In May, We travelled to Cairo with a heart full of prayers and three suitcase full of supplies. I went to visit Hanan and Mesk, two brave sisters who survived the war in Gaza, both living now as amputees. But what I experienced over those ten days went far beyond one visit – it left an imprint on my soul.
Thanks to the generosity of our supporters, we were able to deliver vital aid to 27 injured children and 11 Palestinian families who had been evacuated from Gaza and were receiving treatment across several hospitals in Cairo. These were children and caregivers who had endured the unimaginable – bombings, amputations, displacement – and yet still carried hope in their eyes.
We met Kazem, who couldn’t speak from the trauma but clung tightly to any new toy. Sami, who waved shyly when we brought in a new car and a soccer ball. Mohammad and Rizq, who grinned wide when we gave essential aid (food and clothes). And Maryam, a girl with the gentlest voice who told us she still wants to be a teacher someday.
Each child had a story. Each family had a wound. And every encounter reminded me why HopeNest exists.
One of the most confronting moments was visiting the solidarity housing for Palestinians displaced in Cairo. On our first visit, our car was surrounded by nearly 30 children, all knocking on the windows, smiling, and making heart shapes with their hands. We were overwhelmed – tears flowed freely. Their faces are etched into our memory. These children weren’t just displaced – they were clinging to every flicker of attention, of connection.
We returned four days later with bags of lollies. Two teenage boys caught our eye – one of them had lost a leg. They were trying to fix a motorbike. We approached them gently and asked for help giving the lollies to the kids in the buildings. Without hesitation, they agreed. We handed over the bags – each one filled with different types of sweets – and gave them some extra aid for themselves.
We stood quietly as we watched them zoom away, handing out the treats, their smiles wide and proud. That moment – two teenagers, one an amputee, giving joy to dozens of kids – will stay with us forever.
In the hospitals, the children we met were stuck but not defeated. Wounded but somehow still joyful. I remember one boy who showed me his drawing of a home by the sea. “It’s Gaza,” he said softly.
Saying goodbye to Hanan and Mesk and their cousins at New Capital Hospital was the hardest part. We chose not to say goodbye. We simply said, “We’ll be back.” Because there is still so much to do.
HopeNest is committed to standing with these children – not just once, but until real healing happens. But we can’t do it alone. Every donation helps us extend more treatment pathways, more food parcels, more moments of dignity.
Help us return. Help us keep our promise.
