A letter from Gaza

Last Thursday marked a turning point for my family and me. Our beloved neighbourhood in Gaza City was obliterated in a brutal airstrike. The sight of crumbled homes and memories scattered in dust was gut-wrenching, but the decision to leave wasn't immediate.

It was Wassim, my 9-year-old, who made it clear. With tears streaming down his face, he clung to my leg and whispered: "Dad, I don't want to die". Those simple words from him were the push I needed. We had to leave; we had to find safety for our children.

Our journey brought us to Khan Younis, in the southern part of the Gaza Strip. I was relieved and felt fortunate to find a room for my family. In my heart, I had hoped Khan Younis would be a sanctuary, especially after the Israeli army's claims. But the sky rumbled and the ground shook, even here. The bombardments continued, shattering my hope of respite.

Beyond the relentless airstrikes, a different kind of battle rages on – the fight for basic necessities. My days are now consumed standing in long, weary queues under the scorching sun, with just one aim: to secure half a bag of bread and a can of drinking water for my family.

Each day brings its challenges, but amidst it all, the determination to survive and hope for better days remains undiminished.