for every moment we spend under the shadows of fear and destruction. They dream of a safe place where they can build for us a better future, filled with security and hope, for we deserve life in all its meanings of comfort and peace.
Perhaps this fundraising campaign represents a light in the midst of darkness, it is indeed the only hope we cling to firmly.
I appeal to the world as a whole to hear my cry and the mournful cry of my family in Gaza. We need the helping hand that reaches out to wipe our tears and build a bridge to safety.
Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.
The purpose of the fundraising campaign
The goal of this fundraising campaign is to rescue my family - my parents, my siblings, and me - through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt, which currently requires $5000 per person. This campaign is our only chance to stay alive, and I humbly request your assistance at this critical time. I will provide you with a comprehensive breakdown of the expenses, committing to transparency and clarity.
Dear Humanity,
I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my… Ahmed Alshawish needs your support for Emergency: Help Evacuate My Fa
All of our important links are here https://linktr.ee/hayanahed
Verified by :
⭐️ operation olive branch, number 26 on their spreadsheet. (On Master list)
⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249 on their spreadsheet. Or you could see it as number 212 here is the photo for more clear proof
UPDATE! together we raised a total of $3,824.28 for Crips for eSims for Gaza and The Queer Trans Project! while the divided amount is just shy of $2,000, it was so close that i decided to round up and cover the difference ❤️ thank you so much everyone!!!
Hello everyone!
I am Muhammed from Gaza, married with one child, and my wife is … Ibrahim Alnunu needs your support for Let’s help Fady
There is nothing in the world worse than feeling helpless, and that you cannot do anything for yourself and your family. In these difficult circumstances, my family and I are facing the most difficult days of our lives, we struggle in order to obtain food, drink, and safety due to the war of genocide and famine. We have lost everything, home, work, and psychological peace.
I hope for your help and support for my family with money or by republishing my family’s blog from the account. Any donation, even if it is small, may be a lifeline for my family and help us continue. Even $5 makes a difference to us
I don't know why there are fake people distorting our image. I am Moataz from northern Gaza, a graphic designer, and this is my Instagram account. I photographed almost the entirety of northern Gaza. You can visit it and make sure. Unfortunately, we have gone through a lot and there is no passion to delve into the controversy of what is happening outside the world.
IG @moataz_art
For this reason, I unfortunately do not receive any donations
This is my campaign, and I will continue to fight to reach its long-term goal and rebuild my home, just as I fought throughout 257 days of war to stay alive. This is all not for me, but for the sake of my daughter, my wife, and our future children. My brother was martyred a week ago, and this is the biggest thing that has happened to me in this war, but I cannot surrender. I will keep trying just for the sake of my family.
Hello my friends, I am Moataz, a graphic designer from Gaza. I have been married to Maryam for two and a half years, and we have the most be
Or via PayPal👇🏻
Go to paypal.me/RamiHABOUSH1 and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.
My heart breaks into millions of pieces whenever my brothers are able to send me pictures of the kids. Seeing their innocent smiles amidst all the suffering fills my family and I with as much courage as it does with pain. It's not merely the walls of the house they were supposed to grow up in that have been reduced to rubble; Precious irreplaceable moments of their childhood along with so many hopes and dreams have also gone up in smoke. Due to the ongoing genocide and constant dispalcement, they have been robbed of the simplest of joys like going to school or having fun at playgrounds, since all those supposedly safe spaces have been destroyed. Instead, they have to wait in endless lines for some polluted water, fend off insects and endure the unbearable heat in the tent. Not only that, but our children and newborns live in an unhealthy hazardous environment due to the piles of waste and filthy sewage water surrounding them leading to the spread of disease including all types of skin rash and bacterial and viral infections.
what makes it even worse is the shortage, if not total absence, of medical care, medicines, and hygiene pruducts.
Desdpite everything, my family have been trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy for the children's sake. Some teachers in the camp set up a tent to help kids learn and forget their daily struggle, so my brother and sister have been taking my nephews and nieces there. It's not perfect but it made the little ones really happy. It is literally an ordeal to provide ingredients and even cook food every day. However, my family have been doing their best to make some treats for the children and also get them some stationery but it costs a fortune to buy the most basic items now in Gaza if they are ever available.
