In the heart of Gaza, my name is Juman Abd Albari, and my story intertwines with the tumultuous reality of a land marked by conflict. As a fourth-year medical student, my excitement to embark on a clinical journey was abruptly shattered on October 7th. The once-clear path to my dreams became obscured by the smoke of war.

The very institution that held the promise of healing was razed to the ground, a casualty of forces beyond my control. Amidst the rubble, my focus shifted from textbooks to the immediate needs of my family, as our home succumbed to the same fate. Homeless and stranded in Rafah City, my aspirations took a backseat to the urgent quest for shelter and safety.

The resonance of my struggle extends beyond the personal as the specter of genocide looms over Gaza. In the midst of my disrupted education and shattered dreams, the stark reality of survival takes precedence. Every step forward is weighed down by the heavy burden of uncertainty, and the desire to escape the ravages of war becomes a lifeline.

However, the path to safety is paved with financial barriers, demanding a toll of $10,000 for each soul seeking refuge beyond Gaza's borders. The cruelty of war not only steals dreams but also exacts a monetary toll on those desperately seeking a haven.

This is not just my story; it is a collective cry from the heart of a conflict zone, where dreams are crushed, homes crumble, and survival becomes a daily battle. In the face of this adversity, I yearn not only for personal salvation but for the world to hear the silent plea of a community grappling with the aftermath of war.

As I navigate through the debris of what once was, my hope endures, fueled by the belief that the world will bear witness to the anguish of Gaza, extending a helping hand to those caught in the crossfire, yearning for a chance at a future unmarred by conflict.