Peace be upon you my friends,
I am Moayad Darweesh from Gaza, and I am writing with a very heavy, tired heart — and with hope that this message reaches those with compassion.
Just today, my wife Dalia gave birth to our second child — a baby boy born into this tragedy,surrounded by rubble, fear, and the sound of explosions. He is underweight, fragile, and already fighting to survive. We have no milk. No clean water. No safe place.
I want to tell you the story of me and my family. Not for pity,but so you understand. So you see us not as numbers, but as a family who once lived, loved, and dreamed , just like yours.
Before the war, we had a beautiful life. A close family. A peaceful home. Gaza was full of love and laughter. All of that is gone now. My parents, my siblings — all killed. My home — destroyed.
Just two weeks ago, my beloved uncle Mahmoud, was killed by a sniper while trying to get food from an aid trap. There was no aid. Only a bullet, ending his life. He was killed while trying to bring some flour for his starving children. We didn’t just lose him, we lost a piece of our soul.. Now, it’s just me, my wife, our daughter, our newborn son. I only have one uncle, one brother left from my family.
Dalia — my dear, beautiful Dalia — has been sick for so long. The pregnancy and endless hunger drained her strength . She gave birth in the harshest of conditions, she had a c section. She hasn’t been able to eat properly in days. Her body is too weak to produce milk.
Our little daughter, Hala, the light of my life is now always afraid. She clings to my leg whenever she hears the sounds of planes or drones, I hold her and tell her not to cry, but I am broken- knowing I can’t protect her. She hasn’t slept a full night in months. Nor have we.
We live in a tent under scorching heat, displaced too many times to count. My sweet baby Hala has also developed a skin condition, from the insects in the tent, which we suffer in. Even my phone, our only connection to the world, is damaged. It fell from my hand while I was running from drone fire with my daughter in my arms. Without it, I lose access to the donations that help us survive. I lose the last lifeline we have..
You can help us feed our newborn son. You can help us get milk, buy medicine, food, necessities that can ease the suffering just a little. We have nothing else. We are alone except for the kindness of strangers.
I am not asking for comfort. I’m not asking for safety. I’m just asking for a chance — for my son to grow. For my daughter to eat. For my wife to heal. For us to live.
If you can give even one dollar — or share our story — it means the world. Your kindness is all we have left.
Thank you. Your time, your heart, your generosity — they are not small things to us. They are everything.
With all the love and hope I have left,
— Moayad