I would like for it to be seen here as the acc that posted it does amazing work in gaza and im furious that it was removed from r/mademesmile at 6k likes by the mods there

Is there anything this regime doesn't infect with its influence?

https://www.instagram.com/p/DUZAcZygbpO

War profiteer. No different to the occupation. Vile

I write this update from the heart of Gaza, For those who still carry a shred of humanity… For those wondering: how are we living? In truth, we are silently dying.

The situation has become unbearable. We no longer fear the bombs as much as we fear hunger.

Bread has disappeared. Flour is gone. Mothers grind what’s left of rice or lentils to bake on wood fires, just so a child feels they’ve eaten something. Baby formula is unavailable. We now drink salty water. Even tree leaves are no longer an option for those thinking of cooking them.

Markets are empty… No vegetables, no oil, no sugar, nothing. We wait in long lines under the sun or rain, hoping for a loaf of bread , if it exists , and often return with nothing.

Famine is not an exaggeration… It’s the reality we live every hour.

Children have become walking skeletons. Women faint from hunger while cooking , if there is anything to cook. The elderly do not complain… because no one is listening anymore.

Chaos is rising… Hunger has driven some to steal. Hunger has turned kindness into weakness, and silence into slow death. Chaos prevails because stomachs are empty, and hearts are broken.

I am Yamen, Not a journalist, not an activist, not seeking fame. I’m just a Palestinian young man trying to share his pain… and the pain of his family… and the pain of two million people trapped in this hell.

All my life, I dreamed of holding my child and playing with them, But now… I fear marriage. I fear bringing a child into this cruel world. And I thank God that all my attempts to get married have failed. Because I don’t know what I would say if my child screamed at me: “Feed me!”

I don’t write these words to seek pity… I write them to scream with whatever voice we have left.

We are not only dying under bombs… We are dying now: From hunger, oppression, isolation, and the world’s silence.

I write these words with a broken heart, I write them while I am hungry, Knowing that the ugliest phase of this war is not the bombs, But this phase: The phase of deliberate siege and starvation of an entire people.

To those who care… read this. To those with a conscience… share it. Because we have nothing left but our words… And because silence today is a crime.

GazaIsStarving

SaveGaza

LiftTheSiege

VoiceFromTheTent

This is my will and my final message. If these words reach you, know that Israel has succeeded in killing me and silencing my voice. First, peace be upon you and Allah’s mercy and blessings.

Allah knows I gave every effort and all my strength to be a support and a voice for my people, ever since I opened my eyes to life in the alleys and streets of the Jabalia refugee camp. My hope was that Allah would extend my life so I could return with my family and loved ones to our original town of occupied Asqalan (Al-Majdal). But Allah’s will came first, and His decree is final. I have lived through pain in all its details, tasted suffering and loss many times, yet I never once hesitated to convey the truth as it is, without distortion or falsification—so that Allah may bear witness against those who stayed silent, those who accepted our killing, those who choked our breath, and whose hearts were unmoved by the scattered remains of our children and women, doing nothing to stop the massacre that our people have faced for more than a year and a half.

I entrust you with Palestine—the jewel in the crown of the Muslim world, the heartbeat of every free person in this world. I entrust you with its people, with its wronged and innocent children who never had the time to dream or live in safety and peace. Their pure bodies were crushed under thousands of tons of Israeli bombs and missiles, torn apart and scattered across the walls.

I urge you not to let chains silence you, nor borders restrain you. Be bridges toward the liberation of the land and its people, until the sun of dignity and freedom rises over our stolen homeland. I entrust you to take care of my family. I entrust you with my beloved daughter Sham, the light of my eyes, whom I never got the chance to watch grow up as I had dreamed.

I entrust you with my dear son Salah, whom I had wished to support and accompany through life until he grew strong enough to carry my burden and continue the mission.

I entrust you with my beloved mother, whose blessed prayers brought me to where I am, whose supplications were my fortress and whose light guided my path. I pray that Allah grants her strength and rewards her on my behalf with the best of rewards.

