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Every time I sit down to write, I look at the screen and wonder how to even start explaining what life feels like here right now. Because when you try to put a whole catastrophe into words, it feels impossible.

They call it a "yellow line." It sounds so boring, right? Like some bureaucratic term from a map in an office somewhere far away. But here, that line is a wall of death.

If you want to know why everyone is talking about a third Intifada lately, not like some political theory, but as this heavy, inevitable thing hanging in the air, you just need to look at what happened over the last 24 hours. Everything is boiling over.

That "Yellow Line" and the cage

Look at what's happening in Gaza. Over the last few days, maps and reports have shown something terrifying: the military keeps pushing that line deeper, taking more and more land, digging huge dirt mounds, and cutting everything into pieces.

This isn't about security. It’s land theft, plain and simple. About 65 percent of Gaza is basically under their direct control now, and people are squeezed into these tiny, crowded corners where finding clean water or a safe place to sleep is a full-time job. Every single day, they move the invisible borders a bit further, pushing people out of their homes. It’s an open-air prison getting smaller and smaller every hour.

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Meanwhile, in the West Bank

And while Gaza is under fire, the West Bank is a powder keg.

Today, towns up north are locked down tight. After clashes in places like Tell near Nablus, where armed settlers just walked into Palestinian land and people tried to defend their homes, the response was brutal. Four people dead in just one raid, soldiers everywhere, and ministers on TV basically calling for villages to be wiped out.

Let's be honest about the settlers: they aren't just random thugs. They are backed by the state. They burn olive groves, smash cars, and terrorize families while soldiers stand there and watch. They want everyone scared and broken.

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The spark

Every single day and night, they test us. They bomb us, they shoot at the spaces where our kids try to learn and play, and they let armed militias run wild.

They seem to forget one basic thing: you can't keep caging people forever without a reaction. What happened today in the West Bank, people fighting back, refusing to bow down, that's what a breaking point looks like. We are tired. God, we are so tired of counting the dead. But tiredness turns into something else when you have nothing left to lose.

The world just watches and writes statements. But history shows that Palestine doesn't wait for permission. The fuse for a third Intifada isn't being lit by leaders in rooms; it's being lit by every bulldozer pushing past the yellow line, every burned tree, and every sleepless night under the bombs.

We are still here. We're still breathing. And no line on a map is ever going to change that.

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Aya has been outside with her six children for days. Not hours — days. No shelter. No protection. Nothing to shield them from the cold at night or the insects that crawl over everything. Their belongings are on the ground because that’s all they have left. This isn’t a temporary inconvenience. This is a family stuck in the open with nowhere to go after being evicted when they couldn't pay the rent. It's cruel.

You can hear the anger, the fear, the humiliation of having to beg for basic safety from Aya:

“We’ve managed to raise £40, but we still desperately need £440 to get a roof over our heads. I’m out in the freezing open with my children sobbing around me.”

She’s right — £440 isn’t a huge amount. It’s not a luxury. It’s not a dream. It’s literally the cost of getting her children out of the open and into a place where they can sleep without the insects, the mosquitoes biting, the mice crawling everywhere.

This family has been exposed for days. If you can donate, please do. If you can’t, please share. Every share matters.

Campaign link:

https://chuffed.org/project/138820-helping-ayas-family

Donate to Aya

Mayar, Rose, and Baby Kamal

Mayar is 25 and raising two babies. Her toddler, Rose, is suffering because the environment around her is destroying children’s health. The heat, the contaminated water — it’s all showing up on her skin, in her tears. Can you imagine standing by watching your baby cry and being him helpless to do anything about it?

“This is my little daughter Rose’s body… and these are her tears, caused by the unbearable heat and contaminated water. Rose needs medical care and treatment, but I cannot afford them.”

She’s not being dramatic. Her daughter needs medical care, and she can’t pay for it.

Then there’s Kamal, her baby boy. Every two days he needs another can of formula. Diapers costs money…money she doesn't have. These are basics — not extras, not nice‑to‑haves. Basics.

Her fundraiser has been open for six weeks and has only reached $512. That’s about $85 a week. It doesn’t even cover Kamal’s formula, let alone food, clean water, or medical treatment for Rose, herself or her husband.

There is only so much Mayar can do, Israel has destroyed everything in Gaza. If you can donate, please do. If you can’t, please share. Someone out there might be able to help.

Campaign link:

https://chuffed.org/project/mayar06

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A Woman Who Has Helped Everyone — Now in Her Own Crisis

This last story is about a woman who has spent months helping other people quietly, consistently, without ever asking for anything for herself. She’s the one who answers messages in the middle of the night. The one who organizes support. The one who listens to people’s trauma and doesn’t turn away. She’s been carrying so many people through their worst moments.

Now she’s stuck in a situation she can’t fix on her own.

Her bank froze her accounts overnight. No warning. No explanation. Everything she has — her income, her savings, every bit of money she relies on — is locked inside those accounts. She can’t touch any of it. She can’t pay her rent. She can’t buy food. She can’t cover basic living costs because the bank has her entire financial life on hold.

Our team can vouch for her. She’s a close friend, and we’ve seen firsthand how much she’s done for others. She’s never asked for anything for herself. She’s always been the one helping everyone else stay afloat.

She’s fighting the bank. She’s confident she’ll get her access back. But right now she’s in a month‑long standstill with no way to use her own money. She’s proud and private, and she hates being in this position, which is why she wants to stay anonymous.

She’s not asking for charity. She’s asking for a temporary bridge — enough to keep her stable for a couple of months while the bank sorts out her accounts. She estimates she needs about $7,000 to cover rent, food, and basic living costs for three months. Just enough to stay afloat until she can access her own funds again.

And she’s made a promise: once her accounts are restored, every dollar raised will be donated back to families in need. She will provide receipts. She wants people to know their help will eventually go right back into helping others.

She’s helped so many people. Now she needs help herself. If you can donate, please do. If you can’t, please share. There are moments in everyone's lives they need help, she's needing it right now.

Campaign link:

https://chuffed.org/project/188615-temporary-support-for-gazas-behind-the-scenes-advocate

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When people talk about Gaza, they often focus on the bombings, hunger, and lack of water. But there is another crisis that receives far less attention, even though it shapes people’s lives every single day: the struggle to find a place to call home.

Today, I want to tell you about another side of life in Gaza—one that rarely makes headlines, even though it affects peyople every day and every night.

In most parts of the world, housing is considered a basic necessity. In Gaza, simply finding a place to sleep has become a battle in itself. The daily question is no longer, “How will we live?” but rather, “Where will we live?”

After the destruction of thousands of homes, hundreds of thousands of families were forced to start over from nothing, searching for any place that could protect them from the sun, the cold, and the rain—or at least give them a small sense of safety.

Some people are living in the streets, with no walls to protect them and no door to close at the end of the day.

Others live in displacement camps. These camps are free to enter, but “free” does not mean dignified or comfortable. The real cost is living an entire life inside a tent.

A tent is not a home.

It is a piece of fabric trying to withstand the scorching summer heat, the bitter winter cold, the wind, the rain, insects, and the complete absence of privacy. It has become a place that embodies waiting, exhaustion, and uncertainty, where families spend months without knowing when they will ever leave.

Some families choose to rent an empty plot of land so they can set up their own tent and have at least a small amount of privacy.

But even the ground beneath their feet has become a financial burden.

The cost of renting land ranges from 2 to 5 Israeli shekels per square meter each month.

A family needing about 150 square meters could end up paying approximately 525 shekels (around $175 USD) every month, based on an average rate of 3.5 shekels per square meter.

Paying that much money simply for an empty piece of land is difficult to imagine under normal circumstances, yet it has become reality in Gaza.

Others are forced to rent apartments—not because they are affordable or easy to find, but because they are trying to hold on to what remains of a normal life, because they still have some source of income, or because they desperately want to provide their children with something safer than a tent.

Today, apartment rents in Gaza range from $333 to $1,000 per month, depending on the location, size, and condition of the apartment.

These prices would be considered high almost anywhere. In Gaza, where countless people have lost their jobs and livelihoods, they are nearly impossible.

Others live inside warehouses that were once commercial buildings but have now become homes for displaced families, like the warehouse where my own family and I live.

The monthly rent for these warehouses ranges from $233 to $600, depending on their size and condition.

The warehouse where we live is relatively large and even has a loft, but at the end of the day, it is still a warehouse—not a home.

Before moving here, I spent much of the war living in the streets.

Everything changed because of an old friend of my father’s. I pray every day that my father returns to us safely.

He allowed me to rent this warehouse for $400 per month.

The rent used to be a little lower, but he told me someone else had offered to pay more.

Even so, I have held on to this place.

Not because it is comfortable, but because it protects my family from many of the hardships faced by those who do not even have a roof over their heads.

The hardest part is not paying rent.

The hardest part is paying rent because the home you once owned no longer exists.

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Every family in Gaza once had a house filled with memories, photographs, dreams, and a sense of belonging.

Then one day, so many of those homes were reduced to rubble.

I wish my home were still standing, even if only a few walls remained.

I would return without hesitation, even if it were inside the yellow zone.

Because a home is not just concrete and bricks.

A home is where you feel that you belong.

My home was my paradise.

Many people believe Gaza’s suffering is limited to hunger and the lack of clean water.

The truth is far greater than that.

There is the struggle to find shelter, the burden of impossible rent, the loss of privacy, raising children inside tents, and the constant fear of losing even the temporary place you managed to find after losing everything else.

Behind every closed door in Gaza is a story.

Behind every tent is a family.

And behind every family paying rent today is a home they once had and never imagined they would lose.

If you truly want to understand Gaza, do not look only at the images of destruction.

Look at the people trying to rebuild a life among the ruins.

