Hello my name Ileana Rita Cosentino. I am opening this campaign on behalf of my beloved friend Kholoud Alkahlout, a brilliant student in English Literature at Al-Azhar University in Gaza. Their family is in dire needs. Together we can help them facing the inhuman conditions they are forced to live.
On Instagram: @khloud._kahlout
@ileanaritacosentino
Here below her words:
A Normal Life: The Dream We Can’t Reach
My name is Kholoud, I am 21 years old, and I come from Gaza. Never in my life did I imagine I would have to launch a fundraising campaign, but as everyone knows—this is Gaza. I never thought the day would come when circumstances would force me into this, yet we have been thrust into a cruel reality that robbed us of our safety and turned the rest of the world into nothing more than a distant dream.
We are left with fragments of everything—half a home, half a dream, sometimes even half a meal. Half a city—one that is already half in ruins. And even half an education.
I was a university student, two years into my studies, when the war stopped everything. Now, we try to study using phones we can barely charge twice a week. There is no electricity in our homes, no water, no internet. Everything is dark. If you’re a student, you must leave your home every day, pay money you don’t have, just to find a place with internet and power to take your exams.
Everywhere else in the world, people move forward, study, graduate, and chase their dreams. But here in Gaza, your life is put on hold whenever they decide it should be. Even the most basic human rights… have become dreams.
Having a stable home, living a normal life, having access to basic services—things others take for granted—have become unreachable luxuries for us. Even the simplest human needs are now shameful to ask for. Electricity in a socket is a dream. Sleeping without fear is a dream. Not worrying if tonight will be your last is a dream. And after 16 months of displacement in plastic tents, we have returned to partially destroyed homes, knowing we might have to flee again at any moment.
We live in a place that is no longer fit for human life. No electricity. No clean water. No infrastructure. No healthcare system. No proper waste management. No safety. Nothing that makes life livable. Just endless days of darkness, exhaustion, and fear of what comes next. Even the streets we used to walk through no longer exist. Nothing is as it was.
Why does a child sleep without their mother, and a mother without her child? Why has having a complete family become a dream? Why do we constantly live in fear, wondering what to take with us if we have to run again? Should we carry food? Clothes? The blankets we sleep on? How did we become trapped in this nightmare, and why are we forbidden from waking up?
All I wish for now is to return to a safe life, to a place where I do not have to fear tomorrow. We walk through this city with no direction, no normal streets, no happy faces, nothing that smiles back at us—not even the sky.
This is why you’ll find us applying for scholarships, searching for visas, looking for any door that leads to safety. We are not asking for much—just a normal life… a very ordinary one.
Who is responsible for this?
The only thing that keeps us going is the belief that this, too, shall pass. That justice will come. That one day, God will grant us something other than this pain.
If you wish to help my family escape this place that can no longer sustain human life, please donate—no matter how little. Your kindness might be the reason a small family wakes up from this nightmare.
We’ve been trying to adapt to extremely difficult conditions, but the water crisis has become our worst nightmare. Every day, we carry just enough water by hand for a single day's use, only to repeat the ordeal the next day. Sometimes, the water is contaminated, which led to a fungal infection for my little nephew, as you can see in the picture. Even getting bread requires a long journey to a nearby bakery, baking it, and returning to our tent, which is in a desert-like area, far from all necessities of life — no internet, no markets, nothing to make life easier.
After losing our primary source of income — a small online clothing store — and facing a desperate need for money after hitting rock bottom, we decided last July to start a business making traditional Palestinian sweets. We hoped it would help us during these harsh times and difficult circumstances. Unfortunately, we had to stop due to the skyrocketing prices of raw materials and the lack of support for our humble project.
My greatest sorrow, and what hurt me the most during this war, was losing my beautiful cat, Jabal. I can’t imagine that he’s no longer here, as he was the closest thing to my heart. Not a day goes by without me looking at his pictures and videos, watching him play.
What drives me to consider starting a fundraising campaign is watching the light in my mother’s eyes dim and her joy turn into exhaustion and deep sorrow. My mother suffers from diabetes and has a respiratory condition, and I truly wish for her to regain some hope and for us to move to a safer place, away from the devastation and the severe lack of essential supplies that she desperately needs. Despite her suffering and the harshness that has filled our days, she has always been the helping hand that supported me during my battle with hepatitis, a disease that made me experience every form of pain. I am deeply grateful to God that I have come through that time.
This is my younger sister, who was in the final years of middle school but was unable to continue her education due to recent events. What worries me most about her is the thought of her being left without an education, especially since she has started to forget most of what happened before the war.
In an attempt to escape the boredom and sadness during our days of displacement, I would gather my brother’s children and try to teach them a little, allowing them to express themselves through innocent drawings — far away from the news and images that could traumatize them if they saw them.
I am truly grateful that you’ve taken the time to read my story, and I hope you will consider donating, even just a little. It could make a difference and perhaps bring some happiness to my mother’s heart and my small family. Please, share or donate.
Thank you,
Khloud