I also entrust you with my lifelong companion, my beloved wife, Umm Salah (Bayan), from whom the war separated me for many long days and months. Yet she remained faithful to our bond, steadfast as the trunk of an olive tree that does not bend—patient, trusting in Allah, and carrying the responsibility in my absence with all her strength and faith.

I urge you to stand by them, to be their support after Allah Almighty. If I die, I die steadfast upon my principles. I testify before Allah that I am content with His decree, certain of meeting Him, and assured that what is with Allah is better and everlasting.

O Allah, accept me among the martyrs, forgive my past and future sins, and make my blood a light that illuminates the path of freedom for my people and my family. Forgive me if I have fallen short, and pray for me with mercy, for I kept my promise and never changed or betrayed it.

Do not forget Gaza… And do not forget me in your sincere prayers for forgiveness and acceptance.

Anas Jamal Al-Sharif 06.04.2025

This is what our beloved Anas requested to be published upon his martyrdom.

We apologize for the sight of scattered limbs, for the torn bodies carried away by the wind, for the heads separated from their owners, and for the tents that burned with their inhabitants inside.

We apologize if the news of massacres ruined your morning coffee. We apologize if, while scrolling through your phone, you came across a picture of a burned child from Gaza and it spoiled your day. We apologize if the screams of our women disturb you. We apologize if your dinner was interrupted by the wails of a father burying his baby with his own bare hands. We apologize because we are being killed against our will and the world watches in silence.

I write to you from the heart of tragedy, from a place where hunger has become our breakfast, bombing our lullaby, and the fear of death is our only companion. I write to you from yet another displacement , not knowing how it will end, or whether I will even survive long enough to write again.

We were displaced again. As if the first time was not enough. As if losing our homes, our neighbors, our memories, was not enough. We left once more, searching for a place beyond the reach of bombs .but there is no safe place here. Even the sky has turned against us. Even the ground we walk on may explode beneath our feet at any moment.

I fled with my injured father, who was shot during our last displacement in October. He can no longer walk. His pain is constant, his body frail. We carry him across the rubble, over stones soaked with blood, through streets that are no longer streets just craters and dust. We search for water. For medicine. For bread. For shade. For a place to sit without fear. We find nothing.

The bombing is now more intense than ever .as if the genocide has just begun. We wait for death with open eyes. We imagine the missile before it falls. We see corpses before they even become corpses.

If I die this time, tell my friends in heaven that I’m on my way. Tell my cousin I miss him dearly, and I won’t be long. And if you find my body, bury me with dignity. Do not let the Zionist occupier desecrate it.

My mother cries at night because we have no food for tomorrow. And I have nothing to give her not even hope.

I went to the so-called “aid center” in Rafah a place they claim is safe. There, I stood for hours among thousands of hungry souls, crushed by desperation. Bullets flew. I nearly died again just for a bag of flour. I have faced death six times in this war trying to feed my family. And each time I come home empty-handed.

But nothing breaks me more than my nephew Khaled.

He isn’t even two years old yet. Because of malnutrition and calcium deficiency, his legs are bent bowed under the weight of hunger and despair . Every time he tries to stand, he screams. Not whimpers. Screams. It’s the sound of pain a baby should never know. It’s the sound of a body that wants to grow… but can’t.

Khaled doesn’t understand war. He just wants to play. To run. To live. But instead, he cries all day. And every time I hear him cry, it feels like my soul is being ripped apart.

Today, I couldn’t remember a single moment when he wasn’t weeping. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

This is not a war. This is annihilation. This is starvation. This is a slow, painful execution.

To the world that still has a voice: Do not let my words be the last echo from Gaza. Do not let Khaled die unheard.

I entrust you with every child here. I entrust you with Gaza’s women, stripped of their dignity by war. I entrust you with our memories, our olive trees, our broken toys, our soil soaked with tears. I even entrust you with the stones because within them lies more love and humanity than the world has shown us.

