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Samer Qarman 🇵🇸

@SQarman32315 • 4,348 subscribers

From Gaza, A Father, a Civil Engineer and an Expert Graphic & Motion. I am Fighting For My Family!

Shorts

🚨🚨 Read this if you care about Gaza and haven’t forgotten it—and for anyone who wants to understand the true value of a “human life” in Gaza! First of all, hello to everyone after more than 5 days of internet blackout! Secondly, during these days, I gathered my courage and went to wait for aid. With the internet down, I couldn’t withdraw any money to buy even a single kilo of flour. I was forced to risk my life in hopes of getting a bag of flour to feed my children. But I returned home injured , without I can get a bag of flour. Five days of sleeping on the ground among tens of thousands of other civilians who, like me, were also waiting for that one bag. Five days sleeping without a blanket—just the sky above us. No mattress—the ground was our bed. No lullabies to soothe us to sleep—the sound of shells and gunfire above our heads was enough to commit dozens of massacres at once, in one place. Let me tell you something: they treat us like animals. They allow in a bit of food and flour, and then make people fight each other over it. Imagine throwing food to chickens—how they would pounce on it. That’s exactly how we were. I saw things I’ve never seen before. I saw a father crying because a thief took the food meant for his children. I saw a pregnant woman pushing through the crowd of men to get food for her kids who had lost their father. I saw an elderly man pushed from behind by younger men, knocked to the ground and run over by the truck’s wheels. Conflicting emotions overwhelmed me: confusion, fear, helplessness, and betrayal. How can the world not see what’s happening? How can it not see us at all? For the first time, I felt like my life meant nothing. How could I be worth less than a bag of flour? Even now, every time I close my eyes, I see crowds of people swarming the flour trucks like beasts. Every time I sleep, I have nightmares about chasing that bag—and I wake up terrified. I won’t go back to that trap again. I don’t want to leave my family alone, at night, in a tent, unprotected, unsafe—just to chase after a bag of flour that might cost me my life. Nothing is more precious than life and family. Yesterday, I might not have returned to them. My wife and children didn’t sleep after hearing about the horrific massacre at the location I had been in. They heard I had run toward the trucks, right into the evacuation zones and areas of fighting. This madness must stop. I will try to buy the flour—it’s not worth more than me. Please, don’t stop supporting us!

Sensitive content

🚨🚨 Read this if you care about Gaza and haven’t forgotten it—and for anyone who wants to understand the true value of a “human life” in Gaza! First of all, hello to everyone after more than 5 days of internet blackout! Secondly, during these days, I gathered my courage and went to wait for aid. With the internet down, I couldn’t withdraw any money to buy even a single kilo of flour. I was forced to risk my life in hopes of getting a bag of flour to feed my children. But I returned home injured , without I can get a bag of flour. Five days of sleeping on the ground among tens of thousands of other civilians who, like me, were also waiting for that one bag. Five days sleeping without a blanket—just the sky above us. No mattress—the ground was our bed. No lullabies to soothe us to sleep—the sound of shells and gunfire above our heads was enough to commit dozens of massacres at once, in one place. Let me tell you something: they treat us like animals. They allow in a bit of food and flour, and then make people fight each other over it. Imagine throwing food to chickens—how they would pounce on it. That’s exactly how we were. I saw things I’ve never seen before. I saw a father crying because a thief took the food meant for his children. I saw a pregnant woman pushing through the crowd of men to get food for her kids who had lost their father. I saw an elderly man pushed from behind by younger men, knocked to the ground and run over by the truck’s wheels. Conflicting emotions overwhelmed me: confusion, fear, helplessness, and betrayal. How can the world not see what’s happening? How can it not see us at all? For the first time, I felt like my life meant nothing. How could I be worth less than a bag of flour? Even now, every time I close my eyes, I see crowds of people swarming the flour trucks like beasts. Every time I sleep, I have nightmares about chasing that bag—and I wake up terrified. I won’t go back to that trap again. I don’t want to leave my family alone, at night, in a tent, unprotected, unsafe—just to chase after a bag of flour that might cost me my life. Nothing is more precious than life and family. Yesterday, I might not have returned to them. My wife and children didn’t sleep after hearing about the horrific massacre at the location I had been in. They heard I had run toward the trucks, right into the evacuation zones and areas of fighting. This madness must stop. I will try to buy the flour—it’s not worth more than me. Please, don’t stop supporting us!

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