A Mother's Hope for Her Children
My name is Rahaf. I am a mother of seven, and I am from Gaza. My family of nine lives in a tent, under extremely difficult circumstances.
Most of my days are devoted to keeping my children alive and caring for their most basic needs. I light fires and spend hours cooking food and heating water for them. Even firewood is something we can barely afford, but we have no other choice.
Our tent is far from a safe place. Insects, fleas, cockroaches, and rats surround us. At night, I worry constantly about my children. I cannot always protect them from the things that crawl around us, and the fear of what might happen to them never truly leaves me.
Yet, despite everything, my children continue to dream.
One day, I asked them to draw what they wished for most. They drew a home, safety, peace, security, and freedom—the things the war has taken from them. When I look at their drawings, I see both the depth of their loss and the strength of their hope. Their wishes are simple, yet they are things every child should be able to take for granted.
My youngest son is not yet three years old. He was born during the war and has never known a world beyond it. Recently, he finally received a toy. I watched his face light up, and for a moment, I saw a kind of happiness that had been missing from his life for so long. It was a small moment, but it meant everything to me. I wish a child's happiness did not have to be so rare.
Another of my sons is quiet and patient far beyond his years. Behind his smile lies a story he rarely tells. He does not ask for much. Like any child, he simply deserves the opportunity to grow up in peace.
As a mother, I carry the fear and responsibility of protecting my children every day. I see what they endure, the things they have lost, and the childhood they deserve to experience. I want the world to understand what life in these tents means for families like mine, especially for children who should be spending their days learning, playing, and discovering the world rather than struggling to survive.
But I also want people to know that we are still here, still hoping. For my children's sake, we endure each day and continue to dream of something better. Our dreams may seem small, but they mean everything to us: a home, a safe night, a childhood filled with laughter, and a future in which my children can live without fear.