‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸

Gaza, 2025. Le mot "vivre" n’a plus le même sens.

Depuis le 7 octobre, l’enfer s’est abattu sur une population déjà meurtrie par des années de blocus, de pauvreté et d’abandons. Plus de 2 millions de personnes sont prises au piège, sans abri, sans eau potable, sans nourriture, sans soins, sans électricité. Le système de santé est effondré. L’aide humanitaire est bloquée. Des familles entières meurent de faim, d’épuisement ou sous les bombes.

Parmi elles, celle de Shaker Safi, un adolescent de 15 ans.

> "J’étais plein de vie… et tout s’est écroulé. Mon père est mort dans un bombardement, notre maison a été détruite. Depuis, on vit dans une tente avec ma mère, mon frère et mes sœurs. Il n’y a ni toilettes, ni eau, ni quoi que ce soit pour dormir ou manger. On a fui plusieurs fois, on a tout perdu. Aujourd’hui, on a besoin de vous pour ne pas mourir de faim."

Comme Shaker, des milliers d’enfants ont tout perdu : un parent, un toit, une école, leurs repères. Ils dorment sur le sable, boivent de l’eau sale, cherchent désespérément un peu de pain. Le bruit des drones, la peur constante, la faim qui creuse : voilà leur quotidien.

Vous pouvez faire une différence.

Chaque euro, chaque don, même minime, est un acte de vie. Il permet d’offrir un repas, une couverture, un bidon d’eau, un peu de réconfort. Il permet de dire à Shaker : tu n’es pas seul.

---

Shaker, 15, a Survivor in Gaza – Help His Family Stay Alive

Gaza, 2025. The word “living” has lost its meaning.

Since October 7, hell has descended on an already devastated population. Over 2 million people are trapped in ruins—no shelter, no clean water, no food, no electricity, no medical care. The health system has collapsed. Aid is blocked. Families are starving, dying from exhaustion or under the bombs.

Among them is Shaker Safi, a 15-year-old boy.

> "I used to be full of life… then everything crumbled. I lost my father in a bombing. Our home was destroyed. Now I live in a tent with my mother, brother, and sisters. We have nothing—no food, no water, no place to sleep. We've had to flee multiple times. We’ve lost everything. We need your help to survive."

Like Shaker, thousands of children in Gaza have lost everything: parents, homes, schools, and any sense of safety. They sleep on dirt floors, drink unsafe water, and search in vain for a piece of bread. The sound of drones, constant fear, and hunger are their daily companions.

You can make a difference.

Every donation—no matter how small—is an act of humanity. It can offer food, water, warmth, and hope. It tells Shaker: You are not alone.

A Humanitarian Appeal from a Grieving Mother

I am Hanadi from Gaza, the mother of a family of five. Our house was bombed, and in an instant, my daughter was lost under the rubble. My second daughter was seriously injured, resulting in the amputation of her leg.

We are living in extremely difficult conditions today, and we need urgent assistance to secure treatment and provide for our basic needs after we have lost everything.

I present my case to you, and I hope that those with compassionate hearts will extend a helping hand with financial support.

I have nothing left.

My home was bombed before my eyes. I ran barefoot, holding my daughter, as smoke filled the air…

Now, we live in a tent. My husband is injured, I’m pregnant, and I have nothing to feed my daughter.

Every day begins with fear and ends with hunger.

I once dreamed of a warm home, a simple life, safety for my child…

But everything is gone. Our lives have become a fight to survive.

If my words reach you, please don’t scroll past in silence.

Share this. Help us. Be a small light in this overwhelming darkness.

Here’s the donation link:

From the depths of my broken heart… thank you to everyone who shares, prays, or helps in any way 💔

@gazavetters @gaza-evacuation-funds @palesttino @palestbaby @freegazas-posts @freepalestinneee @help-palestine-free @helpingmosshands @children-of-everfree

Leah from Gaza 💔

The war took everything…

My home, my room, my toys… and my safety.

Now I live in a tent with Mama and Papa.

