Jihad & Family

Jihad (23), Badr (10) & Family

My name is Jihad, and I am asking for help to keep my family alive.

Jihad’s family used to be over 1000 people. They are now less than 300.

They were forced to evacuate their home with nothing but the clothes they were wearing and a few blankets. Since then, they have been displaced nearly ten times, walking for hours and sometimes sleeping on the street. There were days with no food and no clean water. They drank salt water once because there was no other choice.

When they returned to what used to be their neighborhood, they found only rubble. Their home was gone. His university books were burned and scattered.
Everything they worked for — their memories, their future — disappeared.

Hello, my name is Emily, and I am starting this campaign on behalf of my very dear friend Jihad.

This campaign is for Jihad, his brothers Badr, Wissam, Nedal, his sisters Dia and Zein, and their parents — a single family trying to survive conditions that are impossible to describe unless you are living them.

Jihad is my friend. Over time, his family has become my people too.

When I say we, I mean us. We have been navigating this together for over two years now. I know what mood they wake up in. I know how quickly money disappears in a single day. I know what they eat for dinner, when they have a good day, when it’s someone’s birthday, when it’s raining, when someone is at the market — or when they just don’t feel like talking to me (because Badr is 10 and he’s playing a video game and I’m old news).

We argue. We laugh. We cry.
They tell me to go outside. They panic if they do not hear back from me within minutes. We exchange "I am fine if you are fine" daily every morning when we wake up.

I know what it means when one of them messages to say they’re hungry, or worried the money is about to run out, or that their toes are turning blue from the cold. I’m Googling how to avoid hypothermia with basic household supplies and making sure they follow my instructions exactly.

This isn’t about rebuilding a life right now. It’s about survival — about reminding the world that a ceasefire doesn’t mean safety, recovery, or normal life. There is no way to make money. There is no infrastructure. There is no security. Survival depends entirely on outside support, and without it, families like Jihad’s are forced into impossible choices every single day.

Every day, Jihad and his family are choosing between food or medicine or shelter repairs. Never mind saving for a possible evacuation, or dreaming about college abroad.
Jihad was pre-law. Zein was pre-med.
The occupation stole that.

It stole Badr’s ability to read and write.
It stole Dia’s ability to gossip with friends on her phone.
It stole Nedal’s dream of buying his fiancée an engagement gift — let alone a home.
Wissam only dreams of having a fire he can build with wood, instead of burning plastic.
That was stolen too.

Without outside support, families like theirs don’t just struggle — they can fall apart very quickly. Jihad and I talk often about not giving up, and I keep promising him I’ll try harder to get him the support he needs.

So please help me do that.

I’ve learned through this work that direct aid is not abstract. It is immediate. It means food today. Medicine when someone gets sick. Fixing what can be fixed so a family can stay together and make it through another week.

This campaign exists so we can continue showing up for them in a real way.

Every donation goes directly toward helping Jihad and his family access food, medicine, shelter support, and basic necessities.

These are people I care about deeply. They are kind, resilient, exhausted — and still trying. They deserve dignity, safety, and the chance to survive.

Thank you for trusting me with this.
Thank you for being part of our community.
And thank you for helping us keep Jihad and his family alive.

— Emily