Look at the father searching every month for rent on a place he never needed before the war.

Look at the mother trying to turn a tent into a home.

Look at the child who no longer knows what it feels like to have a bedroom of their own.

This is Gaza today.

A place where simply finding a roof over your family’s head has become yet another battle for survival.

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As Gaza's water crisis deepens, both of our teams on the ground shifted their efforts to delivering clean drinking water to camps that have been repeatedly overlooked. Every day brought new requests for help. Every day brought another camp with empty containers.

This initiative raised $4,214.

After

• $143.28 (3.4%) in Chuffed/Stripe processing fees,

• $30 international wire fee

• $40 in Kraken exchange fees

We transferred $2,000 to Alaa in Central Gaza and $2,000 to Abood in Northern Gaza.

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Central Gaza – Alaa

Alaa distributed:

• 40,000 liters of fresh drinking water

• 8 water trucks

• 1,150 families/tents served

• 8 Forgotten camps reached

Camps served:

• Hamama Al Salam - 7/14/26

• Al Waad -7/15/26

• Al-Fayrouz- 7/16/26

• Al-Aman 7/16/26

• Al-Baraka - 7/17/26

• Al-Aman - 7/18/26

• Al Insan -7/18/26

• Al Manara -7/18/26

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After all distributions, $96.08 remained, which will be rolled into Emergency Water Initiative #10 which rolled out this week.

Because of the security situation in Central Gaza, Alaa continues using 5,000-liter trucks instead of larger 12,000-liter trucks. Although the larger trucks are cheaper per liter, they also draw much more attention from the occupation and increase the risk being an Israeli strike target. The smaller trucks reduce visibility and give the team a better chance of reaching remote camps safely.

On July 14, while traveling to fill one of the water trucks, an airstrike landed near the team.

While traveling to the desalination plant to fill the water truck, an airstrike occurred near our location. By the grace and protection of God, every member of the team remained safe. Despite this difficult and stressful situation, the team continued the mission after confirming it was safe to proceed.

Despite the danger, they completed the mission.

On another distribution, the team handed out small gifts to children waiting in the scorching heat for water—a small moment of joy in the middle of unimaginable hardship.

Alaa's receipts.

Funds transferred to Alaa.

Funds received by Alaa.

Currency exchange.

Team commission

Water Truck Receipts

Poster Printing Receipts

Northern Gaza –

Abood distributed:

• 49,500 liters of fresh drinking water

• 6 water trucks

  • Three 12,000-liter trucks

  • Three 4,500-liter trucks

• 1,415 families/tents served

• 9 camps reached

Camps served:

• Al Qawqa and Al Shati - 7/14/26

• Al Siraj - 7//15/26

• Al Waha and Al Awda - 7/16/26

• Al Duha - 7/17/26

• Al Muqousi and Al Shati - 7/19/26

• Al Masri - 7/20/26

After all distributions, $191 remained, which will be rolled into Emergency Water Initiative #10 which rolled out this week.

Throughout the week, Abood repeatedly found camps that had gone without water.

Today, we were able to secure 12,000 liters of fresh drinking water... I noticed that most of these camps had not received any water at all today—it was as if the water trucks had disappeared."

In another camp, families told him they had survived ten days without a water truck.

Every day, five people would pull a single cart to fetch a small amount of water. Then they would divide it equally among themselves.

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On July 20, while on the way to fill another water truck, Abood's team narrowly escaped an airstrike only about 100 meters behind them. They continued the mission, filled the truck, and delivered the water.

Abood's Receipts

Funds transferred to Abood.

Funds received by Abood.

Currency exchange.

Water Truck Receipts

Impact Statement (Initiatives 1–9)

As we close Emergency Water Initiative #9, we wanted to step back and share what this community has accomplished together.

Since launching Gaza's Forgotten Families, you have raised $18,629 in total donations for initiatives 1 - 9. We have launched emergency water initiative #10 this week ($4,000).

Financial Breakdown

• 83.45% ($15,546) → Direct humanitarian aid (food, water, medicine, and essential supplies)

• 8.03% ($1,496) → Commission paid to our Palestinian team on the ground for coordinating, purchasing, transporting, documenting, and distributing aid

• 3.64% ($678.80) → Local currency exchange fees

• 3.05% ($568.57) → Chuffed/Stripe processing fees

• 1.61% ($300) → International bank wire fees

• 1% ($40) → Kraken exchange fees (charged after exceeding $10,000 in exchanges)

Together, we have reached:

• 36 displacement camps

• 4,356 families/tents

• Approximately 21,942 Palestinians (using an average of five people per tent)

These numbers represent far more than statistics.

They represent mothers who no longer have to choose which child drinks first.

Children who don't have to go to sleep thirsty for another night.

Elderly men and women who no longer have to wait in unbearable heat hoping a water truck might come.

They represent communities that had been forgotten—until you showed up.

One message from Alaa captures why this work continues:

Our main priority was delivering water to the truly forgotten families. People thanked Substack's supporters, and we saw the joy in their eyes as we distributed the water... But the painful truth is that thousands of families are still waiting. Children go to sleep thirsty, mothers stand for hours searching for a drop of water, and the elderly find no one to lend them a helping hand. Don't let these voices be silenced by the war."

To every person who donated, shared an article, encouraged someone else to give, or simply chose not to look away—

Thank you.

Because of you, thousands of Palestinians have received food, medicine, emergency supplies, and now life-saving drinking water.

There is still much more work to do. Please continue to help and share this campaign.

https://chuffed.org/project/183781-gaza-forgotten-families-fund

Donate to Gaza's Forgotten Families

We'll continue going where the gaps are, seeking out the families many aid agencies cannot reach, and documenting every initiative with complete transparency.

While Gaza’s Forgotten Families funds the aid, Abood and Alaa are the ones risking their lives to make every distribution possible. If you’d like to thank and bless them personally for their extraordinary work, you can support their individual campaigns below.

Alaa:

https://chuffed.org/project/171331-alaa-and-his-two-little-ones-seek-hope

Donate to Alaa

Abood:

https://chuffed.org/project/174135-seven-lives-one-20-year-old-help-abood-survive-this

Donate to Abood

From all of us at Gaza's Forgotten Families, and from every family who received a meal, a medical supply, or a drop of clean water.

THANK YOU FOR STANDING WITH GAZA

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We cannot do justice by paraphrasing what he told us today. We'll let you read his words.

"I just got back from delivering today's water truck, and right now all I can say is: Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah. God saved me and my team from the bombing. Praise be to God for sparing our lives.

We were on our way to fill the truck with water. About 100 meters behind us, there was a jeep, and it was struck directly by an airstrike. The truck driver immediately accelerated to get us away from the attack, which could easily have hit us as well. Despite that, we continued to the water station and filled the truck. Then, on our way to the camp, we had to drive back through the same street where the strike had happened. I saw the vehicle that had been hit, and I filmed it.

There was one martyr. They couldn't find his body intact and had to collect his remains from the scene using bags. There were also more than 14 people injured who happened to be passing by on the road."

And yet they kept going.

They filled the truck.

They delivered the water.

That is what it takes to keep people alive in Gaza.

Those of us sitting in comfortable homes, with food on the table and clean water whenever we want it, cannot truly understand what Palestinians endure. Not even for a moment.

And we want to pause on that.

Because it's not just "comfort." It's the thousand tiny things we don't even register as blessings. We sit behind windows that keep out the dust and heat. We have electricity humming in the background, powering our lights, refrigerators, fans, and phones. We have walls that keep out mosquitoes, flies, and pests instead of fighting them every night in a tent. We have roofs that don't leak, floors that aren't dirt, and the luxury of silence instead of drones and explosions.

These are privileges so ordinary that we forget they're privileges at all.

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Meanwhile, in Central Gaza, Alaa is facing a different challenge.

In Alaa's words:

"My phone hasn't stopped ringing. Camp leaders we've visited over the past several days are calling, pleading with us to send them more water trucks.

The situation is becoming more difficult by the hour.

In this relentless heat, water is no longer simply a necessity. It is survival.

Thousands of families, children, and elderly people are facing severe shortages of clean water. Some water stations have stopped operating altogether, and the crisis grows worse every day."

This is why we cannot stop.

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Every day Abood leaves his home knowing he may not come back.

Every day Alaa does the same.

Because of the danger in Central Gaza, Alaa cannot use the larger 12,000-liter trucks, even though they are significantly cheaper per liter. The larger trucks draw too much attention, increasing the risk to the team. Instead, he uses smaller 5,000-liter trucks because minimizing visibility gives them the best chance of reaching the camps safely—and making it home alive.

These are calculations no humanitarian team should ever have to make.

But this is the reality of Gaza.

We created Gaza's Forgotten Families because too many camps were being overlooked. We go where the gaps are. We seek out the families that many aid agencies cannot reach, and we continue returning because the need never ends.

Water is life.

Every truck means another camp survives another day.

Every donation becomes clean drinking water.

If you are able, please help us keep these trucks on the road. The need is urgent, and the calls for help are only growing.

Donate to Gaza's Forgotten Families

We appreciate each and every one of you who supports the people of Gaza. We truly do.

But…

The people of Gaza will cease to exist if we don’t do more.

If you have any voice, use it to scream from the rooftops about what’s happening.

Use it like this was happening to your family. Use it so your voice goes hoarse.

We have to lift our voices higher than ever. Because if we don’t, ours will be the only voices left in a desert of silence filled with dead bodies that once was Gaza.

We’re reaching that point and there is no one to stop them but you. All of you.

Do whatever you can - please.

🔗 https://chuffed.org/project/183781-gaza-forgotten-families-fund

Donate to Gaza's Forgotten Families

And for these two young men, one barely out of his teens… if you want to show them appreciation and love, please support them and their families. Links are below. Thank you.

