I would like to tell and show you a little about why I’ve adopted Rewaa as my own. Yes, she is younger than my son, so I feel like a mom to her. I feel that my daughter and grandkids are in the middle of this brutal war. She is very, very shy. But since the beginning it seemed that she also adopted me back and even though she has 3 small kids, she says good night to me, every evening 🥰 (except when they have no Internet or electricity to charge her phone), differently from my son, that has internet and electricity all the time and rarely calls 😅 . Their culture is so far from my own, and yet, it is so beautiful to meet her in our humanity, and see that even culture, religion, a world apart can be merely a detail when kindred souls meet. Trying to learn and to know them better, I asked her where she met Mohammed. She answered: Oh no, this is something our parents prepare for us. I was shocked. (In this century?) And then I understood why she treats me with so much kindness and respect. She is a good engineer like her dad, and an amazing, loving mom like her own. Even though I had already talked with them a few times on cam, my suspicious western self, afraid of Internet scammers and wrong doers, went sneaking around on social media trying to find whatever I could on that couple that seemed a little bit too sweet and good to be true. I explain: they asked for help, but they never imposed it. They kindly asked for help and every time I shared their story or gave them Instagram advice (as if I could!) they would show immense gratitude. After a few times, she started wishing me a good night every night, even when I didn’t do anything for them. She would also ask how I was feeling and telling me little things about their difficult daily routine. But it was not only sadness. She told me stories like how happy she was working both on the bee keeping project with other engineers (very proud to sell pure Palestinian honey) and also the job in the dairy factory, where they produced yogurt out of dehydrated milk from Denmark, because Palestine doesn’t have enough cows for their own production of milk. She also told me that they never travelled, because they have been besieged for most of their lives and that was a dream that they could not yet make come true. We played about the day the war would end and how we could finally meet and laugh and hug and talk and cry together about these very dark, painful times. And then she also shared fotos from her kids (pretending I was her mom, I supposed I also felt very proud of my pretend grandkids). Maria was no more than 4 months when we started talking and now my cute chubby cheeks girl is sitting and almost standing up. I saw Rewaa a few times on cam, but she would never send photos of herself. That was annoying me a little because I said to her that it is much more difficult to get people to engage with her story and donate if they don’t see the face of their campaign. She would shower me with photos of her kids, but never photos of her own. One day I gave her an ultimatum: Rewaa, without your face no one will donate! She said she was very uncomfortable about showing herself. I flipped: Rewaa you are a gorgeous girl, we could sell your story much easier with your face on this campaign! I froze a little. Yes, I had heard myself. I not only didn’t know her culture, as I completely ignored it, butchered it and submitted it into our western standards where everyone has a price, everyone is a product and even the better if it is all shaped and marketed for mass consumption. I felt so disrespectful with a girl that had showed nothing else but love and respect for me and all the dum things I could say. I understand that our idea of oppression may be the obligation of wearing a head scarf, but we see no damage on being ourselves a product of consumerism or even tattooing slogans or brand logos on our own skin. I was oppressing her. I was demanding her to show her face and according to her culture, religion and her own choices, it was the same as asking her to stand naked on a public square. How arrogant. Evil. How small of me. She never said no, but she also never sent the picture. And slowly we both accepted that. At some point we just started understanding each other’s ways, concessions, limits, beliefs, choices.

