Help Mahmoud and His Family Survive 137245

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My name is Mahmoud Basem, from Gaza. I'm 20 years old and studying multimedia at university.

I never imagined I'd ask for help to save myself and my family from this horror, but this is my last chance!

Nothing describes the daily experience we live in. We live in shelters, in a canvas tent.

Two months into the war, we were asked to evacuate. My house was bombed, and I tried to take my computer, which I considered my gateway to the future, but it was destroyed under the rubble, and I couldn't save it. I couldn't even take my winter clothes because of the constant bombing around us. Each of us was thinking about survival!

We are two families. The first family consists of five members: my father, my mother, and my brothers. The first is Mohammed, who is married, and the second is me. I have a sister named Ibtisam, who is also married, and her husband is a prisoner in the occupation's prisons. We brought her into our tent.

Ibtisam's family consists of six members: Islam (15), Aseel (13), Moatasem (11), Ibrahim (10), Eileen (4), and Tasneem (6 months).

I don't know where to begin, but I'll start with the story of my niece, Tasneem, because she matters more to me than myself. Her inner voice says:

My name is Tasneem!


While I was a fetus in my mother's womb, rejoicing in my father's touch, patting it tenderly, the war on Gaza began. The occupation demolished our home, arrested my father, and displaced my mother and siblings.

At the time, my father didn't know if I was a boy or a girl. I was born six months later, suffering from malnutrition and exhaustion, a result of the anxiety my mother felt after my father's arrest.

I was born in a tent instead of a hospital, amidst the sound of bombs and airstrikes. I took my first breath and entered this world without seeing my father to celebrate my birth. No one called the adhan (call to prayer) in my little ear, and I felt nothing but my mother's touch, her tears streaming down her cheeks. I was even denied the right to decent clothing.

Oh, the warm embrace of my father would make up for all the warmth of the world's clothes. I grew up homeless, without milk or diapers, wishing my father would bring them to me.

And now, here I am, crawling, and I will soon take my first steps without holding my father's fingers, saying the word "dad" in this cold, homeless winter.

The question remains:
Will my father know of my existence and identity while he is detained by the occupation, or will I remain a stranger in his thoughts and memory?
How long will I live without seeing him?

I share this letter with you after a year of war and reflection, driven by despair, as I now believe this is our only way to survive. The burden of protecting my family weighs heavily on me.

Now I'm suffering from hunger, fear, and psychological pressure, and I keep asking myself:

Will the war end like the seven wars I've experienced?
Will the life we dream of in our homeland ever return?

Shortly after, another test of this little girl's strength came. Tasneem suddenly began suffering from a strange skin disease, and her condition worsened day by day. She couldn't help but smile despite the pain, and all we could do was pray that this ordeal would pass.


She revealed that the reason for her deteriorating health was "insect bites that live in the tent." Yes, those insects that had turned our temporary shelter into a prison. The skin disease affected her skin, worsening her condition until she was unable to see.


As for us, we have lost our ability to act. In this tragic situation, we are unable to provide Tasneem with the treatment she needs. The medications she needs are expensive, and with their rising prices, they have become unaffordable. We are unable to provide the treatment that might help her regain her health.

As for Ibrahim, one day, as he walked beside me on our way back from the market, we didn’t know that a single moment would change everything.

Suddenly, we heard the sound of a missile landing nearby, and the ground shook beneath our feet. Debris flew through the air, accompanied by Ibrahim’s scream—a scream I will never forget.

I looked at him and saw him bleeding from his mouth. A deep, painful wound, and the blood wouldn't stop. We rushed him to the nearest emergency room. After a long ordeal between hospitals and destroyed roads, doctors confirmed that his mouth injury was complex, resulting in torn tissue and the loss of several teeth.

Today, Ibrahim can’t speak normally and can’t eat without pain.
The doctors said his condition requires delicate surgery and a series of expensive treatments that we can’t afford.
He needs plastic surgery and special care.

We urgently ask for your help to provide food and medicine for Tasneem and Ibrahim, and the necessities of life for my parents, sister, and the rest of the family.

My dream is to complete my college education while keeping my family safe.
I am committed to completing my college education while prioritizing the safety and well-being of my family. It is important to me to pursue my educational goals, but I also recognize the importance of keeping my loved ones safe during these difficult times. I will take all necessary precautions and make responsible decisions to effectively balance these priorities.

Despite all this, I haven't lost hope.
I am using the Chuffed platform to raise funds to provide:

My dream is not dead—but I need someone to help me achieve it.