The Journey of Life or Death: Our Displacement from the Ruins in Gaza
Hello, I’m Hani, 26 years old, from Gaza. Life wasn’t easy even before the war. I studied social work, but due to the lack of job opportunities, I was forced to work as a taxi driver. But in October last year, everything changed in unimaginable ways. The war on Gaza began, and my life, as well as my family’s, turned into a never-ending nightmare.
We lived in an area close to the border, and when the shells started raining down on us from the very first hour, we had no choice but to leave. We heard the sounds of bombings destroying the homes and streets around us, and we witnessed how our city turned to ruins in just a few hours. Massacres were happening right before our eyes; children, women, and the elderly fell as helpless victims. Everything we loved disappeared — our home, our neighborhood, and our neighbors.
At first, we tried to hold on. We stayed for two months in northern Gaza despite the destruction all around us. But when the bombing intensified and targeted every surrounding area, we had to make the hardest decision: to flee south. The journey was not easy. Everywhere, the destruction was immense, roads were cut off, and there was no means of transportation. Every moving vehicle was directly targeted, and we were terrified of every sound.
Still, we had to move forward. I gathered my family: my father Yasser (55 years old) and my mother Manal (50 years old), who suffers from diabetes and high blood pressure, my sister Safaa (23 years old), my brother Ibrahim (15 years old), and my younger siblings Nasser (7 years old), Bara’a (5 years old), and Adam (3 years old). We began walking on foot, covering over 15 kilometers, while I carried Adam on my back at times. We could hear the planes overhead and see the devastation around us.
With every step, we approached the checkpoints controlled by Israeli soldiers. The sight of armed soldiers inspecting everyone heightened our fear. The children cried, and every day Nasser would ask me, "When will we go back home?" I had no answer. Each time I looked into his eyes, my heart would break, knowing that he was searching for hope amidst the sorrow.
After hours of waiting and fear at the checkpoints, we finally entered the south. But our suffering didn’t end there. We were taken to Deir al-Balah, to a school overcrowded with displaced people. The classrooms were extremely packed, with each room hosting at least five families. We couldn’t find a place inside, so we had to sleep beside the school’s wall, living in a makeshift tent made of cloth and wood provided by some people. I watched the children as they tried to sleep and felt powerless to provide them with safety.
Another month passed, and we were asked to leave that area and move to Rafah. We lived in a small tent for four months among thousands of displaced people in the Al-Zawaida area. But during the last month, heavy rains flooded our tent, making it impossible to stay there. We were forced to relocate to a school that was still under construction. We have now been living in this school for five months, sharing a single classroom with five other families, struggling to survive and stay alive.
Our emotions are a mix of fear and pain, but every time I see my family standing strong together, I feel that there is still hope in our hearts. This journey was not only physical but emotional as well. Every day, we live with the hope of returning to our home, which now only exists in our memories.
In the midst of this suffering, getting food and water has become a daily challenge. We live in harsh conditions where food aid arrives in limited quantities and is not enough to meet the needs of my large family. Sometimes, we are forced to wait in long lines just to get a small amount of food, while the children endure hunger and anxiety.
As for water, the situation is even worse. We struggle to obtain clean drinking water, which puts us at risk of illness. The health conditions around us continue to worsen, with many diseases spreading due to the lack of cleanliness and overcrowding. I see my brother Adam (3 years old) suffering from a persistent cough, and my heart breaks knowing I can’t do anything to help him.
These conditions surround us from every angle, making life more difficult, but we continue to endure, hoping to return to our normal lives.
My campaign is legitimate and documented, and I’m here to ask for your help. Please support us in this journey by sharing my story or providing assistance to my family. We need help now more than ever, as every step of support is a step towards hope and survival.
✅My campaign vetted at line #5 , by @gazavetters ✅
✅Vetted by 90-ghost link✅
€2,491/€25,000 as of October 22nd
Currently €509 away from €3,000 as a short term goal
please consider donating even just €5, €10, or €20 to help the fundraiser along further! And reblog/share the campaign so that others who can donate may see it!
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