I am an atheist. I am also very spiritual because I believe in physics and for me energy is the answer and mystery of science, as much as God is the answer and mystery of everything for those that believe in It. Because of my lack of god it is easier for me to cope with my mortality and try to be good just because life is way too short to accumulate bad energy. In the other hand, Palestinians are extremely religious and with all the ordeals this people have been enduring for at least 76 years, I think I too would have needed to believe in a mighty being that could save me from so much evil, dirty politics, aggressions, thefts, oppression and Nakbas. Palestinians are incredibly kind because they know it all shall pass and in the end they will be granted the things they love so much in their own land and they are more and more deprived from. We all believe in whatever gives us the most positive outlook out of our miserable human lives. I never told Rewaa I was an atheist. I suppose they believe I am Christian. She never once tried to indoctrinate me. Not once. ”Whatever your beliefs are, we love you and we pray for you”, they said. I never answered. I just accepted their kindness, knowing that they where giving me much more than I could ever give them. No western religious person would let go so easy on such an unprofitable trade. Have you ever met any fundamentalist Christian? Well, we’ve heard, through our whole lives (or perhaps more vehemently since September 11th or October 7th) how dangerous fundamentalist Muslims were. Well, I still believe that any fundamentalism is core stupidity, but have you lately met any fundamentalist evangelical zionist? Well, nothing is more dangerous than those… well, perhaps only Israeli zionists.

Anyhow, going back to my western suspiciousnesses; young Rewaa and Mohammed had ancient Facebook profiles. From those ancient times, when they were almost teenagers, just around before they met. A handsome, humble, yet hardworking and ambitious boy that was going to medical school. A young student with a little bit of an edgy gothic fashion taste. They didn’t post much through the years but slowly you could see their transition into the whole people they are today (We all had our embarrassing teenage years, right?). On their earlier photos I found young Rewaa and her beautiful luscious dark hair, her perfect face and the kindest blue eyes. Then came some wedding pictures. Fairy-tale like, to make any western capitalist princess legitimately insulted jealous. The bride shows her hair, apparent shoulder in a beautiful dress, the veil, the silhouette of her face, but no longer shows the face. And she seems immersed in bliss. Not one speck of regret nor oppression. Acceptance, hope, love, pride of her culture, approval of their parents choice as if she couldn’t have done better herself. Then a bit later the first baby belly. Then a cute baby and a proud dad, then family gatherings and celebrations, birthday greetings, kids videos running on their yards, friendly and loving comments from university, work colleagues, relatives… then war. Destruction of their homes, a plastic tent built on deserted sands. Now my girl is trapped with her family in a war zone.

They have been displaced 16 times.

They don’t have clean water, almost no food, drones buzzing day and night, bombs falling all around them 24/7, for the past 8 moths… as long time time as Maria’s whole life. Ali and Tia are 5 and 4. They look tired and afraid, they miss kindergarten and their toys. Mohammed still tries to work in what is left of a local hospital, he has no salary. He works because he must to help his people. I know no western doctor that would risk his life for that reason. 

Rewaa messages me good night, almost every night. 

They fled Rafah just before it was brutally invaded and tents were bombed. I guess Allah is also trying his best to save whoever he can from all the collateral damage the empire is causing. Perhaps He is what has been keeping Rewaa and Mohammed, Ali, Tia and Maria alive in such desperate, dire times.

Also their go fund me campaign. That gives them hope and chance of survival.

They want desperately to cross the border to Egypt (their first real trip abroad) and live.

They want to see their children grow, study, play, eat healthy food and drink clean water.

That should not be so much to ask for.

But they don’t always have internet.

So I must ask on their behalf: Please, help my friends.

Help them as we all should have done during the Holocaust in WWII, the genocide in Rwanda or the Nakba in 1948.

We cannot change history, they say, but we definitely should try a different end. This is our opportunity.

Please, let’s save Rewaa.

Tap on the link to access Rewaa’s fundraising campaign: https://gofund.me/9ecf3c85

LATEST UPDATE: 2 RAFFLES

Rewaa´s campaign is still far from reaching their goal so I decided to do two extra actions to help them. It´s two different raffles and they both follow the same rules and conditions, it costs 10€ each to participate and can be done through donations straight into their fundraising on this link or via MobilePay to my phone (+358413690466). Remember to send me the print of your donation so I can put you in the raffles lists, mentioning which raffle you are signing on to. The first one is called “Bird of Freedom” and if you win it you will get this painting here sent to your home. The second raffle is called “My own painting” and the winner will get me to paint a commissioned word (20×30) of your own wish. Both raffles will be donated 100% to this family, helping them to escape death and starvation.

Send me a message if you need to know more! 🥰❤️