Papa is injured, Mama is pregnant, and we have no food.

Mama needs to give birth soon, but she can’t afford the operation.

The doctor said it costs $300… and we have nothing.

So far, Mama raised 260$ out of 7000$.

With your help… we can make it 🙏

Please help us be safe… Please help us live.

@amnhnyc @artphotocollector @amandla @montereybayaquarium @moringmark @mysharona1987 @mysharona1987 @mysillycomics @mysharona1987 @mysillycomics @britneyspears @badjokesbyjeff @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses @betterbooktitles @hillbillymagazine @herochan @hollowtones @h @hangulteam @joshpeck @janblue @justinspoliticalcorner @junkirat @justapieceintheirgames @umameva @usareis @yuumei-art @yurimom @yesitsanusha @one-time-i-dreamt @outofcontextdnd @oldpaintings @oneofthosecrazycatladies @odinsblog @lensblr-network @lunchbagart @liberalsarecool @lindagoesmushrooming @lmaonade @fuckyeahfluiddynamics @fannyrosie @feefal @fridacashflow @vewn @vividplanet @virovac @van1ties @zone0neko @zenkaiankoku @zmije @p

My name is Adham, I'm 20 years old, and I'm from Gaza City. I dreamed of a happy life, completing my studies, and getting a job, but the war turned this dream into something impossible 💔😭. We lived through this massacre in all its painful details, and we're still in pain 😔. We were very happy when the ceasefire was announced, and we returned to our homes in northern Gaza after being displaced for a year and a half in a tent in the southern Gaza Strip. After we fixed a small room in our destroyed house to live in and start over, unfortunately the war returned stronger than before 💔. Now, we have no shelter and no source of income. We exhausted all our savings during the war. I know that I started my campaign very late, but that's because there is no other way to help my family 🙏. I am completely confident and optimistic that someone here will help us as much as they can and save my family in these difficult circumstances 😔.

Even a small donation would have a great impact on us 🥺. May God bless you, my friend 🥰❤️

My name is Adham, I'm 20 years old, and I'm from Gaza City. I dreamed of a happy life, completing my studies, and getting a job, but the war turned this dream into something impossible 💔😭. We lived through this massacre in all its painful details, and we're still in pain 😔. We were very happy when the ceasefire was announced, and we returned to our homes in northern Gaza after being displaced for a year and a half in a tent in the southern Gaza Strip. After we fixed a small room in our destroyed house to live in and start over, unfortunately the war returned stronger than before 💔. Now, we have no shelter and no source of income. We exhausted all our savings during the war. I know that I started my campaign very late, but that's because there is no other way to help my family 🙏. I am completely confident and optimistic that someone here will help us as much as they can and save my family in these difficult circumstances 😔.

Even a small donation would have a great impact on us 🥺. May God bless you, my friend 🥰❤️.

"I am Wissam... The last time I hugged someone, it was a corpse." 😭💔

The night was very long that day. I was counting the days until I would give birth to my twins. I brought them names, and planned to wrap my body around them when the tents grew cold. But death was faster. 😭

We fled our home under shelling, and my father was in the hospital, unable to stand. I told them, "My father can't move." The soldier said, "It doesn't matter, leave." So we left... and my father was left alone, until his heart closed forever. 😔💔

On the way south, I walked for hours carrying two children in my belly, a bag in my hand, and the rest of my memories on my back.

I bled on the way.

I lost my twins there, on the asphalt, in front of my other children who couldn't even cry. 😭😭

The next day, I woke up and found them buried under the sand. No grave, no names.

Now, I'm seven months pregnant with my third child.

But anemia is tearing me apart, stress is breaking my head, and hunger is eating away at what's left of me.

I feel my baby pleading with me from within: "Mother, don't die."

And I apologize to him every day... because I can't promise him life.

“I am Wissam… I lost my father, my children, my home, and even my voice.

I don’t want to lose this child too.

Help me before I become another memory in this broken land.

