I arrived in Ghent from Gaza in 2018. After being granted refugee status, I tried to build a new life here. It wasn’t easy, as I was completely alone.
Fortunately, I soon got in touch with Een Hart voor Vluchtelingen (“A Heart for Refugees”), where I met many people. Marijke, in particular, holds a special place in my heart. She is like a second mother to me. I also try to give something back as a volunteer with Een Hart voor Vluchtelingen. I work there in the sewing workshop as an upholsterer — the trade I learned from my father.
When I was 13 years old, I became the victim of an Israeli airstrike on my way home from school. Unlike some of my friends, I survived the attack, but I had to undergo several surgeries on my leg. I never fully recovered, which prevents me from working full time.
In 2023, I obtained Belgian citizenship, which finally allowed me to travel to Egypt. I spent the last days of Ramadan there with my mother. I promised baba (dad) that next year it would be his turn.
But then everything changed...
Since October 7th, my life has come to a standstill. We’ve experienced many wars in Gaza, but this time is different. Fear and uncertainty about the fate of my family have taken over my life.
Our house in Gaza City was bombed. My baba didn’t survive the bombing. My mother and my little cousins were seriously injured.
Our house had been destroyed before, but my father always rebuilt it. Now my father is gone — and we have nothing left.
My family fled from Gaza to Khan Younis, and then further to Rafah. They’ve lost everything and are living in extremely difficult conditions.
In a desperate attempt to get my mother to safety, I went to Egypt in February 2024. I paid a lot of money to try to get her and my nephew out of Gaza. Full of hope, I waited in Egypt for good news — but unfortunately...
By now, the border has been closed for over a year. My family is living in tents on the beach. There’s no medication, not enough food…
I feel responsible for them, but there is so little I can do to help. The fear and uncertainty over their fate dominate my life. Sometimes I can’t reach them for days — even weeks. All I can do is hope they are still alive, and follow the news, praying not to see their names among the victims.
Thankfully, I can always count on the support of Mama Marijke. She is always there for me.