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ˑ ֺ ָ⋆.𖥔 ۫ ּ ֗ ۪ ⊹ ࣪𓂂⊹ kelela - "a message" ˑ ֺ⋆ ֗ ִ˖ ࣪𓂂 𐫰 ࣪ ⊹ ᳝ ּ
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Before the war, after I left Gaza for Germany, I used to call my dad almost everday and tell him about my day. He would tell me how everyone else was doing and say that Salah,my little nephew, kept asking where I was.
Now, I hardly ever reach my parents or any of my siblings.I don't think Salah even remembers who I am any more as he struggles to carry water containers. I always find myself agonizing and wondering if I'll ever meet my family again, whether the newborns will see me one day and know that their uncle longs to hold them in his arms.
Every time I look at my dad's picture in our home, smiling and surrounded by his grandchildren, it breaks my heart into a million pieces. The house he dreamed the kids would grow up in was leveled to the ground in a split second. Nothing is left, not even both his shoe shops where he worked so hard to build a future for us all. My siblings are unable to work or finish their studies. There are no schools left for the children. There is no proper food, water, or sanitation, no life; only death and rubble all around.
When my brother sent me a photo of my dad lighting a fire, he still had that same old smile on his face. I was relieved to see him somewhat hopeful but it broke my heart even more. My father is the most resilient and hard-working man I've ever known. He always supported us in whatever we wanted to achieve. His only hope was that his grandkids would grow up safely and happily in their home. He never complained from work and taught us the true meaning of sacrifice and perseverance. Instead of living peacefully with his family, he, the kids, and everyone else have to endure life in a makeshift tent,God knows for how much longer, while their lives are constantly threatened by airstrikes, starvation, and disease. No child, elder, or adult should go through such hardships for this long.
As the injustice persists, we only find solace and hope because the free people of this world are still standing with us. Please continue to support us any way you can. I don't even have the words any more to say how grateful I am to everyone. You have already done so much for us but we need you now more than ever.
Please donate if you can and reblog as many times as possible.
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Unknown, Fritware tile panel, painted in blue, turquoise, and moss green under a transparent glaze. Turkey, Iznik; c. 1540
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there's a kind of person called a "bad person" and if we just kill all of those guys everything will be great
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children’s dreams / al-yarmouk, palestinian refugee camp in damascus, syria
little palestine; diary of a siege (2021) dir. abdallah al khatib
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