My father was the only one I could place all my hopes and dreams on. He was the one who lifted me up whenever I fell, and held my hand when my steps faltered. In those dark days of war, I saw him strong in front of me. Even in moments of silence, his presence was enough to make me feel safe. He wasn't just the father I loved, he was my refuge, the hope I lived by. 😭💔

But one day, suddenly, that hope disappeared.

The sky was covered with heavy clouds, as if it knew what was going to happen. That day, I was at home, climbing on my tiptoes, holding on to any glimmer of hope, but when I entered our small room, I found my mother in the corner of the room crying, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears, and her mouth almost unable to speak. 💔😭

I couldn't believe what she was saying. My father, who had always been the strength in my life, was gone. In an instant, everything disappeared, and the words kept repeating in my head without me being able to understand them. "He's not coming back." Those words were harder than any blow I had ever received in my life. 😭😭

I felt like I was in a dark dream. How could my father disappear like that? How could time go on without his voice, without me seeing his face again? How much I needed him in those moments, how much I needed to hear his words of reassurance. But it was all over, and all that remained was the silence filling the emptiness around me. 💔

Every corner of the house became a tragedy. Everything reminded me of him, every corner, every smell, everything. I thought I would lose my ability to breathe. His absence was heavier than anything else. I cannot imagine a world without him, and I cannot see a future without his advice, without a hand to lift me up whenever I feel like I am drowning.

As I sit here, in that dark room, I remember everything about my father. How he used to laugh when I made small mistakes, how he used to hug me when the world was dark, and how his words filled my life with meaning. But now he's not here, and the emptiness in my heart can't be filled with anything else. Every time I close my eyes, I see him in every corner. I feel him, but I can't touch him. And despite all the pain, despite all the sadness, I know he's not coming back, that he's left me in this world, to face it alone.

He's gone, but a part of him, a part of his soul, will remain in my heart forever. Even though I can't hear his voice or see him, I carry his memories with me every step of the way, every moment. I've lost him, but I can never forget him.😭😔

Share my campaign 🙏

"I am Wissam... The last time I hugged someone, it was a corpse." 😭💔

The night was very long that day. I was counting the days until I would give birth to my twins. I brought them names, and planned to wrap my body around them when the tents grew cold. But death was faster. 😭

We fled our home under shelling, and my father was in the hospital, unable to stand. I told them, "My father can't move." The soldier said, "It doesn't matter, leave." So we left... and my father was left alone, until his heart closed forever. 😔💔

On the way south, I walked for hours carrying two children in my belly, a bag in my hand, and the rest of my memories on my back.

I bled on the way.

I lost my twins there, on the asphalt, in front of my other children who couldn't even cry. 😭😭

The next day, I woke up and found them buried under the sand. No grave, no names.

Now, I'm seven months pregnant with my third child.

But anemia is tearing me apart, stress is breaking my head, and hunger is eating away at what's left of me.

I feel my baby pleading with me from within: "Mother, don't die."

And I apologize to him every day... because I can't promise him life.

“I am Wissam… I lost my father, my children, my home, and even my voice.

I don’t want to lose this child too.

Help me before I become another memory in this broken land.

My father was the only one I could place all my hopes and dreams on. He was the one who lifted me up whenever I fell, and held my hand when my steps faltered. In those dark days of war, I saw him strong in front of me. Even in moments of silence, his presence was enough to make me feel safe. He wasn't just the father I loved, he was my refuge, the hope I lived by. 😭💔

But one day, suddenly, that hope disappeared.