Abood:

https://chuffed.org/project/174135-seven-lives-one-20-year-old-help-abood-survive-this

Donate to Abood

Alaa:

https://chuffed.org/project/171331-alaa-and-his-two-little-ones-seek-hope

Donate to Alaa

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Islam Salouha tried to evacuate his family from Gaza under white flags. They did everything civilians are told to do — slow steps, visible, no threat, just trying to get out alive. Israeli terrorists still opened fire. His six‑year‑old son was killed right in front of him. Other relatives were hit. It was a family trying to survive, and they were shot down anyway.

This is beyond heartbreaking, beyond soul‑crushing, that this keeps happening over and over again. And the world is not stopping this shit. It’s been happening for 78 years and nothing is changing, nothing. Everything remains the same. Babies are still being hunted, targeted, and slaughtered. Innocent civilians are still being wiped out. It’s the same cycle, the same brutality, the same horror, repeating itself while everyone watches and does nothing.

Manufacturing Dissent exists because of you. We’re independent—powered only by readers and listeners. For less than a coffee, you can join us. Annual memberships are 30% off. Stand with us. Fuel citizen journalism. Keep dissent alive.

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Over the past week, thanks to your continued generosity, our teams completed two separate humanitarian initiatives across Northern Gaza and Central Gaza, delivering fresh food and clean drinking water to families living in some of the most underserved communities in Gaza.

Working independently, Abood served northern Gaza while Alaa focused on central Gaza and Gaza City. Together, these initiatives continued our mission:

We go where the gaps are. We actively seek out families that many aid agencies cannot reach, ensuring they are not forgotten.

And now, with one of the most evil genocider gone…let's help Palestinians survive to see them rebuild Gaza.

Donate to Gaza's Forgotten Families

Update #7 — Northern Gaza

Facilitated by

What We Delivered

🥬 55 vegetable and fruit parcels

💧 17,000 liters of clean drinking water

🥛 162 milk cartons for the children.

📍 Marginalized communities in northern Gaza

Abood began shopping before sunrise, allowing him to secure lower wholesale prices and provide a wider variety of fresh produce, including lychee—a fruit many families had not enjoyed in a long time.

Rather than preparing more food parcels, he intentionally reserved funding for a much larger water delivery, allowing us to distribute 12,000 liters of clean drinking water the following day (7/10/26). He also distributed an additional 5,000 liters of water on 7/11/26 and 162 cartons of Almarai milk to the children.

A Moment We'll Remember

One woman receiving her parcel smiled as she tasted the lychee and commented on how delicious it was.

Sometimes hope arrives in unexpected ways—even through a piece of fresh fruit.

Financial Summary

Item Amount

Funds Raised $2,000

Wire Fee $30

Carryover from Previous Initiative $138

Currency Exchange $49.25

Team Support $205

Vegetables & Fruit $1,100

Bags $35.24

Posters $13.30

Transportation $35.24

12,000L Water Truck $400

5,000L Water Truck. $200

162 Cartons of Milk. $120

Update #8 — Central Gaza

Facilitated by Alaa

What We Delivered

🥬 43 vegetable parcels

💧 10,000 liters of clean drinking water

📍 Al-Maqousi Camp and Al Riyadh Camp

As always, Alaa's team sought out families who had not previously received assistance rather than returning to the same camp.

The vegetable initiative reached 43 displaced families, while two separate water initiatives brought clean drinking water to hundreds of families enduring severe shortages.

Moments We'll Remember

During the vegetable distribution, a young boy ran after the team calling:

My father is a martyr. Nobody brings us anything.

It was a heartbreaking reminder of why these initiatives matter.

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During the first water distribution, hundreds of families gathered after hearing the truck had arrived.

Many had gone an entire week without clean drinking water.

Fear that the water would run out led to tension among those waiting.

Thankfully, our team quickly organized the crowd, reassured everyone, and ensured every family present received water peacefully.

The second water initiative brought another unexpected challenge.

On the way to Al Riyadh Camp, the water truck broke down.

Knowing families were already waiting, the team immediately contacted a mechanic and worked quickly to repair the truck rather than canceling the distribution.

Thankfully, the truck was repaired, and the team completed the delivery that same day despite scorching summer temperatures.

For families living in tents, this water means far more than relief from thirst.

It provides water for drinking, cooking, and basic hygiene—essentials for survival during one of Gaza's hottest periods of the year.

Financial Summary

Item Amount

Funds Raised $2,000

Crypto Exchange $59

Team Support $191

Transportation $48

Laminated Posters $66

Vegetable Distribution. $1,205

Water Initiative #1 $200

Water Initiative #2 $200

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Combined Impact

Together, Updates #7 and #8 provided:

🥬 98 fresh vegetable and fruit parcels

💧 22,000 liters of clean drinking water

❤️ Hundreds of marginalized families reached across Northern and Central Gaza

Thank you for continuing to stand with Gaza's Forgotten Families.

Every initiative reminds us that while the need remains immense, every parcel delivered, every liter of water distributed, and every family reached tells someone they have not been forgotten.

Donate: https://chuffed.org/project/183781-gaza-forgotten-families-fund

Donate to Gaza's Forgotten Families

Note: Abood and Alaa do this work voluntarily. They don’t take anything from the labor costs that are set aside for distribution. They pass every bit of it straight to their team. They do this out of their own generosity. They’re both hardworking young men, brave as hell, going into areas no other initiative goes near — close to the yellow line — just to reach people who’ve been forgotten. Their families need support just as much as anyone else in Gaza. If you want to show love or appreciation, please donate directly to them.

Alaa: https://chuffed.org/project/171331-alaa-and-his-two-little-ones-seek-hope

Donate to Alaa

Abood: https://chuffed.org/project/174135-seven-lives-one-20-year-old-help-abood-survive-this

Donate to Abood

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On July 8, —a member of our own community—distributed fresh fruits and vegetables to families in Gaza. If you watch the video of this distribution—and I really hope you do—you'll see firsthand the raw, heartbreaking gratitude. The first woman in line is moved to tears—not just out of thanks, but out of sheer desperation and relief. These families are profoundly grateful for even the most basic necessities.

Look closely at the conditions they’re enduring. These aren’t even proper tents—just makeshift shelters. It’s a stark reminder that these people have been marginalized by policies and forgotten by the world.

We need to share their story. These families have no one outside of Gaza to speak for them. They don't have phones or campaigns. They are the very definition of the forgotten families we aim to help.

We are literally the first ones to reach them with fresh food. So please, share this widely—on your social media, with your friends, neighbors, family, churches, mosques, and community centers.

We see images like this all the time on our timelines, but this is different—this is one of our own community members, Abood, on the ground. That should bring this reality closer to home. These are not distant faces; these are real people, and we need to understand that this could be any of us in a different circumstance.

I’m asking you—please donate to this initiative. Without your contributions, none of this would be possible. I’m grateful to every one of you who has shared and donated already. These families are in desperate need, and it’s on us to do what we can for our fellow human beings.

Donate here: https://chuffed.org/project/183781-gaza-forgotten-families-fund

Donate to Gaza's Forgotten Families

Note: Abood does this entirely voluntarily and receives no compensation. If you’d like to show your appreciation for him directly, you can do so here:

https://chuffed.org/project/174135-seven-lives-one-20-year-old-help-abood-survive-this

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Large humanitarian aid organizations play a vital role in responding to emergencies, but logistically it is too difficult for them to reach many families living in isolated camps, scattered tents, damaged neighborhoods, and dangerous areas so these pockets of people often get left behind. Our mission has always been to work alongside trusted local partners to identify those forgotten communities and bring them life-sustaining aid.

Over the course of our first six completed initiatives, your generosity has provided emergency humanitarian assistance to 993 families, reaching an estimated 4,965 people across Gaza.

Every initiative has been documented through photographs, videos, receipts, and detailed financial reporting because we made a commitment to transparency and you, as a donor, deserve to know where your money is being spent.

Financial Transparency

For Initiatives 1–6, we have accounted for $10,135.00 in distributed funds.

Where Your Money Went

More than 83 cents of every dollar donated was used to purchase humanitarian aid directly inside Gaza.

These funds purchased:

🥭Fresh fruit and vegetables

💧Clean drinking water

🥖Bread

🍼Baby care packages

🧼Hygiene and household supplies

⛑️Special health packages

Other essential miscellaneous humanitarian assistance

The remaining 17 cent on the dollar account for the costs of moving humanitarian funds into an active war zone, converting currencies, and giving a small stipend to the Palestinian humanitarian workers who make every distribution possible.

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Why Local Team Compensation Is Part of the Aid

Over the first six campaigns, $909.52 (8.97%) was allocated to compensate our trusted humanitarian teams inside Gaza.

This is not corporate overhead. It is part of the humanitarian impact.

Our local coordinators spend days sourcing wholesale produce, negotiating prices, arranging transportation, coordinating with beneficiary families, documenting every initiative, packing aid parcels, distributing supplies, and often traveling into dangerous areas that many organizations cannot safely reach.

These are not outside contractors. They are Palestinians living through the very same humanitarian crisis as the families they are helping.

The modest compensation they receive helps support their own families, purchase food, and meet daily necessities while allowing them to continue carrying out this work.

In other words, these funds remain inside Gaza, circulating within the local economy and supporting the very community we are trying to help.

Every member of the Gaza's Forgotten Families team outside Gaza—including those coordinating fundraising, donor communications, financial reporting, writing, logistics, and administration—serves entirely as a volunteer.

No member of our U.S. or diaspora team receives any salary, compensation, or administrative fee.