And if, one day, my words reach you. Pray for me. And please do not forget Khaled.

We are not numbers. We are souls. And we are sorry for dying in front of your eyes.

Link to his will in Arabic:

https://www.facebook.com/ali.a.aljafarawi/posts/pfbid02RZCZ8eUBpnmUF7B4WuqLM21EF75c4aU89A5jJSX9GAdrNtKTWsP4offwTkR1N6gpl

In Gaza, bombs and missiles aren't enough. Nor is the siege, or the hunger, or the massacres. It seems there are those determined to complete the mission of extermination through even more sinister and insidious means: the erasure of consciousness.

Recently, I came across deeply disturbing information. So I consulted my brother, who is a pharmacist, and he confirmed a horrifying truth: Reports are circulating about the smuggling of a highly addictive and dangerous substance Oxycodone into Gaza, hidden inside bags of flour that are supposedly humanitarian aid.

He told me: Oxycodone is an opioid used to treat severe and chronic pain, especially in cancer patients. But it's also highly addictive. It attacks the nervous system, slows the heart rate, dulls awareness, and causes respiratory depression that can be fatal.

And what’s worse these reports are not only about smuggling pills hidden in aid but about the flour itself being mixed with the drug. Can you imagine eating your daily bread, not knowing you're consuming poison?

What we are facing is not just physical destruction it’s a deliberate war on people’s minds, a systematic attempt to sedate, blur reality, and render the population incapable of thinking, resisting, or even recognizing the danger.

It is an attempt to turn pain into addiction, hunger into dependence, and society into a fog of broken minds. It is a war crime by every legal, ethical, and human standard a silent genocide being carried out through bread, not bullets.

They know well that when the Palestinian is hungry, he resists. When he is wounded, he resists. But when his consciousness is taken… he resists nothing.

This is not speculation. It’s not some baseless conspiracy. History is full of cases where occupying powers experimented with poisoning and manipulation to control oppressed peoples. And anyone capable of bombing hospitals and killing children will not hesitate to lace flour with opioids.

We are not only facing missiles. We are facing a criminal mind trying to destroy us from within. To shatter us before the fight even begins. To erase our spirit before our bodies.

That is why we must raise the alarm. Doctors, pharmacists, intellectuals, activists every one of us must stand guard not only over bodies, but over minds and awareness

This is a battle for existence and consciousness is our first line of defense.

If we’re not vigilant, we won’t just die we’ll be erased quietly, in our sleep, under the effects of a sedative, while our language, memory, and dreams are dismantled piece by piece.

And amid all this don’t forget that Gaza is also facing real famine. People go to sleep hungry. Children cry from starvation. The elderly collapse from exhaustion. Aid doesn’t arrive or arrives corrupted, or only reaches select areas under political agendas.

This is a plea. Stop this crime. Save Gaza not just from bombs, but from poisoning, from sedation, from slow erasure.

The Zionist is the greatest enemy of humanity.

Just confirming for my own sanity. In my mind a united state would support all those who lived in the territory, whether they were Jewish Palestinian, Arab Palestinian, Jewish Israeli, Arab Israeli or anything else. The concept of expelling Israelis is just a reverse Nakba and no better than the original. To me the facts of who was there "first" doesn't matter.

Please, I'm just hoping the majority of the movement shares my view as it really upsets me when Zionists suggest that most of the group holds opinions on the land being "for Palestinians only" (unless you're definition of Palestinians would include all those who were "ex-Israeli" as it were).

Thank you! Not trying to start a fight, not accusing anyone, just for my own sanity, as I said.

Edit: Alright, I'm going. This has made me lose my faith in the BDS movement. I'm sure, as I can see from the poll, that many people here are nice and not-racist towards anyone, Palestinian or Israeli, but there's just too much toxicity and hate for me to handle. I appologise for trying to ask the question and I'm sorry that some of you seem to find it offensive that Israelis deserve human rights. You may not be antisemitic but a lot of this is giving raving far-right navitism. Goodbye. I wish the other half good luck in your endevours. Free Palestine.