My family's day to day expenses keep increasing due to the blockade and skyrocketing prices. It cost them a packet (300 euros) to only buy the smallest gas bottle which they couldn't believe they could find in the first place. They have been using it sparingly since it's considered some type of luxury now. After losing my job and due to my own struggles in Germany, I haven't been able to provide for them as I used to so I was forced to send them donation money meant for their evacuation which does not seem very likely at the moment. That's why a great amount of the funds has been exhausted to help my family pay for their ever rising daily expenditures, and I had no choice but to increase the goal of the fundraiser from the thankfully raised €70000 to €100000.
cannot begin to imagine what would've become of everyone if it weren't for your generous support. Words fail to descibe how grateful I am to all of you. I sincerely wish I didn't have to but I have no other option but to ask for your help again. Every member in my family, especially the children and newborns, is in dire need of any contribution whether it is a reblog or donation. They are literally fighting for their very survival so please continue to help them get through this insufferable hardship as you always have. I truly trust you will 🙏
Hi everyone,
I am Bilal, 22 years old, from Gaza, Palestine. I am reaching… Bilal salah needs your support for Help Evacuate My Family f
Bilal's gfm appears #136 on the list of vetted fundraisers maintained by hussein @/el-shab-hussein and nairuz @/nabulsi so please dont hesitate to share and donate
Guys if you didnt already know, bilal stays abroad and has been supporting his family from there this whole time during the genocide. He has 10 DAYS to raise the rest of the amount because he might get deported from germany by august 15th, please keep supporting him, he doesnt know what might happen if he doesnt reach his goal before that date.
Hello, I'm Ola, a graduate student and Mathematics teacher from Gaza,Palestine. As you reading my message, myself and my family, “my mother, father, three sisters, and my little brother,” are fighting death in northern Gaza and trying to survive under all kinds of suffering including but not limited to destruction, fear, and instability, starvation, thirst, and poverty.
Your generosity has the power to make a significant difference, please donate or replog my post widly.
My compaign has been verified and appears on @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi's list of vetted fundraisers line 205.
Hello, I'm Ola, a graduate student from the faculty of science - Al-Azh… Nesma Khazendar needs your support for Ola's Family Call for your S
“It’s-” his cheeks flush pink. You’re not used to them doing that because in the real world they don't; but here, in this dream you find yourself trapped in, things are different.
Mr. Kruger is different.
“Is it because that’s not your name here?” You ask him. “I can call you by your other name if you want.”
He shifts uncomfortably on the couch next to you and you can’t help but want to tease him, just a bit. He’s so easy to tease here and it’s fun. You lean in closer.
He freezes as your hand rests against his arm. As your chest brushes his shoulder. As your lips tickle the shell of his ear:
“Eren.”
His cheeks burn an even deeper red. It makes you think about thedifferences between this dream and reality.
Everything is so much quieter here. The city is still loud, of course, but there’s a peace to it. A peace that you never find in Liberio.
The food here is better. There’s more flavor and more food in general because nothing is rationed.
There’s no war. No pain. No suffering. And no red spray paint against brick walls.
And then there’s Mr. Kruger.
Eren.
He looks the same (although he’s got both eyes and legs). With the same long hair (although he normally ties it up instead of letting it hang down) and the same facial features (although his skin is less rough, with fewer scars and no tired bags under his eyes). He’s the same height. Basic build. And has the same blue-green eyes that reveal golden flecks of stars when the light hits them just right. But…
Mr. Kruger smiles here. He smiles and he laughs and he plays with the cats while he tells you about his friends.
He was alive in Liberio in the sense that he was breathing, eating, moving around and going through the motions of life. But here, in this beautiful vivid peaceful dream, here Mr. Kruger is able to live.
And there’s a difference, you suppose. A difference between living and being alive.
Maybe that’s what made them different people, despite all of their similarities.
There was something depressingly poetic about the whole thing, but you didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about it right now.
“Mr. Kruger.” You say and he visibly relaxes. You follow up with: “I’m hungry.”
Mr. Kruger shoots off the couch and darts into the kitchen without another word.
You smiled to yourself as you watched it, reminded of another difference between this beautiful peaceful dream and reality.
He might look like him, sort of, but at the end of the day Eren wasn’t Mr. Kruger at all.
Mr. Kruger had no idea how to cook.
“I made you a cake, obviously.” You tell Mr. Kruger in answer to his question, as you begin to rebandage his head.