The only administrative expenses outside Gaza are the unavoidable financial costs associated with processing donations, international wire transfers, and currency conversion.

Taken together, this means that more than 92% of all distributed funds remained inside Palestine—either purchasing humanitarian aid directly or supporting the Palestinians responsible for delivering that aid.

Now for the nice bit…..

Humanitarian Impact

Through the first six initiatives, your generosity helped provide assistance to approximately:

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 993 families reaching an estimated 4,965 people.

For the nerdy people who love numbers this translates into a cost of just over $2 per person.

So you can begin to see how even the smallest donation can make an impact.

Behind those numbers are real people struggling to survive a genocide.

Parents struggling to feed their children and infants.

Elderly men and women often living alone with untreated chronic illnesses.

Families caring for relatives with disabilities and catastrophic war injuries.

Children recovering from devastating injuries.

Large numbers of amputees who are completely dependant on others for their survival

All of whom, without your generosity, might never have received assistance.

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What Your Donations Provided

Over the first six completed campaigns, your support helped provide:

💧 30,000 liters of clean drinking water

🥬 Fresh vegetable distributions

🍞 Emergency bread distributions

👶 Baby care packages

🧼 Hygiene and sanitation supplies

🩺 Specialized health assistance

🍎 Emergency fruit distributions

♿ Disability support packages

🏕️ Aid for displaced families living in tents

🏚️ Assistance to families living among the ruins of their homes

Beyond the Numbers

Statistics tell only part of the story.

Behind this stats:

• An injured father caring for his severely burned son received assistance after losing nearly his entire family in an Israeli strike.

• Umm Khamis received specialized hygiene supplies while caring for two adult family members living with disabilities.

• An elderly woman who lost both her home and her children took the opportunity of the camera to shout her anger and heartache to the world

• A displaced man living completely alone in a tent told our team:

This is the first time anyone has come to my tent.

Thousands of liters of clean drinking water reached communities where truck drivers are often reluctant to travel because of the danger.

Fresh vegetables reached families who had not seen nutritious produce in the longest time.

These are not simply deliveries.

They are reminders that people living through unimaginable hardship have not been forgotten.

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Why Local Partnerships Matter

Every Gaza's Forgotten Families initiative is coordinated by trusted Palestinians living inside Gaza.

They know which neighborhoods have received little assistance.

They know which roads remain passable.

They know which families are struggling in silence.

They know where humanitarian aid rarely reaches.

Their local knowledge allows every donation to go further while ensuring assistance reaches families that larger distributions may unintentionally miss.

That is what makes Gaza's Forgotten Families different.

We are not simply delivering aid.

We are searching for the people who have been overlooked.

Looking Ahead

To date, the Gaza's Forgotten Families campaign has raised $14,510.

Of that amount, approximately $4,000 remains reserved for Updates #7 and #8 which will be launched later this week, allowing us to continue responding quickly to urgent humanitarian needs as they arise.

As long as families continue to fall through the cracks...

As long as parents struggle to feed their children...

As long as clean water remains difficult to access...

We will continue this work.

Because no family should ever be forgotten.

Thank you for placing your trust in Gaza's Forgotten Families.

Every contribution has become more than a donation—it has become food on a family's table, clean water in a child's cup, hygiene supplies for vulnerable households, and a reminder to nearly five thousand people that they have not been forgotten. Together, we will continue reaching those who need it most.

Donate: https://chuffed.org/project/183781-gaza-forgotten-families-fund

Donate to Gaza's Forgotten Families

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We reached over 261 households in one of Northern Gaza's most isolated and underserved communities. These are families who refuse to leave the ruins of their homes and live among those ruins. Many of their loved ones remains still lie under the rubble.

This phase focused on two of the most urgent humanitarian needs facing displaced families today: fresh vegetables and fruit and clean drinking water.

As temperatures climbed across Gaza during the first week of July, families living in tents and among the rubble faced relentless heat with almost no shade or reliable access to clean water. Temperatures are hovering around 31–33°C (87–92°F) and conditions inside tents and across exposed concrete and destroyed neighborhoods made these temps significantly hotter. Dehydration is an ever-present danger particularly for the young, sick and elderly.

This initiative was carried out in the eastern Jabalia area of Northern Gaza—an area where many families continue living on the ruins of their homes despite the constant danger and their close proximity to the so-called "yellow zone." They have refused to abandon their land, choosing instead to endure unimaginable hardship rather than lose what little remains of their home.

These are communities receiving little to no organized humanitarian assistance.

For many of the families we reached, the only aid they received came from the Substack community.

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Essential 1 — Fresh Vegetable Distribution (Northern Gaza)

Fresh vegetables have become one of the most difficult foods to obtain inside Gaza.

Most humanitarian food assistance consists of shelf-stable items designed for long-term storage. While these supplies are lifesaving, they cannot replace the nutritional value of fresh produce nor the value to a mother of preparing a fresh, nourishing meal to her children.

Working directly with a local wholesaler allows us to maximize every donated dollar while providing families with vegetables they could use to prepare several healthy meals.

• 61 vegetable parcels were prepared.

• 50 of these parcels were distributed inside one of Northern Gaza's most marginalized camps—a camp that currently receives virtually no assistance from any humanitarian organizations.

• The remaining 11 parcels were delivered to families living in tents scattered along nearby streets without any camp administration.

Each parcel included a selection of fresh vegetables, with a small surplus of peppers, lemons, and eggplants allowing additional produce to be shared among families.

For many recipients, this represented their first opportunity in 6 months to prepare a meal using fresh ingredients rather than relying solely on processed emergency food.

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Results:

🥬 61 families received a fresh vegetable parcel designed to last a few days.

❤️ One of Northern Gaza's least-served communities received direct assistance

Expenses:

• Fresh vegetables: $1,281

• Transportation: $37

• Distribution bags: $30

• Posters and identification materials: $22

• Total: $1,370

Essential 2 — Emergency Water Distribution

Access to clean drinking water continues to be one of Gaza's greatest humanitarian emergencies.

No family should ever have to choose between dehydration and drinking unsafe water.

As Abood explained:

"No one drinks dirty water. None of us can accept this for ourselves or our children. Families walk hundreds—sometimes thousands—of meters pushing small carts to collect clean water. When they cannot afford a cart, they carry heavy containers back by hand."

This phase focused on families living throughout eastern Jabalia.

Many remain surrounded by destroyed infrastructure where water deliveries are infrequent or nonexistent.

When Abood coordinated with one camp for delivery, he discovered neighboring camps had gone three full days without water.

As the truck arrived, crowds quickly gathered.

Not because people were disorderly—but because parents feared there would not be enough water for their children.

Humanitarian deliveries inside Gaza require careful coordination. If the truck stops too early, large crowds form before it reaches the families waiting at the designated distribution point. Yet once a location has been promised assistance, volunteers cannot simply turn away.

It is an impossible balance.

Abood later reflected:

"I wish I could bring enough water trucks for all of Jabalia. Every family there desperately needs assistance."

Each water truck requires approximately 90 minutes to two hours to empty depending on road conditions, distance traveled, and the amount of rubble blocking access.

Despite these obstacles, two emergency water distributions were successfully completed.

Results:

💧 Two emergency water trucks delivered

💧 10,000 liters of clean drinking water distributed

💧 More than 200 households received emergency drinking water

💧 Families were spared a long distance walk searching for water and carrying heavy containers through extreme heat

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Expenses:

• Water Truck #1: $200

• Water Truck #2: $200

• Total: $400

A special thank you goes to anonymous private donor from the Substack community, who generously donated 200 CAD (approximately $137 USD) directly to Abood outside of the Chuffed campaign to help fund emergency water distribution.

A Personal Journey Home

This distribution carried deep personal meaning for Abood.

While traveling through eastern Jabalia, he passed his old elementary school.

Seeing it again after everything that has happened brought back memories he thought had long disappeared.

Among the destruction were reminders of childhood—places that once represented ordinary life before the genocide transformed the landscape.

Those memories made this mission especially emotional.

Yet despite everything that has been lost, the people of Jabalia remain determined to stay.

Many families continue living beside the ruins of their homes because they refuse to abandon their land.

Their resilience is extraordinary.

Note: does not take anything to do this for his people. If you want to show Abood appreciation and support him, this is his link:

https://chuffed.org/project/174135-seven-lives-one-20-year-old-help-abood-survive-this

Donate to Abood

Summary of Humanitarian Impact

Through this initiative, more than 261 households received direct humanitarian assistance.

61 families received fresh vegetable parcels.

More than 200 households received emergency clean drinking water.

These distributions reached one of Northern Gaza's most underserved communities—a population receiving little support despite living under extraordinarily difficult conditions.

Families include elderly residents, people living with disabilities, individuals recovering from war injuries, and parents raising young children amid destroyed infrastructure and extreme summer heat.

For many, this assistance represented not only food and water—but reassurance that they have not been forgotten.

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Funds Received & Transparency Summary

Total collected for Update #5: $2,000

Carryover from Update #3: $119 (included in the $2,000)

Fund Movement:

• Stripe disbursement after fees: $1,881

• Bank wire fee: $30

• Amount transferred to Abood: $1,851

• Currency exchange (2.5%): $46

• Cash available inside Gaza: $1,804

To recognize the extraordinary work required to source supplies, negotiate wholesale pricing, coordinate distributions, organize volunteers, transport aid, document deliveries, and safely reach vulnerable communities, $180 (10%) was allocated to compensate the local humanitarian team for their time and efforts.

The remaining funds were used to purchase and distribute humanitarian aid throughout Northern Gaza.

As always, every phase of Gaza's Forgotten Families is documented with photographs, videos, receipts, and financial reporting so supporters can see exactly how their generosity is being used.

Looking Ahead

Every completed distribution reminds us of two truths.