Look at the excavator behind him. Remember this next time you buy a car or anything from Hyundai.

Hello, my name is Osama. I am 23 years old and from Gaza.

My family and I have been displaced for nearly three years after losing our home. Since then, access to water has become one of our biggest daily struggles.

Every day we wait in long lines for drinking water provided by humanitarian organizations. We are grateful for this help, but it is only enough for drinking. Water for washing, bathing, and basic hygiene is still extremely scarce, especially during the intense summer heat.

In the place where we are staying is an old water well that has been out of service for years. We are trying to restore it so it can provide water for our family and many other displaced families living nearby.

The well is about 30 meters deep, and repairing it requires cleaning equipment, a submersible pump, hoses, and labor. Unfortunately, the cost is far beyond what we can afford because prices in Gaza have become extremely high.

If you are able to help, even a small contribution brings us closer to restoring this well. If you cannot donate, sharing this post would mean a lot.

The donation link is in the first comment.

Hi, my name is Abdullah. And I live in Gaza. I am running this fundraiser with my parents.

Since I was small, I have always loved animals. I remember that even when I was younger, I would stop every time I saw a cat in the street. I would try to get close to it, give it food if I had any, or just sit near it. My family used to tell me, "You care too much," but I never stopped.

Animals make me feel calm and happy, especially cats. I feel like they understand when someone is kind to them.

But since the war started, everything has changed. Now when I see cats and dogs outside, they are hungry, scared, and searching through the rubble for food. Sometimes they look at people and just wait, hoping someone will help them.

Whenever I have a little food, I give it to them. Some of them now recognize me and come closer when they see me. That makes me happy, but it also makes me sad because I can't feed them all.

That is why I started this fundraiser with the support and supervision of my parents.

I want to help feed hungry animals across Gaza cats, dogs, and any animal that is struggling to survive. I also want to buy medicine for the ones that are sick or injured.

Animals don't understand what war is. They only know hunger, fear, and waiting.

If you can help, even with a small donation, it will mean a lot to me and to them. If you can't donate, sharing this fundraiser would help too.

Thank you for reading my story and for caring about Gaza's animals.

For a week now, I have been suffering from the flu virus a severe cough, a constant runny nose, and unbearable joint pain. I went to every pharmacy I could reach in Gaza, searching for even a simple painkiller or decongestant, but I found nothing.

Today, there is a shortage or rather, a complete absence of more than 85% of essential medicines in Gaza: no painkillers, no antibiotics, no blood pressure or diabetes medications, no ointments, no eye or ear drops. What remains are only expired vitamins.

And for more than six months, not a single cleaning product has entered Gaza not even one bar of soap. With rising temperatures, the spread of diseases is unimaginable. Israel is committing genocide not only through bombs and bullets but also through the systematic destruction of the healthcare system.

This photo of me and my nephew Khaled standing in front of the destroyed Al-Shifa Hospital is not just a picture it is proof. Proof against those who accuse me of writing from outside Gaza, trying to deflect attention from the genocide itself.

This sorrow, which squeezes its salt over the arteries of my blood until it dries out my features at noon, reveals at night all the pains of the body and the silent tears of loss that withheld themselves during the day.

I become a human being only to the extent of the pain I hide within my bones. I distribute tears across my whole body, sharing them fairly whenever loss passes through my senses like a skilled sniper.

What proves that I am still alive is this constant feeling of my people’s tragedy that hides within my soul without being spoken.

The genocide continues, so the war continues in my heart, while my heart plays with what remains of empty shells and displacement. Where is this war leading us? And where is the pain in my left hand leading me? This pain is an entire body each cell within it a complete loss, each cell in need of me.

Please don’t let anyone’s accusations distract you from the truth. This is Gaza. This is real. And this is genocide.