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This is our story I hope you will read it. 👇🙏
I am Alian, Mira's father. I am a pharmacist, and Mira's mother also works in medical laboratories.
I write these words from Gaza, from a place where even the simplest of life's simplest tasks have become a daily struggle.
Some might think that surviving the war means the danger is over… but for us, survival is not a certain end.
The war is not over.
The indiscriminate bombing and siege have begun to besiege our lives, and we still hear news of martyrs and wounded every day. Specializations in fields with demands that bear no resemblance to the life we once knew.
Our day begins with the search for medicine. We stand for hours in queues until we get enough to last us. Then we search for potable water, and then another journey begins to find decent food.
Things that were once so simple… now consume all our energy and time.
Every day we ask ourselves: How long will we remain here?
I am a pharmacist. I spent years of my life learning how to help patients, how to give them wisdom and advice, and how to alleviate someone else's suffering.
My wife and I, along with medical lab technicians, were also selected for the mission to serve and help people.
We had our work, our dreams, our ambitions, and our plans for the future.
The plan was to continue our careers, to study further, to achieve higher academic qualifications, and perhaps even to complete our education abroad.
We had a future beyond our wildest dreams.
Then war struck and took everything from us.
We lost not only our home, our source of income, and our normal lives, but also the path we had been building for ourselves, step by step.
Yet… we did not give up.
We still cling to hope. To raise Mira amidst all this fear, to preserve our humanity, and to believe that our lives should not end here.
We are not beggars.
We are educated people, medical professionals, capable of working, earning a living, and helping others. We didn't choose these circumstances, nor did we choose to lose our jobs and our futures.
We are simply professionals, trying to seize a small opportunity to contribute what we have.
So when you support us, you're not giving us charity.
You're helping those who have lost everything to reclaim a part of yourselves.
You're helping a father who wants to see his daughter, Mira, grow up in safety, a mother who wants to further her professional skills, and a family who wants to eat and live with dignity instead of spending their days searching for bread and food.
We're not asking for transparency… we're asking for your attention, your support, and your presence.
If you see our story, don't just walk past it; you're not there.
A word, a share, a small donation… it could mean the world to us in our final days.
Help us reclaim a piece of the life that has been taken from us. 🤍
I am Alian, Mira's father. I am a pharmacist, and Mira's mother also works in medical laboratories.
I write these words from Gaza, from a place where even the simplest of life's simplest tasks have become a daily struggle.
Some might think that surviving the war means the danger is over… but for us, survival is not a certain end.
The war is not over.
The indiscriminate bombing and siege have begun to besiege our lives, and we still hear news of martyrs and wounded every day. Specializations in fields with demands that bear no resemblance to the life we once knew.
Our day begins with the search for medicine. We stand for hours in queues until we get enough to last us. Then we search for potable water, and then another journey begins to find decent food.
Things that were once so simple… now consume all our energy and time.
Every day we ask ourselves: How long will we remain here?
I am a pharmacist. I spent years of my life learning how to help patients, how to give them wisdom and advice, and how to alleviate someone else's suffering.
My wife and I, along with medical lab technicians, were also selected for the mission to serve and help people.
We had our work, our dreams, our ambitions, and our plans for the future.
The plan was to continue our careers, to study further, to achieve higher academic qualifications, and perhaps even to complete our education abroad.
We had a future beyond our wildest dreams.
Then war struck and took everything from us.
We lost not only our home, our source of income, and our normal lives, but also the path we had been building for ourselves, step by step.
Yet… we did not give up.
We still cling to hope. To raise Mira amidst all this fear, to preserve our humanity, and to believe that our lives should not end here.
We are not beggars.
We are educated people, medical professionals, capable of working, earning a living, and helping others. We didn't choose these circumstances, nor did we choose to lose our jobs and our futures.
We are simply professionals, trying to seize a small opportunity to contribute what we have.
So when you support us, you're not giving us charity.
You're helping those who have lost everything to reclaim a part of yourselves.
You're helping a father who wants to see his daughter, Mira, grow up in safety, a mother who wants to further her professional skills, and a family who wants to eat and live with dignity instead of spending their days searching for bread and food.
We're not asking for transparency… we're asking for your attention, your support, and your presence.
If you see our story, don't just walk past it; you're not there.
A word, a share, a small donation… it could mean the world to us in our final days.
Help us reclaim a piece of the life that has been taken from us. 🤍
