Help Jihan, a sole survivor of her family to get food and treatment
Germany
We are Hamouda and Jinan, parents of 3 young children and we took an orphnaned child Jihan into our family. Jihans house was bombed and she is the sole survivor of a family of 18 people. We actually live in east Gaza City and have no possibility to leave. We don’t have access to aid or community kitchen and have to buy expensive food on the market. Therefore we need your help to get food for the Jihan and the children. Please support us, every small amount will give us hope in this struggle. And if you can’t give, please share our story so that more people can get in touch with us. Thank you.
This Text was written by Hamouda about his experience of the tragic night when Jihans house was bombed:
The Last Echo
Jihan, a name that carries within it a spring flower, but her spring had dissipated at the dawn of an unforgettable day. In the heart of resilient Gaza, where the sound of the sea formed the backdrop to a peaceful life, lived Jihan. One night, unlike any other, Jihan fell asleep after a long conversation with her twin sister Nour about their future dreams. Nour wanted to become a doctor, and Jihan dreamed of being a teacher who would bring smiles to children’s faces.
Deep into the night, an unprecedented sound pierced the neighborhood: a terrifying metallic roar followed by a violent tremor that didn’t spare them even a moment. There was no time to scream, no time to move, no time to think. In an instant, the house that had once been a warm fortress was reduced to rubble and ash.
Jihan woke up in pitch darkness, dust choking her breath. She felt an immense pressure on her chest and legs. She tried to move, to scream, but her voice was muted. She heard only a faint groan in the distance, then silence… a horrific silence that swallowed all sounds, all groans.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jihan managed to free her hand with great difficulty. She began digging with her bloody fingernails, pushing small stones and dirt away from her face. The air was heavy, saturated with the smell of death and destruction. She called out, “Baba… Mama… Nour?” But there was no answer. Only the painful echo of her voice echoed back to her in the void.
When she managed to emerge from the rubble, she found herself in a surreal scene. What had been her home was gone. There was a huge crater, scattered debris, and incredible destruction. The dim light of dawn began to reveal the details of the disaster. Her neighbors, who had rushed to help, searched the rubble with pale faces, their eyes weeping silently.
Jihan stopped, her small body trembling, her eyes staring into the void. Her family members were gone. There was no sign of her father, her mother, or Nour’s laughter. They were all gone. She was alone. Completely alone.
Long hours passed, and Jihan sat amid the ruins of her life, silent, paralyzed by shock. The neighbors tried to pull her out, to offer her a helping hand, but she was like a small statue, seeing and hearing nothing, only feeling the cold emptiness around her.
Hunger began to gnaw at her insides, and thirst burned her throat. But the greatest pain was in her soul, the pain of loss that overwhelmed every physical sensation. “I want food… I want water…” she whispered in a barely audible voice, raising her withered eyes to the sky, where nothing but clouds gathered, as if crying with her for her bombed-out childhood and for her family, now a memory.
Jihan, now alone, searched for a caring hand, a caring heart, a drop of water and food that would give her the strength to survive in her world that had been turned upside down. It became the last echo of a home that was once teeming with life.
Sword Nation
-
$10,000.00
Funding Goal -
$0.00
Funds Raised -
0
Days to go -
Campaign Never Ends
Campaign End Method
Product Description
Germany
We are Hamouda and Jinan, parents of 3 young children and we took an orphnaned child Jihan into our family. Jihans house was bombed and she is the sole survivor of a family of 18 people. We actually live in east Gaza City and have no possibility to leave. We don’t have access to aid or community kitchen and have to buy expensive food on the market. Therefore we need your help to get food for the Jihan and the children. Please support us, every small amount will give us hope in this struggle. And if you can’t give, please share our story so that more people can get in touch with us. Thank you.
This Text was written by Hamouda about his experience of the tragic night when Jihans house was bombed:
The Last Echo
Jihan, a name that carries within it a spring flower, but her spring had dissipated at the dawn of an unforgettable day. In the heart of resilient Gaza, where the sound of the sea formed the backdrop to a peaceful life, lived Jihan. One night, unlike any other, Jihan fell asleep after a long conversation with her twin sister Nour about their future dreams. Nour wanted to become a doctor, and Jihan dreamed of being a teacher who would bring smiles to children’s faces.
Deep into the night, an unprecedented sound pierced the neighborhood: a terrifying metallic roar followed by a violent tremor that didn’t spare them even a moment. There was no time to scream, no time to move, no time to think. In an instant, the house that had once been a warm fortress was reduced to rubble and ash.
Jihan woke up in pitch darkness, dust choking her breath. She felt an immense pressure on her chest and legs. She tried to move, to scream, but her voice was muted. She heard only a faint groan in the distance, then silence… a horrific silence that swallowed all sounds, all groans.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jihan managed to free her hand with great difficulty. She began digging with her bloody fingernails, pushing small stones and dirt away from her face. The air was heavy, saturated with the smell of death and destruction. She called out, “Baba… Mama… Nour?” But there was no answer. Only the painful echo of her voice echoed back to her in the void.
When she managed to emerge from the rubble, she found herself in a surreal scene. What had been her home was gone. There was a huge crater, scattered debris, and incredible destruction. The dim light of dawn began to reveal the details of the disaster. Her neighbors, who had rushed to help, searched the rubble with pale faces, their eyes weeping silently.
Jihan stopped, her small body trembling, her eyes staring into the void. Her family members were gone. There was no sign of her father, her mother, or Nour’s laughter. They were all gone. She was alone. Completely alone.
Long hours passed, and Jihan sat amid the ruins of her life, silent, paralyzed by shock. The neighbors tried to pull her out, to offer her a helping hand, but she was like a small statue, seeing and hearing nothing, only feeling the cold emptiness around her.
Hunger began to gnaw at her insides, and thirst burned her throat. But the greatest pain was in her soul, the pain of loss that overwhelmed every physical sensation. “I want food… I want water…” she whispered in a barely audible voice, raising her withered eyes to the sky, where nothing but clouds gathered, as if crying with her for her bombed-out childhood and for her family, now a memory.
Jihan, now alone, searched for a caring hand, a caring heart, a drop of water and food that would give her the strength to survive in her world that had been turned upside down. It became the last echo of a home that was once teeming with life.
Sword Nation
| ID | Name | Amount | |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1244 | Listing Agent | [email protected] | |
| 1215 | Listing Agent | [email protected] |
