By: Nourhan S :: 2 July 2026
This is the second of a series of testimonies from Gaza that I am publishing. You can also read Rania's story. All the testimonies will be gathered together under the tag War Stories. Simon.
My name is Nourhan. I was born in 1989, a woman who once had simple dreams, but today, I am a mother fighting an invisible, agonising war just to keep my six beautiful children alive. Before this nightmare began, our life was simple but filled with warmth and stability. Our home was a sanctuary where my children felt safe. They attended UNRWA schools—bright, talented souls with big dreams for a peaceful future. My husband holds a university degree in Early Childhood Education, and despite the scarce opportunities in Gaza, he worked as a teacher whenever he could. I, too, graduated from Al-Aqsa University with a degree in Education. But like thousands of youth here, the suffocating siege and unemployment locked those doors. Refusing to surrender, I taught myself digital marketing to support my family and to afford my own medical treatments.
Please Don’t Leave My Family Alone — We Are Fighting to Survive
Today, my family is living through a nightmare of displacement, hunger, illness, and fear. I am writing with a heart full of pain, asking you not to turn away from us. We have lost safety, stability, and the basic things every family needs to survive.
Before the war, life in Gaza was difficult, but we still had some sense of normal life. My husband worked first as a volunteer, and later as a private tutor through an informal educational institution. He was never able to secure a stable job with UNRWA, and work opportunities in Gaza were already extremely limited because unemployment was so high. Still, despite all the hardship, we had some safety, and prices were manageable. We were surviving.
Then the war destroyed everything.
When the bombing began, my youngest baby was only two months old. Her brothers and sisters were 4, 7, 10, 12, and 14 years old. My older children were old enough to understand the horror around them. They saw fear, destruction, and panic with their own eyes.
When we were ordered to evacuate, we fled to Rafah while danger closed in around us. We spent long nights in the streets with almost nothing, carrying only a few belongings. No one supported us. We were alone, hungry, terrified, and displaced.
The fear, exhaustion, and lack of food were so severe that my breast milk dried up while my baby was only two months old. I cannot describe the pain of watching my infant cry from hunger while I searched desperately for milk I could no longer provide. Formula became impossibly expensive, and we were forced to borrow money just to keep her alive. Since then, debt has continued to pile up on our shoulders.
Eventually, we found temporary shelter with a relative who had rented a piece of land and asked us to share the rent. We lived in a tiny makeshift space made of torn fabric, without proper water and without a bathroom. The cold was unbearable. Many nights we had to ask neighbors for blankets, and many nights we slept hungry and freezing.
Now we are living in another unsafe place, and even this fragile shelter is not secure. We are repeatedly forced to evacuate because of bombing and fear, and the owner of the land wants us to leave because he plans to sell it. The tent we live in is badly torn, and we urgently need a new one. We are suffering from insects and rodents, and there is no real safety or comfort for my children.
My children are also losing their education. Sometimes they try to get internet from the street, but only with great difficulty. Repeated internet cuts have made online learning almost impossible. Education in Gaza has become expensive and limited. I have five children of school age, and we need at least $200 every month just to cover one subject for each of them. The educational centers available now provide very little real learning — only a few hours a week, often far from where we are staying.
On top of all of this, our medical needs are overwhelming. I suffer from chronic illness and need ongoing treatment and monthly tests. My husband needs glasses, and so does my young son, who has an eye condition affecting his vision. One of my children is suffering from malnutrition and severe anemia and urgently needs proper food, treatment, and care.
I am carrying more than I can bear. I am trying to protect my children from hunger, illness, fear, and the loss of their future, but I cannot do this alone.
I am asking you from the depths of a mother’s heart: please stand with my family. Please help us with food, medicine, shelter, and education. Please help me give my children a chance to survive this nightmare with dignity.
If you cannot donate, please share my story with others. A share, a kind word, or a connection to someone who can help may save my family.
Please do not leave us alone.
You are our hope.
You can donate to Nourhan here. Her identity has been verified by the Gaza Verified volunteers.