First, compassionate people from around the world can make a tangible difference in the lives of families enduring unimaginable hardship.

Second, the need remains overwhelming.

Entire neighborhoods continue to survive with little or no organized humanitarian assistance. Families are still searching for clean water. Parents are still struggling to find nutritious food for their children.

We will continue working alongside trusted local coordinators like and to reach communities that too often fall through the cracks.

Thank you for making this possible.

Thank you for trusting us.

Thank you for proving, once again, that ordinary people can accomplish extraordinary things when they refuse to look away.

Please continue sharing.

Please continue giving.

No family forgotten.

Donate:

https://chuffed.org/project/183781-gaza-forgotten-families-fund

Donate to Gaza's Forgotten Families

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His 13‑year‑old daughter has one leg. And now her arm is broken.

There’s no way she could be hobbling around on crutches when her arm is broken and she has one leg. It’s impossible. She needs a wheelchair, and she needs it now.

Amjad’s life has been torn apart piece by piece. His wife and their smaller twins were killed in a missile strike. One twin’s body was found. The other was so destroyed that he had to gather what was left of his baby into a plastic bag just to bury the child. That’s the trauma he lives with every day.

Donate to Amjad

His daughter — one of the only two children he has left — lost her leg in that same strike. Three months ago, this community helped me get her special crutches. You showed up. You helped her stand again. But now she’s fallen, and because she’s malnourished, her bones are fragile. Her arm snapped. She’s in constant pain.

And Amjad is begging for help to get her a wheelchair. He found one for $600, which is unbelievably low for Gaza. But even that is out of reach for him.

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Here’s what he wrote:

“My daughter is a young child, barely out of childhood. She lost her leg in the war, then fell from her crutches and broke her arm, leaving her in constant pain. Please help us raise $600 to buy a wheelchair. Every contribution means life and hope to her.”

This family has nothing. Amjad has a back injury that makes it impossible to work. He’s living with his elderly parents in a tent. His father has a hole‑in‑the‑heart condition. His mother recently collapsed and needed a ventilator the hospital didn’t have. They often don’t have food. They often don’t have clean water. They’re surviving day to day.

I can go on and on and list all the trauma and all the hardships they’re enduring, but that’s neither here nor there in this moment. Right now the focus is the wheelchair for this little girl.

Donate to Amjad

The minimum we need is $600 for the wheelchair.

The real goal is $1,000 so they can get the wheelchair, some medical care, and basic food and clean water.

If you can help, please do. Even a small amount gets us closer to giving this child the ability to move without pain, without crawling, without suffering through something no child should ever have to endure.

https://chuffed.org/project/169893-amjads-family-gaza-after-the-disaster-please-help

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In just the last 30 days, we have seen death become the constant companion of our daily routines. We are caught in a cycle of escaping from one death only to run headfirst into another. It feels like we are living in a lottery, a grim game of chance where the ticket is simply existing.

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Here are five ways, out of five thousand, that life has been stolen from us in the last month alone:

1. The Proximity of the Yellow Line

You are inside your home, a place that should be your sanctuary. But here, there is the “yellow line,” the invisible, lethal boundary of blocks placed near our neighborhoods. These are death zones. To stand near them, or even in their general vicinity, is to enter the crosshairs of a sniper. The air is never quiet; every day and every night of this past month, the terrifying sound of random gunfire has echoed through our streets. Soldiers have fired indiscriminately at residents, whether under the glare of the afternoon sun or in the thick, suffocating darkness of night. You are not safe, even in the corners where you hide.

2. The Daily Commute

You rely on your car to navigate the distance between home and what remains of your life. It should be a functional space, but the road has become a gauntlet. The road you have traveled a thousand times becomes a place where any turn could be the last. In the last 30 days, we have seen families hit while trying to reach supply centers, traveling for the sake of survival, only to become targets on a dusty road.

3. A Moment of Respite on the Beach

The sea is supposed to be our relief, a place to cool off and wash away the dust of the day. But this month, we witnessed people targeted while trying to find a moment of peace in the waves. A place of refuge turned into a scene of devastation in a single heartbeat. The shoreline, usually a rare place of relative openness, is no longer neutral.

4. Watching a Match in a Cafeteria

We try to find connection in the small things, like gathering in a local spot to watch a game. It is a desperate attempt to feel like humans living in a normal world. But even these small, human moments of joy were targeted this month. We’ve seen the aftermath — the broken chairs, the shattered screens — where laughter was cut short by sudden, irreversible loss.

5. On the Way Home from School

You are simply a student moving from the classroom to your front door, carrying your bag and your thoughts. You are walking the path you know by heart. But the street does not distinguish between a child’s path and a target. In the transition between the classroom and the home, the journey is interrupted before you can reach the door. The path back to your family is now a place of profound danger.

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Beyond these statistics, there is the private, gnawing terror that keeps me awake long after the drones have settled into their rhythmic, haunting hum. As a father, my life is no longer measured in years, but in the frantic, unspoken prayers I whisper every time Omar or Keenan leaves my sight, even if it’s just to step into the other room.

I catch myself watching them sleep, terrified that the quiet of the night is a prelude to something worse. I find myself rehearsing the worst-case scenarios in my head, over and over, trying to figure out how I would shield them, how I would explain the unexplainable, or how I would hold onto them if the world decided to tear us apart. It is a heavy, suffocating fear — the fear that no matter how much I teach them, no matter how much I love them, I am ultimately failing to provide the one thing a father is supposed to give: safety.

I carry this fear like a second skin. It is the tremor in my hands when I hold them, and the mask of calm I wear when they ask me, “Baba, will tomorrow be okay?”

The terrifying truth of Gaza is that you do not have to be a soldier to face these five thousand doors. You just have to be a father trying to find food, a student walking home, or a child trying to play in the shade of a tent.

Note: If you would like to support Ahmad Rizik and his family, please consider donating to his personal campaign or becoming a free/paid subscriber.

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We are still here, writing these words, but we know the gravity of our luck. Every sunset we see is a miracle we didn’t earn; it is just a day the lottery spared us.

We are not just statistics. We are men and women learning, every single day, how to be human in a place that has forgotten the meaning of the word. We keep walking through this maze, not because we have a guarantee of safety, but because as long as we are here, we refuse to let the darkness be the only thing that defines us.

If you are reading this, do not just count our deaths. Remember our lives. We are still here, and that, in this place, is the most defiant act of all.

Manufacturing Dissent exists because of you. We’re independent—powered only by readers and listeners. For less than a coffee, you can join us. Annual memberships are 30% off. Stand with us. Fuel citizen journalism. Keep dissent alive.

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Manufacturing Dissent is honored to welcome Rana Shubair, a Palestinian author from Gaza whose work documents life under siege with honesty and depth. She has written several books and continues to write personal reflections that capture the daily reality of her city and her people. Rana’s voice is rooted in lived experience, resilience, and the refusal to let Gaza be erased.

Her writing speaks of longing — for peace, for freedom, for a life where love and humanity are allowed to breathe. She writes to preserve memory, to protect truth, and to remind the world of the people behind the headlines.

If you want to support Rana, you can do so by purchasing her books at rana-shubair.com

Rana's Books

or by becoming a free or paid subscriber

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Maybe you don’t think much about that as you scroll through videos and images of a livestreamed genocide. Maybe when you see that a person is still alive, clean, and properly dressed, you think their life must be OK.

What you don’t see is what goes on behind the scenes.

The neat dress I’m wearing has been hand‑washed along with piles of laundry. Filling up water for washing is another story in and of itself. It begins with finding water, filling up buckets, and finally hauling them. Wash, rinse, and wring repeatedly. As I labor over the washing basin, I remember how back at home I used to sit and relax as my washing machine purred in the background, my brain oblivious to the various tasks it was doing so efficiently.

The hijab I’m wearing may be light and easy to wash, but have you thought about the burning detergent and the ensuing skin rash that follows? My mind wanders off to manicured fingernails and soft skin as I realize how damaged my hands are.

Beyond the scenes, even the smile I’m wearing is no longer second nature. I put a lot of effort into practicing being happy as I will my facial muscles to relax. Sometimes, when anxiety overtakes me and I can’t smile, I wear a mask to hide behind.

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Survival in Gaza requires tremendous physical and mental strength that is not easily acquired. Since day one, I knew I had to stay composed to protect my mental well‑being. I needed to believe I had the power to overcome all the horrors I was facing so I wouldn’t collapse. I had to keep reminding myself that God is with me and that His mercy will envelop me and my family.

Being under constant threat has meant being on the run and living in any makeshift place or tent. The first thing that may come to your mind when I mention living in a tent is an enchanting camping trip — the image of pitching a tent on the beach or in the woods for fun and excitement. But the tents I’m talking about are the ones where your stay in them is overdue. Where summer heat is scorching and winter cold is bone‑chilling and can lead to being frozen to death. A tent where you stave off rodents and insects.

As I contemplate my status, I realize that my stay in this world is exactly like my stay in the tent — temporary and fleeting. That I can live with a scant amount of material needs and still survive. Images from my prewar life in my elegant apartment flash before me, and I realize how I’d lived in extravagant luxury. To have a decent wardrobe to choose from, and different rooms to sit in. I can’t help but feel the creases deepen in my forehead as I frown and wonder: why did I have so much stuff when it’s become evident that I can live with so much less?

Modern and convenient transportation has become a thing of the past. To get from one place to another, you have to brace yourself for an excruciating ride — a piece of hell. Short distances have turned into long, rough, and rugged journeys. I sit in cramped seats as my head bangs against the metal posts that hold the trailer (pulled by cars to fit more people in) together. A five‑minute ride can take up to thirty minutes, and you can do the math for longer rides. When I reach my destination, I have to persuade my muscles to cooperate as I try to get out of the seat because I’ve been sitting for so long on wood, torn leather, or worn‑out fabric with protruding metal.