“What kind of cake?” He asks.
“Hmm… strawberry.”
He grimaces.
“Chocolate?”
He shrugs.
You stop bandaging. “You like vanilla?”
“I don’t like flavors that are too strong.”
You scoff.
“Hey,” he protests, “it’s my birthday.”
You smile as you continue to bandage his head. “Alright fine, I made vanilla then,” as you expertly wrap and tuck the bandages, you continue to ramble about the made-up birthday party you would throw him in your head. Describing it in vivid detail, as if it was real.
As if it was in front of you instead of the palace in your head.
You imagine Mr. Kruger’s hand brushing against the back of yours as you hand him a slice of cake.
But you don’t tell him about that part of the fantasy.
“I would wear… a blue dress. Oh! And one of those big floppy hats to keep the sun out of my face!”
You’re helping him across the courtyard. He’s sore from an intense session of physical therapy and needs more than just his crutch to get around.
Mr. Kruger grunts as you lower him to his favourite bench where he said he was meeting his friend.
“Do you sunburn easily?” He asks.
“Yes. All the time.”
He lets out a short huff of amusement as his eyes trail your face. “I bet you skip tan and go right to red.”
Your cheeks burn as he says it.
In your head, you’re potting hanging baskets of pretty red flowers on the balcony. In your head, it’s not just his eyes that trail your cheeks. In your head, his hand reaches up to brush against them too.
Again, you don’t tell him about that part of the fantasy.
“Chamomile.” Mr. Kruger says softly as you hand him his paper cup and his three pills. You already slipped the green one into your pocket.
You blink away the tears that have started to well up in your eyes.
“That’s the kind of tea I’d bring you.” Mr. Kruger says. “It’s relaxing.”
You always get this way on the anniversary of his death. You weren’t supposed to be sad though. He was a traitor, so you were supposed to be happy he was dead.
But you weren’t.
You take in a shaky breath. “Would you… Would you sit with me while I drink it?”
“Yes.” Mr. Kruger takes his medicine.
You imagine the couch. The tea.
You imagine letting your head fall to his shoulder and your eyes slipping closed as Mr. Kruger describes the chipped cup he’d hand you, and the cat that would be asleep in your lap.
Once you were finished with your tea, he’d take the empty cup from you. He’d place it on the table and then wrap his arm around you so you could tuck yourself against his chest. He would rub your back as you cried. As he let you cry.
When you were done, he’d kiss the top of your head while you drifted off to sleep.
Like usual, you don’t tell Mr. Kruger that last part.
The house grows more vivid. More detailed. More wonderful and into a more perfect escape with little pieces of you and little pieces of Mr. Kruger as well.
Paintings. Souvenirs. A collection of different mugs and teacups because you can’t help constantly buying new ones.
It becomes more than just your home.
It becomes his home too.
“What would you do?” Mr. Kruger asks.
It was well into the evening and several hours past the end of your shift. You should have gone home ages ago, but instead, you were sitting in his hospital bed next to him- so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his shoulder.
But you weren’t touching.
Never touching.
The few centimetres between the two of you are as close as you’ll be able to get in reality.
Thankfully, you’re not in reality right now. Instead, you’re swept up in the fantasy of your small, safe home. You're somewhere that’s nice.
“I would read a book on the couch,” you answer. “What would you do?”
“Sit next to you,” he says. “The cats won't leave me alone.”
You laugh. “It’s because you ignore them. Cats like that, you know. They like it when you play hard to get.”
“Maybe I should play harder.”
“It’ll only make them like you more.”
The corners of his lips just barely lift into a smile, but they drop again a moment later.
A silence passes over you as you sink into the moment. You’re staring at the wall across from you, but the hospital room isn’t what surrounds you.
Not really.
What surrounds you is framed photos. Plants. A warm couch and the smell of a homemade dinner wafting in from the kitchen. There are people in the streets below. People at peace, because there isn’t any war here. No pain. No suffering at all.
There are only things that are nice.
Nothing else is allowed.
It’s just you and Mr. Kruger.
You lean against him.
But you don’t-...
You take a short breath.
You’re normally confident when you talk to Mr. Kruger about the nice place in your head, but right now that confidence is fading. It’s fading because you can imagine doing it, but you’ve never let those thoughts be known like you let all the others. But what if you did? Just this once. What if you…
“I’d move closer to you...” you tell him, just above a whisper, “...so our arms could touch.”
