I am Belal Abed from Gaza – a man whose future once shone bright with hope and promises. With a Bachelor's degree in Software Engineering, I dreamed of pursuing further studies and obtaining a Master's degree in Germany, envisioning a life that would uplift my family and community. But the harshness of war tore that dream apart, leaving nothing but despair behind.

Our home, which was once a haven of hope, was mercilessly destroyed by the ongoing conflict. For over a year now, we have been wandering like displaced souls, forced to live in torn, temporary tents that offer only minimal protection from the scorching summer heat or the biting cold of winter nights. Every day, I witness scenes that shatter my heart, as my children – whose eyes reflect a sadness far beyond their years – suffer from the pain of hunger and the agony of thirst. The scant resources we once possessed have evaporated, leaving us clinging only to memories of a life that now seems so distant.

This is our home before the war

This is our home after the war and destruction

It now stands as a cry of pain, telling a story of relentless devastation, with the walls of ruin bearing witness to the loss of hope.

I before the war: Who I was and what I aspired to be

Before the war, I was a young man full of dreams and ambitions, working hard to carve out a bright future for myself and my family, building hopes without limits.

Today, however, my life has changed; my suffering has become an inseparable part of my reality, and I now see myself through a lens of despair and sorrow.

Now, I live in a tent that lacks even the barest of defenses

I find myself living in a torn tent that offers nothing more than a temporary shelter—a shelter that struggles to provide even minimal protection from the scorching heat of summer and the bitter cold of winter.

This is the state of our children: before the war and after

Before the war, our children’s eyes shone with innocence and joy, dreaming of a bright future like all of us.

Now, however, their eyes bear the traces of sorrow and pain, each one reflecting a story of suffering that belies the innocence of their age.

Our cooking situation

Our mother, who is 65 years old, is forced to cook over an open fire because there is no proper place for cooking. The situation is extremely difficult; she cannot bear standing over the fire, especially given that she has undergone 11 surgeries.

In the quiet hours of the night, sorrow overwhelms me as I weep not only for the loss of our home but also for the future that was cruelly snatched away from us. I beg you, from the depths of my shattered heart, to extend a hand of compassion and support to us. Even the smallest act of kindness can illuminate our darkest moments and offer a fragile glimmer of hope in the face of despair.

I implore you, if at all possible, not to let my family and our innocent children continue to suffer. Every donation is a beacon of hope – a step towards reclaiming our dignity and building a future, however broken, that still carries the promise of healing and renewal.