Help Amani and her family to rebuild a life!
Hello, my name is Amani. I’m 26 and I'm an English teacher from the northern part of the Gaza Strip.
Our parents are Mahmoud and Khitam and they raised 7 children: I have two older sisters, Rawan and Yasmee, who are married, and have two children each; a younger sister named Saja, she is 22 years old and she is a student in multimedia and graphic design; a brother named Ahmed, who is 20 and studying nursery at the University of Palestine; We had an other brother named Mohammed but he sadly passed away recently. He was 17. Our younger brother is called Ayham and he is twelve. Our life was normal and calm until it all disappeared.
For more than 6 months, my family and I have endured the most difficult struggle for survival of our lives. We have been displaced over 5 times and are currently living amidst a war in Gaza. This war marks the fifth conflict I have lived through in my 26 years of life. Sadly, I have lost my home and my job, leaving me to wonder about the fate of the children I used to teach —are they dead or alive?
We lost everything. My family had a home, but now we are homeless with nowhere else to go after our house was completely burned down and destroyed.
My family and I have no political affiliations. We want to live in peace. We love our land and wish to remain on it. However, the sheer fatigue of this harsh lifestyle is unsustainable, and the mental anguish would wear down even the most resilient.
Until October 7th, 2023, the day that changed the entire landscape of our lives and paralyzed our days. We were unable to contact the outside world for several weeks due to power and internet outages. As a result, we couldn’t contact our friends and family for several days and didn’t know if they were still alive or if death had taken them from us. We couldn’t easily shop to find food and drink supplies.
On the night of October 19th, 2023, the Israeli Defense Forces called one of the residents of our city to inform him that the city needed to be completely evacuated so they could bomb it. We were only one street away when we heard the sound of our homes collapsing under the weight of war missiles. I still remember when one of the residents of the city ran down the street, screaming at the top of his lungs to warn others that the entire city would be destroyed within hours and we must immediately leave our homes and move away. We left our home at night, and the streets were dark, except for the light from the explosions above our heads.
We spent that night in the street, while war machines in the air and sea threw bombs from all directions, at us and our homes. The sounds aroused terror and sadness in our lungs, lungs filled with the residues of gunpowder and fire.
On the morning of October 20, 2023, we left our city with heavy hearts, mourning the sight of our city and our home, which was nothing but rubble piled by the side of the road, with no opportunity to bid it farewell or approach it. We departed in the most dreadful manner, walking on foot after a sleepless night, to reach my married sister's house in the Nusirat refugee camp before noon.
Since then, displacement and evacuation in Gaza have become a daily reality for its residents, leaving psychological scars in the form of continuous anxiety and panic attacks. My family and I struggled to sleep well or feel safe and stable.
After two weeks of staying with my sister, the cycle of displacement repeated itself as we were forced to evacuate once again, this time to Rafah, south of Gaza City, where we stayed for nearly two months. During those months, we lived in a small tent that offered little protection from the harsh cold, and despite falling ill due to the freezing winter weather, we were unable to access proper medical treatment. Circumstances eventually compelled us to leave Rafah and return to the Nusirat camp, which has been subjected to frequent targeting and shelling. Uncertainty looms over our future, as we do not know where the next stage of displacement will take us. Will we remain in Gaza City, or will we spend the summer in a tent in Rafah?
We are living poor healthcare and the spread of diseases and epidemics, the phenomenon of queuing to secure the essentials of food and drink, living inside tents in the cold season, drinking water pollution that has caused us digestive problems, chronic diseases, and hearing the sound of bombs continuously without stopping for several days.
The news and the social media cannot reflect the feelings of the moments of displacement and evacuation that we felt as we left our home and city, all while we knew in our hearts that we wouldn’t return to them anytime soon. It is very dangerous, with the shelling surrounding us from all sides, and at any moment we can meet death. They can't capture how we wake up, for over 191 days now, to the same sounds of war, and the first thing that comes to mind is whether you will survive today or not, and pray that no harm befalls you from all the bombing. You cannot possibly comprehend the negative effects the war had on us, or comprehend the enormity of the panic attacks we suffered—and still do.
We want to leave the Gaza Strip and reach a safe place away from death, to start building our lives over again and get a sense of security and stability, while providing the essentials of living for me and my family.
We have lost our brother, Mohammed, who was 17 years old. He was diagnosed with leukemia and was receiving chemotherapy doses at Rambam Hospital in the occupied territories. However, due to the war, Mohammed couldn't access treatment or travel abroad. I'm very afraid of losing anyone else from my family.
We want to see the other side of life and we don't want to continue living this lifestyle, filled with fear and death.
I want to see my brothers and my sister graduate and live a normal life.
I want to see my nieces and nephews have a normal, safe and happy childhood.
I don't want to see death approaching us more and more every day or even steal someone from my family, and I don't want to get used to the sound of war machines and shelling that I hear now as I write.
Thank you for reading our story. If you want to help, every amount will be useful.
The cost of travel for one person to leave Gaza through paid coordination is between $5'000 to $10,000 US (approx. $13,450 CAD), and this cost increases every day.
We need to cover our basic needs as well as the needs of our 4 little nephews and nieces (Jamal & Joan, the children of my sister Rowan and Amal & Islam, the children of Yasmeen). They need food, milk, diapers, and other necessities. They have been deprived of education in kindergartens and playing from their childhood. We will also need to find a new home and rent a place because our house has been destroyed.
Thank you for your time and help, even if it was with prayers for us to escape this war or by sharing the link with your community.
Amani
