From the Heart of a Tent: Iman Refuses to Let Her Dream Fade
"I am Iman. I am seven years old—and three of those years have been swallowed by war."
I used to be a little girl playing in a room filled with shades of purple and pink, dreaming of my classroom and my teacher, Sheimaa. Today, I find myself fighting for survival inside a tent:
In Winter: The winds tear at our roof, and the rain floods our lives.
In Summer: We wither under the scorching heat, sleeping in fear of insects and crawling shadows.
My simplest dream? To stand under a real shower like other children around the world, instead of bathing with a small tin cup.
The Greatest Pain: The Silence of the World, and My Own
The deafening explosions have stolen my ability to hear clearly. I have the medical reports to prove it. But even through the muffled silence, the voice of my dream remains loud. I have returned to school because I refuse to be broken; I have decided to be educated and strong. I will not let this war execute my childhood.
I am strong. I am full of hope. But will I find someone to lean on?
Help me restore my hearing. Help me live with dignity, far from the suffocating heat of the tents and the cruelty of displacement.
