A Sad Story from the Heart of Gaza

I am Muhammad Salah, living in Gaza with my family of nine. Life here is not easy; it is filled with challenges and difficulties. Every day, we wake up with new hope, but this hope quickly fades in the face of a bitter reality.

My story begins on a sunny morning when the children were getting ready to go to school. But we didn't have enough food to feed them. I stood in the kitchen, searching the cupboards for crumbs of bread or leftovers, but all I found was a suffocating silence. I felt anxious, thinking about how I would tell them that we couldn't buy food today.

As the days passed, I began to feel the heavy burden I was carrying. I saw in my children's eyes an innocence that didn't deserve to be deprived of food and drink. They would innocently ask me, "When will we eat, Dad?" My heart broke because I couldn't promise them anything.

I decided to go out into the street, hoping to find any help. I saw some people suffering like us and realized that I was not alone in this pain. Yet, the pain still gripped my heart. I watched other children playing and laughing while I searched for a morsel to eat.

One day, a neighbor came to me and offered a bag containing some flour and rice. That moment was like a ray of hope in an impenetrable darkness. I returned home and started preparing a simple meal for my family. When they saw the food, their eyes filled with joy, but I knew that this joy would not last long.

In the end, wishes remain in my heart. I pray that God grants us strength and patience in facing these hardships and provides us with the food and drink we need. Despite everything, I believe that hope still exists, and tomorrow may bring us relief.