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Throughout the journey, a battle erupts between my body and my brain. As my muscles throb, fatigue overwhelms me, and my brain labors to stay alert and positive.

I have to endure until I get off.

I can do this.

I know I’ve loaded my backpack with too many things. But I’m sure my muscles have gotten stronger and I can carry it.

Tomorrow morning I know I’ll wake up to sore shoulder blades.

If Samih were here, he’d carry all this load and hold my hand too.

Amid this battle, a harsh fact hits me: I’m on my own in this act of survival. How did I get accustomed to being a loner? It’s been like this since my family was fragmented and separated. It’s not a new discovery — only another moment of sudden awareness.

Survival is a lonely path. It’s an enduring path just as rocky and bumpy as the car rides I take. A path I didn’t choose but found no way to evade. I embraced it so I could continue. The battle between my mind and body continues. My brain tells me to shun all grim ideas, to unsee the destruction. To close my eyes as I pass by a child trying to balance a pot of food bigger than their size. To close my eyes so I don’t get assaulted by the knotted features of a woman gripping two water containers, one in each hand, because the war has stolen not only her husband but her sons.

The trailer I’m riding in keeps jerking. I pass destroyed structures and houses, people with war‑engraved features, children doing the cruelest forms of labor… I put my head down and shut my eyes to protect my sanity. And when I open them again, I pretend that the images that passed weren’t there to begin with. That I had just scrolled past them the same way people do when they see us in Gaza. Or unsee us.

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This phase expanded our humanitarian efforts into an area new to us.

We made a decision, in conjunction with our local coordinator, to provide families with fresh vegetables and fruit as well as safe drinking water.

Many families in Gaza have not had fresh produce in a long time and some children have never even tasted fruit or vegetables. International food aid is generally highly processed and designed to have a long shelf life. So those people fully dependent on this aid unable to raise money to purchase fresh food, are suffering from all manner of nutritional deficiencies.

While we recognise that our small effort will in no way redress that balance, we felt it was important that we make efforts to reach families with fresh, healthy food to acknowledge this need for healthier foods and also as a way of allowing families to cook several meals with a little bit of variety and to help bring a tiny bit of normality and comfort into their lives. There are few better feelings in life than a parent preparing and cooking a healthy, tasty meal for their hungry children.

Thanks to your ongoing generosity to Gaza's Forgotten Families, we were able to launch this phase 4 initiative immediately after completion of Phase 3 so there was no delay in between both.

During our first phase of food delivery we met Sheik Mahmoud who is the Iman of the local Mosque. We learned that he lost his leg in a drone strike and that he lived entirely on his own. His family had either left Gaza or had been martyred so he had no relatives whatsoever left to care for him.

He sat in his tent pretty much all day every day on his own.

His story touched us all deeply and we wanted to get a special gift for him so we had Alaa make up a special fruit basket for him as a gesture of our love and solidarity but also to acknowledge that he might not be able to cook for himself given his disability. He was very appreciative and made duas for us all. So if you donated anything to Gaza's Forgotten Families consider yourself blessed by this Iman.

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Funds Received & Transparency Summary

Total collected for this phase: $2,000

Fund Movement 6/24/26:

• Stripe disbursement after fees: $1,972.18

• Bank wire fee: $30

• USDT transferred to Alaa: $1,940

• Currency exchange costs (5%): $97

• Total cash accessible inside Gaza: $1,848.43

To recognize the significant amount of work required to source supplies, negotiate pricing, organize volunteers, transport aid, document distributions, and reach vulnerable communities, $184 (10%) was allocated to compensate the local humanitarian team for their time and efforts.

The remaining funds were used to purchase and distribute aid throughout Central Gaza.

Essential 1 — Fresh Vegetable Distribution (6/25/26)

Fresh vegetables have become increasingly scarce and expensive throughout Gaza. This initiative was designed to provide families with nutritious produce that could be used to prepare several healthy meals.

Through wholesale purchasing, Alaa was able to maximize every donor dollar while increasing the quantity of food distributed.

Results

🥬 42 fresh vegetable parcels distributed to vulnerable families

🍎 1 special fruit parcel delivered to Sheikh Mahmoud

Total households served: 43

Each parcel included tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, potatoes, green peppers, garlic, eggplant, lemons, molokhia, and oranges.

All produce was purchased wholesale, carefully sorted, inspected, packed by hand, and transported directly to families living in underserved communities experiencing severe economic hardship.

Expenses:

• Fresh produce: $1,226

• Transportation: $33

• Total: $1,259

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Water Distribution to Hamama AI-Salam Camp on 6/26/26

Water Distribution to Intelligence Camp 6/27/26

Essential 2 — Emergency Water Distribution (6/26/26 & 6/27/26)

Access to clean drinking water remains one of the greatest humanitarian challenges facing displaced families across Gaza.

As part of this initiative, two emergency water distributions were completed, including deliveries to isolated camps where damaged roads make access for humanitarian vehicles extremely difficult.

Because of these conditions, many families have endured prolonged shortages of safe drinking water and are forced to make extraordinary efforts simply to obtain one of life’s most basic necessities. At the first camp it soon transpired that a water delivery had not happened in their area for a week. Even when it does arrive, people including children and elderly have to walk a long distance to the water truck and carry heavy containers all the way back to their tents in that searing heat. So to have a water truck arrive directly into the middle of the camp was simply wonderful for them.

Results

💧 5,000 liters delivered on 6/25/26

💧 5,000 liters delivered on 6/26/26

💧 10,000 liters of clean drinking water distributed

💧 More than 200 displaced families directly benefited, with priority given to elderly individuals, people living with disabilities, those suffering from chronic illnesses, and families with young children.

Delivering the water directly into the camps reduced the burden on residents who would otherwise have to travel long distances over damaged roads to obtain safe drinking water.

One of the most memorable moments witnessed during distribution came after the tanks were emptied. Children and young people loaded heavy water containers onto a horse-drawn cart and slowly transported them back across the camp to their tents. It was a simple but powerful reminder that obtaining clean drinking water remains a daily struggle for many displaced families.

Expenses:

• Water Truck #1: $200

• Water Truck #2: $200

• Total: $400

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Humanitarian Impact

Through this initiative, more than 243 households received direct humanitarian assistance, including 43 families receiving fresh vegetable parcels and more than 200 families benefiting from emergency clean drinking water.

These distributions provided immediate access to nutritious food and safe drinking water for families facing extraordinary hardship.

During distribution, the team worked under extreme summer temperatures while visiting camps where many residents are elderly, living with disabilities, suffering from chronic illnesses, or recovering from war-related injuries. Many families remain unable to travel even short distances to obtain food or water, making direct humanitarian delivery essential.

This initiative demonstrated the importance of reaching isolated communities that often remain underserved because of damaged infrastructure and limited humanitarian access.

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Looking Ahead

The work continues.

Next week, will launch our next humanitarian initiative in Northern Gaza, where he will once again serve as Gaza’s Forgotten Families’ local facilitator. This upcoming distribution will focus on providing fresh vegetable parcels to vulnerable families by working directly with a local wholesaler. Purchasing produce wholesale allows us to stretch every donated dollar further while ensuring families receive fresh, nutritious food that has become increasingly difficult to obtain.

As always, the entire initiative will be fully documented with photos, videos, receipts, and financial reporting so our supporters can see exactly how their generosity is making a difference.

Stay tuned for the launch of this next project and the stories of the families it will reach.

If you would like to help us continue this work, please consider making a donation or sharing our campaign with others. Every contribution helps us reach another family that might otherwise be forgotten.

Together, we continue proving that no family is forgotten.

With every completed distribution, Gaza’s Forgotten Families continues to expand its network of trusted local facilitators capable of identifying needs quickly and delivering aid directly to the communities they serve.

Please continue sharing.

Please continue giving.

No family forgotten.

🔗 https://chuffed.org/project/183781-gaza-forgotten-families-fund

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Note: Our two coordinators in Gaza, Alaa () and , give their time freely. They’re doing this in the middle of their own struggle, helping others while their own families face the same shortages and fear. If you appreciate their work and want to support them directly, their campaign links are below. They’re carrying this work while living through the same crisis themselves.

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Every time I sit alone, I remember those days when we searched for crumbs of food—days when a person would go out knowing they might not return, just for a little flour or a handful of rice. I used to tell myself to stop recalling those scenes, but how can one forget days when hunger chased people like death itself?

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Among all those memories, there is one night that remains in my mind as if it happened yesterday.

It was during the peak of the great famine that almost consumed us all. I received news that aid trucks would enter through a nearby street close to the border. At first, I did not believe it, but I rushed with a friend before sunset to the place where the trucks were said to pass.

When we arrived, we saw trucks heading toward the border, which gave us some hope. But soon we realized the number of young men waiting was enormous, and what was coming might not be enough for everyone.

Feb 28, 2024: IDF soldiers take potshots at famished desperate Palestinians

Night fell, and each person began preparing a place to sleep. Some gathered stones to protect themselves from expected gunfire. My friend and I found a barrier of sand and rocks and sat behind it, waiting for the unknown.

Hours passed slowly, and some young men began to leave after losing hope due to the delay of the trucks. We took turns sleeping so we could stay alert.

I was asleep when a huge explosion woke me up. It was a drone dropping bombs over us. We tried to stay calm so we could hear the sound of the bomb being dropped and escape before it exploded. Some did not survive, and others lost their limbs.

Shortly after, we heard tanks approaching, followed by heavy gunfire. I saw the young men at the front running, but they were falling one after another. It looked like people were being hunted.