The sky was covered with heavy clouds, as if it knew what was going to happen. That day, I was at home, climbing on my tiptoes, holding on to any glimmer of hope, but when I entered our small room, I found my mother in the corner of the room crying, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears, and her mouth almost unable to speak. 💔😭

I couldn't believe what she was saying. My father, who had always been the strength in my life, was gone. In an instant, everything disappeared, and the words kept repeating in my head without me being able to understand them. "He's not coming back." Those words were harder than any blow I had ever received in my life. 😭😭

I felt like I was in a dark dream. How could my father disappear like that? How could time go on without his voice, without me seeing his face again? How much I needed him in those moments, how much I needed to hear his words of reassurance. But it was all over, and all that remained was the silence filling the emptiness around me. 💔

Every corner of the house became a tragedy. Everything reminded me of him, every corner, every smell, everything. I thought I would lose my ability to breathe. His absence was heavier than anything else. I cannot imagine a world without him, and I cannot see a future without his advice, without a hand to lift me up whenever I feel like I am drowning.

As I sit here, in that dark room, I remember everything about my father. How he used to laugh when I made small mistakes, how he used to hug me when the world was dark, and how his words filled my life with meaning. But now he's not here, and the emptiness in my heart can't be filled with anything else. Every time I close my eyes, I see him in every corner. I feel him, but I can't touch him. And despite all the pain, despite all the sadness, I know he's not coming back, that he's left me in this world, to face it alone.

He's gone, but a part of him, a part of his soul, will remain in my heart forever. Even though I can't hear his voice or see him, I carry his memories with me every step of the way, every moment. I've lost him, but I can never forget him.😭😔

Share my campaign 🙏

"I am Wissam... The last time I hugged someone, it was a corpse." 😭💔

The night was very long that day. I was counting the days until I would give birth to my twins. I brought them names, and planned to wrap my body around them when the tents grew cold. But death was faster. 😭

We fled our home under shelling, and my father was in the hospital, unable to stand. I told them, "My father can't move." The soldier said, "It doesn't matter, leave." So we left... and my father was left alone, until his heart closed forever. 😔💔

On the way south, I walked for hours carrying two children in my belly, a bag in my hand, and the rest of my memories on my back.

I bled on the way.

I lost my twins there, on the asphalt, in front of my other children who couldn't even cry. 😭😭

The next day, I woke up and found them buried under the sand. No grave, no names.

Now, I'm seven months pregnant with my third child.

But anemia is tearing me apart, stress is breaking my head, and hunger is eating away at what's left of me.

I feel my baby pleading with me from within: "Mother, don't die."

And I apologize to him every day... because I can't promise him life.

“I am Wissam… I lost my father, my children, my home, and even my voice.

I don’t want to lose this child too.

Help me before I become another memory in this broken land.

My father was the only one I could place all my hopes and dreams on. He was the one who lifted me up whenever I fell, and held my hand when my steps faltered. In those dark days of war, I saw him strong in front of me. Even in moments of silence, his presence was enough to make me feel safe. He wasn't just the father I loved, he was my refuge, the hope I lived by. 😭💔

But one day, suddenly, that hope disappeared.

The sky was covered with heavy clouds, as if it knew what was going to happen. That day, I was at home, climbing on my tiptoes, holding on to any glimmer of hope, but when I entered our small room, I found my mother in the corner of the room crying, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears, and her mouth almost unable to speak. 💔😭

I couldn't believe what she was saying. My father, who had always been the strength in my life, was gone. In an instant, everything disappeared, and the words kept repeating in my head without me being able to understand them. "He's not coming back." Those words were harder than any blow I had ever received in my life. 😭😭

I felt like I was in a dark dream. How could my father disappear like that? How could time go on without his voice, without me seeing his face again? How much I needed him in those moments, how much I needed to hear his words of reassurance. But it was all over, and all that remained was the silence filling the emptiness around me. 💔

Every corner of the house became a tragedy. Everything reminded me of him, every corner, every smell, everything. I thought I would lose my ability to breathe. His absence was heavier than anything else. I cannot imagine a world without him, and I cannot see a future without his advice, without a hand to lift me up whenever I feel like I am drowning.

As I sit here, in that dark room, I remember everything about my father. How he used to laugh when I made small mistakes, how he used to hug me when the world was dark, and how his words filled my life with meaning. But now he's not here, and the emptiness in my heart can't be filled with anything else. Every time I close my eyes, I see him in every corner. I feel him, but I can't touch him. And despite all the pain, despite all the sadness, I know he's not coming back, that he's left me in this world, to face it alone.

