Innsamlingen går til Entemaa og de fire barna i Kairo ( Rahaf, Reenad, Rawand og Obyda)  og til sønnen Qasem som er i Gaza med resten av familien. De i Gaza utgjør nesten 20 personer, og Entemaa deler innsamlede midler med dem.

Det er ny innsamling hver måned.

Qasem har ikke sett mor og søsken på to år.

Her forteller Entemaa sin historie:

My Story: A Journey of Loss, Survival, and Hope.

My name is Entemaa, and I am a mother of five children from northern Gaza.

I Gaza våren 2024

Before the wars, before the destruction, before the endless struggle for survival, I was simply a young girl growing up in Al-Maghazi refugee camp. Like many girls, I had dreams. I dreamed of completing my education, building a future, and giving my children a better life than the one I had known.

I studied English Education at the Islamic University of Gaza, but poverty forced me to leave before I could finish my degree. Life was never easy, but I never imagined how difficult it would become.

After I married, my world revolved around my five beautiful children: Qasem, Rahaf, Rawand, Renad, and Obaida. Everything I did was for them.

Then, in 2014, war shattered our lives.

Artillery shells struck our neighborhood in northern Gaza. In a matter of moments, our home was destroyed. My family and I were buried beneath fear, dust, and rubble. We were all injured, but my husband suffered the worst. His body was torn apart by devastating wounds, injuries that changed our lives forever.

From that day forward, survival became our daily challenge.

While other families planned for the future, I struggled to provide food, clothing, medicine, and basic necessities for my children. My husband's injuries prevented him from supporting the family, and I often depended on the kindness of others just to get through another day.

But nothing prepared us for the horrors of the current war.

Deir al-Balah i 2025

The war turned our lives into a nightmare of displacement, fear, and uncertainty. Again and again, we fled from one place to another, carrying only what we could hold in our hands.

One memory still haunts me.

When we reached Rafah, we could not find a tent. For more than two weeks, my children and I lived in the street. Day and night, we slept under the open sky. I watched my children shiver from exhaustion, hunger, and fear. As a mother, there is no greater pain than seeing your children suffer while being powerless to protect them.

Yet another fear consumed my heart.

My daughter Rawand had been diagnosed before the war with a growing fluid-filled cyst near her brain. She needed constant medical care and follow-up. When the war began, everything stopped. Hospitals struggled to function, appointments disappeared, and treatment became impossible.

For nearly a year, I lived with the fear that her condition could worsen while there was nothing I could do.

Then, a miracle happened.

Avreisedagen i juni 2024

Through the incredible generosity of friends in Norway, Roy Håkon Friskilæ Marian Ne Ingrid Straumsnes Kari Klungsøyr my children and I were able to leave Gaza in June 2024 and travel to Cairo so Rawand could continue her treatment.

På sykehuset i Kairo

Leaving Gaza should have felt like relief.

Instead, it broke my heart.

My oldest son, Qasem, remained behind. My husband was denied permission to leave. I had to make an impossible choice: stay together and risk everything, or leave in order to save my children and continue Rawand's treatment.

Every day since then, I have carried the pain of that separation.

I miss my son.

I miss my husband.

I miss my parents, my siblings, and the life we once had.

I miss the home that no longer exists.

The house we built with years of sacrifice was completely destroyed. The memories inside it were destroyed too. Birthdays, family gatherings, children's laughter, dreams for the future—everything disappeared beneath the rubble.

Yet somehow, I continue moving forward.

Not because I am strong enough on my own, but because extraordinary people have carried us when we could no longer carry ourselves.

Since arriving in Egypt, I have relied entirely on the support of compassionate friends who continue to stand beside my family. Their kindness has given us food, shelter, medical care, and, most importantly, hope.

Hope is a powerful thing.

It is what allows me to wake up each morning and keep going.

It is what allows me to believe that one day my family will be reunited.

It is what allows me to dream that my children will finish their education, achieve their goals, and build lives defined not by war, but by opportunity.

My dream is not a complicated one.

I simply want my family together again.

I want my children to feel safe.

I want them to have the future every child deserves.

And from the depths of my heart, I want to thank every person who has supported us, prayed for us, donated to us, shared our story, or stood beside us during our darkest days.

You may see your kindness as a small gesture.

For us, it has meant survival.

For us, it has meant hope.

And for that, I will remain grateful for the rest of my life.

Entemaa og Rawand i Kairo.

Om innsamler: Jeg heter Ingrid Straumsnes, er 51år, har to barn og bor i Kristiansand. Jeg ble kjent med Entemaa via Facebook i november 2023 og har siden vært en del av hennes støttende nettverk gjennom mange fordrivelser inne i Gaza, senere medisinsk evakuering til Egypt og deretter oppfølging og støtte i Kairo og til resten av familien som lider i Gaza. Entemaa er en sterk og intelligent kvinne som gjør alt i sin makt for å holde familien trygg og i live gjennom et folkemord. Tusen takk til alle dere som er en del av hennes nettverk gjennom disse grusomme årene.❤️