While we were hiding from the shooting, the trucks began to enter.

I was shocked by the massive number of people. I thought many had left, but I realized a painful truth: hunger kills, and when it becomes extreme, people are ready to face death just to bring food to their families.

My friend and I ran toward the trucks, but we were shocked—they did not stop. They kept moving and crushed anyone in their way. Later, we learned that the drivers had been threatened: if they stopped, they would be targeted.

After about twenty trucks entered, I told my friend we had to climb one of them and try to return home with at least some rice or flour.

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With great difficulty, we managed to climb onto a truck full of people. It was so crowded that we almost fell several times. I held onto a metal bar with all my strength while helping my friend stay up.

I reached my hand through the crowd and grabbed one sack of rice, asking my friend to help me pull it.

But suddenly, another hand held the sack tightly.

I tried to make the person let go, but I froze when I saw who it was.

It was an elderly man, over 65 years old, looking at us with eyes full of fear and desperation, saying:

“It is my sack… my children are hungry… please, it is my sack.”

I looked at my friend, and I saw the same question in his eyes as in mine:

How could we take this sack from an old man like this? And how did he even manage to climb onto this truck when we, young and strong, struggled so much?

I said to my friend:

“This is not our day.”

Then I turned to the man and said:

“Don’t worry, we won’t take it. We will help you.”

He looked at us in shock, as if he did not expect to find any humanity left in such a place. He kept praying for us with words that are still engraved in my memory.

That moment, despite everything around it, remains one of the most beautiful moments I have ever lived.

I returned home empty‑handed, and my family was waiting, hoping I would bring something to ease their hunger. I told them what happened, and they said:

“It seems that man also has children waiting for him.”

I slept for a while, then I received news that flour trucks would enter northern Gaza through Zikim.

And then came the miracle I will never forget.

That day, God saved me from death and provided me with a sack of flour for my family.

I reflected on everything and said:

Glory be to God… when I refused to take the rice from that elderly man, God gave me flour on the same day.

This is only a small story among many we lived through during the famine and war. I share it because I trust you, and I believe sincere words should not be wasted.

If this story touches your hearts, help spread it. Not for fame, but so it remains a living testimony of what people here endured—when hunger stood beside death, and humanity still managed to survive against everything

Note: If you want to support , please consider donating to him or becoming a free/paid subscriber.

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On June 26, 2025, this story unfolded—almost a year and four days ago—when my son, “Al‑Saqr” (The Falcon), was born into this world under unforgettable, difficult circumstances.

Brotherhood has never been mere words spoken from pulpits or written in slogans; it has been tested in the most trying moments. And in this land where suffering has touched everyone without exception, our Christian brothers and sisters have never stood on the sidelines of this suffering. They have always been an integral part of the human fabric that binds people together under one sky, sharing one hunger and one hope.

One day, I was displaced on Al-Jalaa Street, carrying the weight of fear and anxiety on my shoulders and, in my heart, a newborn child. My wife had given birth to my son, “Al-Saqr,” when he was just one day old, but life had not granted him time to begin his journey in peace. We were living through a severe famine. There was no milk, no diapers, and we couldn’t afford them because of the circumstances, the siege, and the soaring prices that were crippling everyone.

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The doctor told me clearly, “Your baby needs milk and diapers immediately.” But the question was harder than the answer… where would we get them? How? We had almost nothing.

My wife tried to breastfeed him, but he wouldn’t respond. It was as if even nature itself was powerless to help us at that moment. I felt like the earth was closing in on me, and my fear for my child grew until it was suffocating. I cried… not out of weakness, but because I couldn’t see any way forward. I prayed fervently for relief, and I ran out into the streets, asking people: Does anyone have milk? Who can save a baby who had only just begun to live?

Then, in an unforgettable moment, God sent me a solution from where I least expected it. A friend saw me with tears streaming down my face and looking distraught. He asked, “What’s wrong, Alaa?” I told him everything that had happened, without hiding anything. He pointed me to one place and said, “Go to the church in the Old City… there are hearts that don’t turn away those in need.”

I went quickly, my heart racing ahead of my steps. When I arrived, I met a man named Michel inside the church. He didn’t ask where I was from, what I believed, or anything else—just the simple question: What do you need?

When I told him, he didn’t hesitate for a moment. He immediately gave me milk, diapers, two food parcels, and $100, then blessed my newborn with simple yet profound words: “We are all family… there is no difference between Muslim and Christian.”

Those words weren’t just a passing remark; they were a complete summary of what humanity means when it’s genuine.

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In Gaza, people are measured not by their affiliations but by their hearts. And here, in this weary land, the true meaning of brotherhood is revealed. Our Christian brothers and sisters have never been strangers to suffering; they have been a part of it when it happens, and a part of alleviating it when it intensifies.

They did not abandon us in moments of hunger, nor in moments of siege, nor in moments of helplessness. They opened doors before they were even knocked on, offering what they could without expecting anything in return, as if to always say: Humanity is one, regardless of names or beliefs.

This is not just a story of aid… but a story of a heart embracing another heart in a moment when the world felt so small.

And in the end, the undeniable truth remains: in Gaza, despite all the pain, humanity is still alive… walking on its own two feet, knocking on doors, wiping away the tears of a child who doesn’t know why he came into this world in such a difficult time.

And those who extended their hands to us, our Christian brothers and sisters, were not merely supporters… they were living proof that mercy is stronger than anything, and that when a person remains human, everyone is saved, even if only for a moment, from the cruelty of the world.

Note: If you want to support Alaa (), please consider donating to him or becoming a subscriber.

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Today we are excited to share the completion of Update #3 of Gaza’s Forgotten Families — The Essentials Initiative in Northern Gaza, facilitated by .

This phase focused on delivering support directly into Northwest Gaza near the Port of Gaza and concentrated on three of the most urgent daily needs for displaced and marginalized families:

🍞 Daily Bread

💧 Clean Water

🧼 Hygiene & Household Care

Thanks to your generosity, we reached our goal.

Funds Received & Transparency Summary (the boring but necessary bit!)

Fund movement:

6/17/26

• Stripe disbursement after fees: $1,934.18

• Sent to Abood via USDT: $1,930

• Currency transaction costs: 3.5% ($68)

• Total cash accessible inside Gaza: $1,863

From there, funds were distributed across the three essential urgent daily needs.

Essential 1 — Bread Distribution (6/18/26)

We had agreed a price agreement with a bakery and were set to implement the bread initiative for distribution to families facing severe food insecurity in Northern Gaza. However at the last moment the bakery was unable to honour the original pricing agreement which would have meant a reduction in the number of families benefitting. But with some quick thinking and extra effort our local coordinator, Abood, adapted and worked with local vendors and boys to produce more than enough bread to fulfil the order locally — turning an unexpected obstacle into an opportunity to support several local livelihoods as well.

Results:

🍞 100 bread bags distributed

🍞 2kg per bag

Expenses:

• Bread purchase: $273

• Marketing posters: $13

• Transportation: $75

Total distribution cost: $361

Additional support:

• $39 provided to local helpers (approximately 10%) for coordination, labor, and fulfilment support.

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Essential 2 — Emergency Water Distribution (6/20/26)

Access to water remains one of the most urgent and ongoing needs for displaced families. Water is scarce in Gaza and when available many people have to walk a long way to queue up and wait for it, often with small children carrying heavy containers back to their tents (if they are lucky enough to get water in the first place). This is a daily burden for families as the search for water is essential to survival and there is no option but to keep looking for it.

To identify communities with the greatest need, Abood posted publicly asking camp leaders to reach out to him. Through this outreach, he identified a camp in severe need of water.

Results:

💧 5,000 litres of drinking water delivered

💧 90+ families supported

Expenses:

• Water truck: $203

• Campaign poster: $3

Total cost: $206

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Essential 3 — Hygiene & Household Supplies (6/21/26)

For the final distribution under this initiative, hygiene supplies were delivered to displaced families living in tents and difficult conditions where sanitation supplies remain scarce. Many families have not had access to basic hygiene products like soap, toothpaste, toilet rolls, feminine hygiene products, cleaning materials etc. In addition rat traps are fast becoming an essential in these camps as they are overrun with these disease carrying pests.

Results:

🧼 32 families received hygiene support

Expenses:

• Hygiene supplies: $1,005

• Marketing posters: $24

• Transportation: $25

• Local helper commission/labor: $100

Total cost: $1,154

Remaining balance:

• $103 retained and reserved toward the next initiative in Northern Gaza

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Impact Summary – Update #3

During this initiative, 222 families in Northern Gaza benefited from your generous donations.

These distributions provided essential bread, water and hygiene supplies to families who have no access to fundraising platforms, limited ability to work and few means of earning income or securing basic necessities.

But we are not finished. The work goes on as long as the need still remains. So what’s next?

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Looking Ahead — Initiative #4

Our next distribution effort will move into Central Gaza and will be facilitated by Alaa, also known as on Substack.

This next phase will focus on:

💧 Water

🍞 Bread

🥬 Fresh Vegetable/Fruit parcels

Distribution is expected to begin by the end of this week.

As always, we will continue publishing updates, photos, receipts, and progress reports as distributions develop.

Thank you for helping us continue this work.

Please continue sharing.

Please continue giving.

Your donations are helping the most disadvantaged and poor families to survive this genocide. Every life supported or saved is a form of resistance. Thank you for being part of the resistance.

No family left behind.

🔗 https://chuffed.org/project/183781-gaza-forgotten-families-fund

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For the past months, my life has been measured not by hours or meetings, but by the relentless, daily pursuit of normalcy. As the founder of , my work has become an act of defiance. We are turning tents into classrooms and dust‑covered corners into spaces where children can remember how to dream.

