My brothers and friends, this is the first time I’m saying this in front of you here. We are hungry. We only have water. You have done so much for us, and I will never forget my mother, Lynn, Amila, Mary, Erin, David, Elvira, Mackenzie, the Bosnian people, and the Canadian community for their continuous support. I need your support in these difficult times. Don’t forget me. Talk about my family.
“Allah is sufficient for us, and He is the best disposer of affairs.”
These days have drained everything. There has never been anything like them, my mother. We can’t buy anything; everything is expensive. To eat every day, you need at least $300 after the commission. These are the actions of Muslims. Does this please Allah?
Less than two years ago, I was a young man, a husband, a father, an uncle, enjoying life in Gaza. I owned a successful business. I was providing for my family. My life was full and happy. Days were filled with prayer, music, dance, laughter, food, and love. I was surrounded by family and friends. My children were enjoying the freedoms that being a child brings: friends, school, and time at the beach. Yes, we were still enduring life under an oppressive occupation (75 years and counting), but we had managed to carve out a life.
Now, that life is a distant memory. Our strength, our health, our beautiful days are gone. Left in its place is rubble, tears, fear, grief, death, exhaustion, anger, and pain.
Relocate and move, and relocate and move. A never-ending cycle. Packing up only essentials—little of what our previous life was. Encouraging my family through the arduous travel. My children bearing witness to carnage, hearing constantly the sound of gunfire, drones, smells, and explosions. The voices of the maimed, injured, grieving, and dying forever etched on their very souls.
And still, strength must be found.
Gaza has become a place of heavy darkness. Palestinians are beyond exhausted. Walking kilometres to secure a mere 10 litres of drinking water is a journey of great danger—a journey you may not return from alive. A good night’s sleep is impossible. I must be alert to everything around me to protect my family—protecting them from rodents and other night crawlers, bombs and drones, explosions and fire. Rest is not truly possible.
And still, strength must be found.
Palestinians—we are exhausted, beyond depleted. Gaza has become a place of darkness. I play a role that is much bigger than me. I try to be a real support for my family. Every day, I say the beautiful day will come, but it never comes. The search for food, water, and dignity never ends.
And still, strength must be found.
I have learned that there are beautiful people from miles away—human beings that come together to raise funds for my family, for our very survival. I will tell you this: I receive an email notifying me of monies received—the full amount. I must pay a 45% commission. For example, if I receive $500, I receive $275. This is a very great injustice that is being done to us. This is the reality.
And still, strength must be found.
Words alone cannot fully express my gratitude. “Thank you” seems not enough. My family and I will never forget what you have done and continue to do. The difference your compassion has made to my very existence and that of my family—my children—is beyond words. It is unconditional love.
What will become of my Gaza, my homeland, my beloveds, my people?
Palestine needs a miracle. Palestine needs your prayers. Palestine needs your voice.
Palestinians deserve basic human rights. Palestinians deserve peace. Palestinians deserve a life lived with joy and love.
And still, strength must be found.
Madje’s brother-in law #
Madje’s brother-in-law was shot trying to get food. Support is needed as he is the sole provider for his family. He can’t walk at all. His spleen was removed, along with 15 cm of intestine and stomach wounds.
