Save Ziyad in Gaza: The story of a disabled child in genocide
United States
Ziyad: The Story of a Child Stolen by War and Illness
In a tattered tent barely standing against the winds in southern Gaza, 11-year-old Ziyad Ayman Alemawi sits quietly. His eyes reflect a mix of innocence, pain from the past, and fear for the future. From the moment he was born, Ziyad’s life was anything but ordinary. Cerebral atrophy had left his frail body weak, making every movement and every word a challenge. Yet, against all odds, there was once a glimmer of hope in his life.
At the age of two, his mother refused to give up on him. She enrolled him in special education centers, where Ziyad began learning the basics of daily life. Slowly but surely, he started speaking his first words and moving with a bit more confidence. For his family, this progress was a small miracle—a sign that he might one day live a fuller life.
But then the war came, as it always does in Gaza, shattering everything in its path. One fateful day, an explosion near their home shook the foundations of Ziyad’s fragile progress. He fell, dislocating his kneecap in a way that left him completely immobile. The pain from the injury became a constant companion, silencing his small victories.
The collapse of Gaza’s healthcare system during the war only deepened his suffering. Hospitals shut down, leaving Ziyad without the therapy and medical care he desperately needed. The World Health Organization later classified his case as “Category C,” requiring urgent surgery abroad. But how could a child living in a tent, without even the basics of life, dream of such a possibility?
Today, Ziyad’s world is confined to that cold, makeshift tent. There is no playground, no classroom, no comfort. His body is weary, his spirit burdened, yet his dream remains heartbreakingly simple: to walk again, to play like other children, to feel, even for a moment, like a normal boy.
Ziyad’s story is not just one of a sick child; it’s a testament to the unrelenting toll of war and deprivation. His pain is a silent cry for help, a reminder of the humanity we cannot ignore. All Ziyad wants is a chance—a chance to heal, to grow, to live.
Claudia Hernandez
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$25,000.00
Funding Goal -
$0.00
Funds Raised -
0
Days to go -
Campaign Never Ends
Campaign End Method
Product Description
United States
Ziyad: The Story of a Child Stolen by War and Illness
In a tattered tent barely standing against the winds in southern Gaza, 11-year-old Ziyad Ayman Alemawi sits quietly. His eyes reflect a mix of innocence, pain from the past, and fear for the future. From the moment he was born, Ziyad’s life was anything but ordinary. Cerebral atrophy had left his frail body weak, making every movement and every word a challenge. Yet, against all odds, there was once a glimmer of hope in his life.
At the age of two, his mother refused to give up on him. She enrolled him in special education centers, where Ziyad began learning the basics of daily life. Slowly but surely, he started speaking his first words and moving with a bit more confidence. For his family, this progress was a small miracle—a sign that he might one day live a fuller life.
But then the war came, as it always does in Gaza, shattering everything in its path. One fateful day, an explosion near their home shook the foundations of Ziyad’s fragile progress. He fell, dislocating his kneecap in a way that left him completely immobile. The pain from the injury became a constant companion, silencing his small victories.
The collapse of Gaza’s healthcare system during the war only deepened his suffering. Hospitals shut down, leaving Ziyad without the therapy and medical care he desperately needed. The World Health Organization later classified his case as “Category C,” requiring urgent surgery abroad. But how could a child living in a tent, without even the basics of life, dream of such a possibility?
Today, Ziyad’s world is confined to that cold, makeshift tent. There is no playground, no classroom, no comfort. His body is weary, his spirit burdened, yet his dream remains heartbreakingly simple: to walk again, to play like other children, to feel, even for a moment, like a normal boy.
Ziyad’s story is not just one of a sick child; it’s a testament to the unrelenting toll of war and deprivation. His pain is a silent cry for help, a reminder of the humanity we cannot ignore. All Ziyad wants is a chance—a chance to heal, to grow, to live.
Claudia Hernandez
| ID | Name | Amount | |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1244 | Listing Agent | [email protected] | |
| 1215 | Listing Agent | [email protected] |
