A Plea for Life: Help Ibrahim's Family Rise from Gaza's Ashes

My name is Roba, and I’m Palestinian-British born and raised in Gaza and raising urgent funds for my maternal family who remain in Gaza—specifically Ibrahim, Ahmad, Yasmine, Eisa and their families. (Read description below)

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My name is Ibrahim, and I’m a third-generation refugee and journalism student from northern Gaza, where I lived my whole life under the Israeli occupation. 

Since the beginning of Israeli genocide on Gaza, we have lost our homes, loved ones, businesses and health. The war disrupted our lives and university education. Our days are consumed by struggle to find safe shelter, food, water, and medicine.

Despite the UN declaration of famine in Gaza, Israel has escalated its attacks on Gaza City amid threats to invade, rendering our futures ever-more uncertain.

I currently live with my 70-year-old mother and my sisters Du’aa and Asmaa. Under persisting conditions of indiscriminate bombing and deliberate starvation, we are displaced in Gaza City, hungry, exhausted and broken by endless displacement, relentless bombings, and an apocalyptic reality that crushes us daily. 

Olders siblings of mine, such as Ahmad, Yasmine and Eisa, struggle even more with bigger families and no source of income. While humanitarian aid continues to be blocked, prices for the little that remain in the market are skyrocketing. Under these inhumane conditions, Ahmad is anticipating his first child, while Eisa cares for 6 and Yasmine cares for 8. This fundraiser is a lifeline to us all. 

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It all started with the first Israeli invasion of north Gaza in October 2023…

2 days after our first displacement, our home was bombed — we barely survived. My family was dispersed. My brother Ahmad stayed in the north while I fled with the rest of my family to my uncle’s house in Nuseirat and stayed there for 2 months. We then fled to Rafah, ending up in a tent for over 5 months without access to clean water, enough food, or basic medicine. For a few weeks, I had to flee alone to Dir al-Balah.

After a temporary ceasefire, we decided to return to our home in the north. A one-hour journey took 24 hours to complete due to Israeli checkpoints and overwhelming destruction of civil infrastructures. My mother and other elderly people suffered the whole way — no toilets, no dignity, no humanity. We were forced to relieve ourselves in open fields… It was humiliating and painful.

When we arrived, we found our home partially destroyed. Our return and reunion with our loved ones who remained in the north was the only shining light that helped us cope with the grief and destruction surrounding us. We gathered ourselves to rebuild what we could with our bare hands and hold onto what little hope we had left.

But when the war resumed, it hit us harder than ever. On the very first night, we were once again displaced — this time to western Gaza. Two months later, we received the devastating news: “Your building has been completely destroyed.”

This building was a home to my mother and single sisters, my brothers and their families, as well as my cousin and their families. 

 We didn’t just lose walls — we lost family

On 5 November 2023, my mother lost both of her sister Hanan. In the same month, on the 22nd, Israel killed her other sister Suad and her nephew Hussein in an Israeli airstrike on their home in Jabalia. They also killed my cousin Mohammed Al-Tahrawi alongside his son Malik on 14 April 2024, and my cousin Haniya Abusalama, who joined her husband Marwan and children Yousef and Wasim on 2 January 2024.

There are few among dozens of other relatives, friends and loved ones we lost during the genocide. These weren’t just names. They were our heart, our support network, our memories.

Today, we're on the edge of survival.

• We’ve lost everything we owned. My family are all displaced under dire conditions.
• We’ve lost weight and strength — our bodies are breaking down from lack of food, medicine, and clean water.
• There’s no electricity, income or hope, as the siege tightens and hunger deepens.

We are only asking for a life of dignity. 

Help my family escape this relentless nightmare, to live like human beings again, to provide medicine for our sick and elderly, to rebuild our lives and restore our dignity. 

Every bit of support, no matter how small, is a light in this overwhelming darkness.