I remember a morning last week, just after Omar’s 6th birthday. The heat in the tent was stifling, and the dust hung heavy in the air. Omar, who often follows me to the sites, found a discarded, broken pencil lead in the sand. He didn’t see it as trash. He sat down in the corner of the tent, using his own thumb to smudge the lead against a scrap of cardboard, carefully drawing a picture of a house with a window. “Baba,” he said, looking up at me with eyes that have seen too much, “Look, I can write my full name in Arabic. Is it nice?”

“Yes, baba. Yes. It’s the most beautiful name in the world.”

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In that moment, I realized that we are not just teaching children to read; we are helping them build and craft their skills. To open a book when the world around you is collapsing is to declare that you have a future. To teach a child to write their name is to insist that they exist.

My own life is inextricably woven into this struggle. I am an educator, yes, but I am first a father to Omar, Keenan, and Ibrahim.

Losing my father during this war was the moment the ground shifted beneath me. I learned then that when our elders are taken, the burden of passing on the story falls entirely to us. Now, when I walk into one of our tent schools, I am not just a principal; I am a guardian of a future that many have tried to erase.

My team — Kathy, Amr, Sohaib, Sergio, Islam, Noor, Baraa, Hosam, and Saja — shows up every morning. They bring their grief, but they leave it at the door, choosing instead to bring patience to students who arrive with empty stomachs but hungry minds. We fight a daily war against scarcity, struggling to secure furniture and notebooks.

Running an educational project in a war zone is not a task for the faint of heart. It is a grueling, daily negotiation. Yet I am terrified of what would happen if I stopped. If I quit, the darkness wins by default.

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We are often told that the world is becoming multipolar, that power is shifting, and that geopolitics are dictated by the moves of great nations. But from my vantage point in a tented schoolhouse, the only power that matters is the resilience of the human spirit.

We are not just surviving; we are documenting our own endurance. We are writing our own history, one lesson, one meal, and one act of kindness at a time. As long as I have breath in my lungs, I will be here, ensuring that for my sons, for my students, and for our people, the light of knowledge continues to burn.

If you would like to support and his family, please consider donating to his personal campaign.

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I Write This Article With Hope in You

I write these words with the hope that they will reach your hearts, because behind every number mentioned in the news is a real human being with a story, a life, and dreams that were never given the chance to be fulfilled.

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Today, I want to tell you about my friend, my neighbor, and my childhood companion, Baraa Al-Madhoun.

Baraa is a young man from Gaza who is only 21 years old, almost the same age as me. We grew up together, attended school together, and shared the simple dreams and memories that every young person hopes to build their future upon.

But war forced Baraa to grow up much faster than he should have.

He lost his father, and after that, the responsibility of caring for the family fell on his older brother, Hani, who worked tirelessly to provide for them, protect them, and ensure they had a dignified life.

About a month ago, Hani and his friends were killed in an airstrike.

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In a single moment, the family lost the person they depended on the most.

Hani left behind Baraa and his siblings, and suddenly the responsibility of an entire family fell upon the shoulders of a young man who had barely reached adulthood.

And that was not the only tragedy.

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This month was supposed to be the month of Baraa’s wedding. He was preparing to begin a new chapter of his life with his fiancée. But Hani’s death was such a devastating shock that everything came to a halt. The plans for celebration disappeared and were replaced by grief, loss, and uncertainty.

Many people may think that Baraa is asking for a lot, but the painful truth is quite the opposite.

Baraa is not asking for a house, a business, or anything extraordinary.

All he hopes for is a tent to shelter his family and some financial support to help them survive the difficult conditions they face every day.

At this moment, these are his greatest wishes.

Baraa is one of many overlooked families in Gaza—families that do not have fundraising campaigns, do not know how to create them, and often lack the means to make their voices heard by the outside world.

That is why I decided to write about him and try to share his story with those who may be able to help.

I will be using my own donation link to collect support for Baraa. I kindly ask anyone who wishes to contribute to specify that their donation is intended for Baraa, so that we can maintain complete transparency and accountability.

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This is the land where the tent will be set up once we’re able to purchase it.

Once sufficient support has been collected, I will document the purchase of the tent and its installation on Baraa’s land, allowing everyone to see exactly how their contribution has helped.

Perhaps we cannot change the reality of war, but we can ease the suffering of one person, one family, and one story among thousands.

Baraa is not just a name in an article. He is a young man who lost his father and his older brother, whose future and dreams have been put on hold by circumstances he never chose.

If you are able to help, please do not hesitate. And if you cannot contribute financially, sharing his story may help it reach someone who can.

Thank you to everyone who continues to support the people of Gaza, and to everyone who still believes that humanity can make a difference, no matter how small that difference may seem.

📎 https://chuffed.org/project/174135-seven-lives-one-20-year-old-help-abood-survive-this

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In the early days of the genocide in Gaza, as Israeli occupation forces advanced toward the outskirts of the Gaza Strip, the town of Beit Hanoun was living through some of its darkest hours. Many residents did not realize how close the occupation forces had come, so they remained inside their homes, clinging to what little hope they had left and trying to survive amid bombardment, fear, and siege.

Inside one of those homes lived a simple family: a father, a mother, and their children, struggling to endure like thousands of other families. They had managed to store some food and had a solar power system that helped them survive those dark days, believing it might give them a better chance of staying alive.

But war does not ask permission.

One day during the siege, the mother was holding her infant child in her arms. It was an ordinary moment in the life of a mother who spent her days embracing her children, protecting them, and giving them comfort. She did not know it would be the last moment of her life.

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Suddenly, a bullet fired by an Israeli occupation soldier pierced her body. She collapsed to the ground in front of her husband and children, and within a single second, life inside that home turned into a tragedy beyond words.

The husband rushed toward her in disbelief. He called her name again and again. He shook her gently, trying desperately to wake her. He attempted to save her and revive her by every means he could think of. He clung to every shred of hope, refusing to accept the reality unfolding before his eyes.

But the truth was too cruel to deny.

His wife, his life partner, and the mother of his children had been killed.

The man sat beside her in shock, unable to comprehend what to do next. He could not leave the house because of the siege, the snipers, and the danger surrounding them. He could not even give his wife the basic dignity of a proper burial.

Imagine losing the person dearest to your heart and then being denied the chance to say goodbye.

He spent hours thinking of a way to preserve his wife’s dignity. He looked at her face, at his children, and at the walls that imprisoned them all. Then he made a decision he had never imagined he would have to make.

He placed his wife’s body inside the refrigerator.

Not because his heart could bear it, but because he had no other choice.

He carefully placed her inside, closed the door, and tied it shut with ropes so that it would not open, as if he were trying to protect her one last time or delay a farewell he was not ready to face.

But the real pain stood before that refrigerator every day.

Her young children would stand before the closed door and call out:

“Mom… Mom… Mom…”

They waited for her to come out as she always had.

They believed she could hear them.

They believed she would answer.

Their father stood helpless before those heartbreaking cries. He watched his children reaching their hands toward the refrigerator, calling for their mother while tears filled his eyes.

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Later, the father said that the hardest thing he had ever experienced was not the siege, not the hunger, and not even the fear of death.

It was watching his children call for their martyred mother while he was unable to explain the truth.

How can a small child understand that his mother will never come back?

How can a broken-hearted father tell his children that the arms they once ran to for comfort are gone forever?

He said he cried silently, grieving for his children even more than for himself. He did not know what to tell them, how to convince them that their mother had left this world, or how to ask them to stop waiting for her.

The hours passed with unbearable slowness.

The siege grew harsher.

And the refrigerator holding his wife’s body stood in the corner of the house as a silent witness to a tragedy beyond imagination.

Many times, the man thought about leaving the house and confronting the occupation forces, regardless of the outcome. He thought about ending all the pain at once.

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But then he would look at his children.

He saw the fear in their eyes.

He knew they had no one left in this world except him.

So he endured.

He endured for them.

He remained strong for them.

And he continued trying to protect them even as his heart bled with every passing moment.

The siege lasted for two and a half days.

Two and a half days spent beside his children and the body of his martyred wife inside the refrigerator.

Two and a half days of tears, fear, waiting, and helplessness.

Two and a half days during which he could not bury her, say goodbye to her, or give her the grave she deserved.

Then, at last, relief arrived.

After a limited withdrawal of Israeli occupation forces, civil defense crews were finally able to reach the area. They found the father, his children, and the body of the martyred wife, and evacuated them from the scene.

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This story was recounted by one of the civil defense workers who personally participated in the rescue operation. It became known to many residents of northern Gaza who lived through those painful days and witnessed their horrors.

This is not a story from a novel.

It is not a scene from a movie.

It is not the imagination of a writer trying to exaggerate suffering.

This is a true story from Gaza.

The story of a mother killed while holding her baby.

The story of a father forced to place his wife’s body in a household refrigerator because he could not bury her.

And the story of children who stood for two and a half days before that refrigerator door, calling for their mother, unaware that death had taken her from them forever.

It is one of thousands of stories that never reached television screens, and one of countless tragedies endured by the people of Gaza away from the cameras.

Once again, this article is based on a true story told by a civil defense worker who witnessed these events firsthand. We ask only that you respect the reality and suffering of the people of Gaza, remember them in your prayers, and help them in any way you can.

Behind every number announced, every image published, and every headline that quickly disappears, there is a human being who once had a life, dreams, a family, and a story that may be more painful than words can ever describe.

Manufacturing Dissent exists because of you. We’re independent—powered only by readers and listeners. For less than a coffee, you can join us. Annual memberships are 30% off. Stand with us. Fuel citizen journalism. Keep dissent alive.

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If you want to support Abood in Gaza, you can donate to his campaign or become a paid subscriber.

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