He's gone, but a part of him, a part of his soul, will remain in my heart forever. Even though I can't hear his voice or see him, I carry his memories with me every step of the way, every moment. I've lost him, but I can never forget him.😭😔

Share my campaign 🙏

"I am Wissam... The last time I hugged someone, it was a corpse." 😭💔

The night was very long that day. I was counting the days until I would give birth to my twins. I brought them names, and planned to wrap my body around them when the tents grew cold. But death was faster. 😭

We fled our home under shelling, and my father was in the hospital, unable to stand. I told them, "My father can't move." The soldier said, "It doesn't matter, leave." So we left... and my father was left alone, until his heart closed forever. 😔💔

On the way south, I walked for hours carrying two children in my belly, a bag in my hand, and the rest of my memories on my back.

I bled on the way.

I lost my twins there, on the asphalt, in front of my other children who couldn't even cry. 😭😭

The next day, I woke up and found them buried under the sand. No grave, no names.

Now, I'm seven months pregnant with my third child.

But anemia is tearing me apart, stress is breaking my head, and hunger is eating away at what's left of me.

I feel my baby pleading with me from within: "Mother, don't die."

And I apologize to him every day... because I can't promise him life.

“I am Wissam… I lost my father, my children, my home, and even my voice.

I don’t want to lose this child too.

Help me before I become another memory in this broken land.

My father was the only one I could place all my hopes and dreams on. He was the one who lifted me up whenever I fell, and held my hand when my steps faltered. In those dark days of war, I saw him strong in front of me. Even in moments of silence, his presence was enough to make me feel safe. He wasn't just the father I loved, he was my refuge, the hope I lived by. 😭💔

But one day, suddenly, that hope disappeared.

The sky was covered with heavy clouds, as if it knew what was going to happen. That day, I was at home, climbing on my tiptoes, holding on to any glimmer of hope, but when I entered our small room, I found my mother in the corner of the room crying, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears, and her mouth almost unable to speak. 💔😭

I couldn't believe what she was saying. My father, who had always been the strength in my life, was gone. In an instant, everything disappeared, and the words kept repeating in my head without me being able to understand them. "He's not coming back." Those words were harder than any blow I had ever received in my life. 😭😭

I felt like I was in a dark dream. How could my father disappear like that? How could time go on without his voice, without me seeing his face again? How much I needed him in those moments, how much I needed to hear his words of reassurance. But it was all over, and all that remained was the silence filling the emptiness around me. 💔

Every corner of the house became a tragedy. Everything reminded me of him, every corner, every smell, everything. I thought I would lose my ability to breathe. His absence was heavier than anything else. I cannot imagine a world without him, and I cannot see a future without his advice, without a hand to lift me up whenever I feel like I am drowning.

As I sit here, in that dark room, I remember everything about my father. How he used to laugh when I made small mistakes, how he used to hug me when the world was dark, and how his words filled my life with meaning. But now he's not here, and the emptiness in my heart can't be filled with anything else. Every time I close my eyes, I see him in every corner. I feel him, but I can't touch him. And despite all the pain, despite all the sadness, I know he's not coming back, that he's left me in this world, to face it alone.

He's gone, but a part of him, a part of his soul, will remain in my heart forever. Even though I can't hear his voice or see him, I carry his memories with me every step of the way, every moment. I've lost him, but I can never forget him.😭😔

Share my campaign 🙏

Hello, I'm Asmaa from Gaza.

I was born in 1991.

I'm a girl from a family of seven boys and six girls, and I'm the youngest.

My mother and I live in a house left to us by my father. I studied at university and graduated with a degree in basic education.

I worked in a private job and received a salary that covered my expenses as much as possible.

We were happy until the war came.

The war on Gaza began on October 7, 2023.

Here, hell began for us in Gaza. I lost my job and became unemployed. My mother owns nothing, and I own nothing now.