You can imagine it so perfectly. The brush of his arm against yours. If you leaned over, even just slightly, you’d feel it. But that’s reality.
You’re not in reality right now. You’re somewhere nice.
You take a short breath: “And I’d-”
“I’d hold your hand.” Mr. Kruger cuts you off, “...I bet it’s soft.”
Your fingers twitch against your lap. They curl together and you imagine the sensation of his hand replacing one of yours.
“I-...” you stutter, “...yours is too…”
It’s warm.
Not just his hand, but everything else. The house. The couch. The life. The people on the street below you. The cat in your lap. Mr. Kruger sitting beside you.
It’s warm. It’s soft. It’s comfortable. It’s perfect. The most wonderful escape. The most amazing dream. You wish it was real, you do, but at the same time you hope somewhere like that never slips into reality because you know if it did it would become tainted.
Reality is thick ropes. Flesh. Bone. Red words against brick walls. Reality takes the tiniest spark of something pure, of something good, and turns it into a nightmare.
Somewhere nice couldn’t possibly be real. That warm, soft, comfortable, perfect place would be ruined if it was.
So you don’t want it to be real. Not at all. You never want it to be real. If it was real it wouldn’t be perfect.
If it was real, you could never-
“...I’d kiss you...”
You can see it, so vividly, just like the couch and the food and the chipped tea cups.
You see Mr. Kruger right next to you. Holding your hand. You see yourself pull back, just enough that you can meet his blue-green eyes. Your own eyes flick down, just for one second, to his lips, and when you glance up he looks different.
His bandages are gone and he’s got both eyes and legs. His long hair is tied up instead of hanging down. His skin is less rough, with fewer scars and no tired bags under his eyes. He’s the same. He’s the same height. Basic build. And has the same blue-green eyes that reveal golden flecks of stars when the light hits them just right. But…
He’s smiling.
He’s smiling and laughing and talking to you so much faster and louder than he normally does he’s--
He’s alive.
And there’s a difference, you suddenly realize, a difference between living and being alive.
Without a second thought, you lean forward.
You kiss him, cutting off whatever he had been rambling about in favour of sinking into the feeling of his warm lips against yours.
Warm.
Just like the rest of the wonderful dream.
You’d spent the last few weeks describing a lot of your fantasies to Mr. Kruger, but there were still things you kept to yourself. Stolen glances. Soft touches. Feelings that you couldn’t admit to, not even in the fantasy.
But then you’d gone and said it:
‘I’d kiss you.’ You had told him, only a fraction of a second ago without taking a moment to think it over.
And you aren’t given a moment, not really, because the image of it happening flashes through your mind so quickly, and in that time, Mr. Kruger makes his reply.
He takes in a short breath. His body completely motionless next to you.
He’s looking out the window.
“...I’d kiss you too…” he says, his eyes never leaving the line of the horizon.
He lifts a hand to cup your cheek and kisses you back, pulling you against him on the couch.
The scratchy couch.
The warm world.
The perfect fantasy where you’ll never live - but for once in your life you can be alive.
You stare at the blank, depressing hospital wall.
You should go home.
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((I'm getting a bit of burnout with this fic, and some comments on your thoughts so far would go a long way in terms of igniting that spark. So please let me know what you think so far <3 thank you guys for reading!!))
In its eighth month, Gaza appears defeated, trapped between walls of destruction and the cries of children. It is enveloped in deep sorrow, gripped by constant fear, and its walls speak a language of muffled screams. War is harsh. 😢
How can I protect my mother and siblings from this hell? How can I get them out of the horrors of war and bring them back to safety? My heart bleeds with indescribable pain, and my eyes see the scenes of suffering my people endure in this shattered land. 💔
My mother is the light that guides me through the darkest nights. How can war extinguish this light? How can my heart be at peace when it fears for the safety of those I love? I want them to be well, I want them to be safe, but war takes without mercy and destroys without pity. 😔
I want to get them out of this hell. I want to see them well. Please help me save my mother, my father, and my siblings. 🙏
Imagine this is your mother. How would you feel? 😭
Hello everyone
My name is Ahmed I'm from Gaza, i am engineer I created… Alaa Al khateeb needs your support for Help Ahmed family to trav
