Displaced Mother of Four
United States
MAHA’S STORY
I am Maha, a mother of four children from Gaza. Our life was simple. My husband and I tried to provide for our children what we could, but the war robbed us of everything, even our most basic rights to live with dignity. Our home, which embraced my children’s laughter, was turned into rubble. We no longer owned anything: no shelter, no safety, not even enough to feed our children.
My children used to go to school and dream of a better future, but the occupation killed that dream. Their education was halted, and the school, which was a beacon of knowledge, was turned into a shelter we sought from the bombing. No desks, no books, no teachers. School became a place of sleep and fear, not of learning and hope. Instead of carrying their books and backpacks, they ran after cut-off water, searching for a drink to quench our thirst.
They collected firewood from the streets so we could light a fire to cook the little we had. They no longer knew the meaning of play, rest, or even childhood. My children suffered in silence, their psychological state deteriorating day by day. Fear never leaves their eyes, and anxiety dwells in their little hearts. They don’t ask about new toys, they ask if we’ll eat tomorrow, if the bombing will stop tonight.
Every day we try to cling to what little hope remains, but poverty and famine follow us wherever we go. Every day that passes is more difficult than the one before it. And every night that passes, we don’t know if we’ll live to see the next day. I appeal to every living heart, every person capable of helping—help us stand up again. We need food, shelter, medicine for our weary souls, a chance for my children to return to school, to regain their right to life.
Sara Badreddine
-
$20,000.00
Funding Goal -
$0.00
Funds Raised -
0
Days to go -
Campaign Never Ends
Campaign End Method
Product Description
United States
MAHA’S STORY
I am Maha, a mother of four children from Gaza. Our life was simple. My husband and I tried to provide for our children what we could, but the war robbed us of everything, even our most basic rights to live with dignity. Our home, which embraced my children’s laughter, was turned into rubble. We no longer owned anything: no shelter, no safety, not even enough to feed our children.
My children used to go to school and dream of a better future, but the occupation killed that dream. Their education was halted, and the school, which was a beacon of knowledge, was turned into a shelter we sought from the bombing. No desks, no books, no teachers. School became a place of sleep and fear, not of learning and hope. Instead of carrying their books and backpacks, they ran after cut-off water, searching for a drink to quench our thirst.
They collected firewood from the streets so we could light a fire to cook the little we had. They no longer knew the meaning of play, rest, or even childhood. My children suffered in silence, their psychological state deteriorating day by day. Fear never leaves their eyes, and anxiety dwells in their little hearts. They don’t ask about new toys, they ask if we’ll eat tomorrow, if the bombing will stop tonight.
Every day we try to cling to what little hope remains, but poverty and famine follow us wherever we go. Every day that passes is more difficult than the one before it. And every night that passes, we don’t know if we’ll live to see the next day. I appeal to every living heart, every person capable of helping—help us stand up again. We need food, shelter, medicine for our weary souls, a chance for my children to return to school, to regain their right to life.
Sara Badreddine
| ID | Name | Amount | |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1244 | Listing Agent | [email protected] | |
| 1215 | Listing Agent | [email protected] |