My mother was displaced to the southern Gaza Strip for 15 months. I didn't go with her. It was months of longing for my mother and siblings.

My brothers, Mahmoud, and Ashraf stayed behind.

We cried several times because I live in the Shuja'iyya neighborhood, a border area close to the army.

During the displacement on June 27, 2024, we left the house and raced down the road to escape the shells and planes. Then came the lightning strike. The shock was that death was faster than my brothers could escape. Here, here, we lost our loved ones. I lost my brothers. I lost my beloved son Mahmoud. Ashraf Mahmoud left no children. As for Ashraf, he left behind his sons who are grieving, and my mother is in pain because they departed to God without saying goodbye, without a kiss on their forehead, a farewell kiss. After a while, we returned home. The house had been severely damaged by demolition and stones that had fallen from their places, which used to shelter us. Now, nothing protects us except some worn-out tarpaulins that do not protect us from the heat of summer or the cold of winter. Our suffering is great, but with your help, we may reach a better life and a dignified life. May God bless you all.

Hello, I'm Asmaa from Gaza.

I was born in 1991.

I'm a girl from a family of seven boys and six girls, and I'm the youngest.

My mother and I live in a house left to us by my father. I studied at university and graduated with a degree in basic education.

I worked in a private job and received a salary that covered my expenses as much as possible.

We were happy until the war came.

The war on Gaza began on October 7, 2023.

Here, hell began for us in Gaza. I lost my job and became unemployed. My mother owns nothing, and I own nothing now.

My mother was displaced to the southern Gaza Strip for 15 months. I didn't go with her. It was months of longing for my mother and siblings.

My brothers, Mahmoud, and Ashraf stayed behind.

We cried several times because I live in the Shuja'iyya neighborhood, a border area close to the army.

During the displacement on June 27, 2024, we left the house and raced down the road to escape the shells and planes. Then came the lightning strike. The shock was that death was faster than my brothers could escape. Here, here, we lost our loved ones. I lost my brothers. I lost my beloved son Mahmoud. Ashraf Mahmoud left no children. As for Ashraf, he left behind his sons who are grieving, and my mother is in pain because they departed to God without saying goodbye, without a kiss on their forehead, a farewell kiss. After a while, we returned home. The house had been severely damaged by demolition and stones that had fallen from their places, which used to shelter us. Now, nothing protects us except some worn-out tarpaulins that do not protect us from the heat of summer or the cold of winter. Our suffering is great, but with your help, we may reach a better life and a dignified life. May God bless you all.

Hello, I'm Asmaa from Gaza.

I was born in 1991.

I'm a girl from a family of seven boys and six girls, and I'm the youngest.

My mother and I live in a house left to us by my father. I studied at university and graduated with a degree in basic education.

I worked in a private job and received a salary that covered my expenses as much as possible.

We were happy until the war came.

The war on Gaza began on October 7, 2023.

Here, hell began for us in Gaza. I lost my job and became unemployed. My mother owns nothing, and I own nothing now.

My mother was displaced to the southern Gaza Strip for 15 months. I didn't go with her. It was months of longing for my mother and siblings.

My brothers, Mahmoud, and Ashraf stayed behind.

We cried several times because I live in the Shuja'iyya neighborhood, a border area close to the army.

During the displacement on June 27, 2024, we left the house and raced down the road to escape the shells and planes. Then came the lightning strike. The shock was that death was faster than my brothers could escape. Here, here, we lost our loved ones. I lost my brothers. I lost my beloved son Mahmoud. Ashraf Mahmoud left no children. As for Ashraf, he left behind his sons who are grieving, and my mother is in pain because they departed to God without saying goodbye, without a kiss on their forehead, a farewell kiss. After a while, we returned home. The house had been severely damaged by demolition and stones that had fallen from their places, which used to shelter us. Now, nothing protects us except some worn-out tarpaulins that do not protect us from the heat of summer or the cold of winter. Our suffering is great, but with your help, we may reach a better life and a dignified life. May God bless you all.