My sister and her family are among the countless souls trying to survive. They’ve fled Gaza City three times now, each time hoping the next place will be safe. Like so many others, they’ve been forced south, carrying nothing but hope and heartbreak.
Since our last message in May, the situation in Gaza has worsened beyond what words can fully express. The war continues—not with resolution, but with relentless suffering. And now, starvation has become one of its cruellest weapons.
More than 100 humanitarian organizations have sounded the alarm: Gaza is facing mass starvation 1. Over 111 people, including more than 70 children, have died from famine and malnutrition in recent weeks1 2. Families are collapsing from hunger. Aid workers, doctors, and journalists are now standing in the same food lines as those they serve, risking their lives just to feed their children 3.
Markets are empty. Clean water is scarce. Illnesses like acute diarrhoea are spreading rapidly. Children are telling their parents they want to go to heaven—because “at least heaven has food”.
Despite these horrors, your support continues to be a lifeline. It is food for the hungry, warmth for the displaced.
Your generosity is not just kindness—it is survival. It is a stand against despair. It is a message to Gaza: You are not forgotten.
Please continue to stand with us. Every donation, every share, every word of solidarity matters.
The war does not end—it simply shifts, twisting into new forms of suffering. Once, we held onto hope that each sunrise might bring peace, that silence might replace the thunder of explosions. But now, survival is our only certainty.
Every day is a battle. The streets that once echoed with laughter are now filled with the heavy footsteps of those searching for scraps of normalcy. The struggle is no longer just about escaping danger—it is about enduring it. It is about facing hunger, cold, and despair while clinging to the memories of what life used to be.
We wake each morning to uncertainty, wondering if today will be the day relief comes, or if it will be another day of fighting against forces beyond our control. But despite the hardship, we refuse to give up. We refuse to let fear define us. We refuse to be forgotten.
This picture shows Mohammed waiting for the internet connection to join his online class.
Your support is more than just kindness—it is survival. It is warmth in the cold. It is hope in the darkness. It is a reminder that even in war, humanity persists.
