Brazil 2024 | Hungary 2024 | The Smiths, Bigmouth Strikes Again
🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿
I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.
My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.
But in an instant, it was all gone.
A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.
That was just the beginning.
The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?
We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.
No home.
No food.
No clean water.
No way out.
I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.
I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.
I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.
Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.
Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.
đź’š Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. đź’š
Because of You, We Still Have Hope 💙🙏
There are moments when it feels like the world has moved on, like everything we’ve lost is just another story that people scroll past. But every now and then, kindness reminds us that we are not forgotten.
Today, we’ve reached $1,580 out of $90,000, and while it’s still a long way from what we need, it’s proof that people still care. That hope still exists.
I never thought I would be in a position where I had to ask for help just to survive. 25 members of my family are gone. Our home has been reduced to rubble. Every day is a fight—not just for survival, but to hold onto the smallest piece of dignity.
đź’” No stability, no safety, no certainty. đź’” Evacuations, grief, and endless struggles. đź’” Dreams on hold, because survival comes first.
But through all of this, your kindness gives me strength.
Even if you can’t donate, just sharing this post helps us reach more people who might be able to. Your support—no matter how small—makes all the difference.
🙏 If this post has reached you unexpectedly, I truly apologize. I promise I wouldn’t be asking if we weren’t in desperate need. If this isn’t for you, please feel free to ignore it. No hard feelings at all.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Your kindness is the only reason we still have hope. ❤️