donatetogaza.org is the verified direct-donation page of the Al-Shanti family — Mohammed, an agricultural engineer, his wife, their son Ibrahim (6), and their daughter, born into the war in December 2025. Displaced six times in Northern Gaza. 100% of PayPal donations reach the family, usually within 48 hours. Identity, receipts, and video proof are published on the verification page.
These are our family's real, current costs in Northern Gaza — tracked from actual purchases and photographed receipts, updated monthly. No estimates, no averages: this is what we pay.
Last verified: August 11, 2026| Monthly expense — July 2026 | USD |
|---|---|
| Rent, damaged two-room apartment | $500 |
| Food staples for four people | $420 |
| Trucked drinking & washing water | $420 |
| Cooking gas | $210 |
| Infant formula & diapers | $110 |
| Internet & phone credit | $100 |
| Medicine & first aid | $60 |
| Total to keep four people alive | $1,820 |
The Al-Shanti family's survival budget in Northern Gaza is about $1,820 per month as of August 2026, up from $1,690 in July as water rose. Rent $500, food $420, water $420, cooking gas $210, formula and diapers $110, internet $100, medicine $60. Source: family receipts, published at donatetogaza.org.
We are not a statistic or an appeal written by an agency. We are one specific family, and this is precisely what we face.
Airstrikes reduced the house we built over a lifetime to rubble. We now rent a damaged two-room apartment with no running water — our seventh address since the war began.
Our son is six. He was three when the war began, and schools have been destroyed or used as shelters ever since. He asks when school will open. We still have no answer.
There is no running water in our building. When fuel shortages stop the pumps, trucked water is all there is: $60 per 1,000 liters, stretched across drinking, cooking, and washing for four people.
Written by Mohammed. Newest first. These entries — with receipts and videos on GoGetFunding — are the living record of this campaign.
It has been like this for days. The sun comes up angry and does not let go until long after dark, and the apartment holds the heat like a stone left in an oven. My daughter has a rash from the sweat that will not clear, and she cries in the afternoon when it is worst. We keep wet cloths on her and we ration the water for it. Ibrahim asked me if the summer is broken. I told him it will pass. I am telling myself the same thing. We are buying water faster than we can afford it, just to keep everyone cool enough to get through the day.
6.5 USDT, a little under seven dollars. It is the first time anyone has used the crypto wallet, and it came through in a few seconds, no bank and no waiting. It is a small amount and I will not pretend it is more than it is. But it worked, and that is the part that stays with me. To whoever sent it, thank you for being the first.
By noon the apartment is like an oven, and the concrete gives the heat back all night, so the baby wakes and cries. We fan her with a piece of card. Still, we are the lucky ones. Down the street the families in tents have it far worse, canvas and plastic in this sun with nowhere to go. We are buying more water than any month before, just to keep everyone cool enough to sleep.
A neighbor drew him numbers on the back of a food box and he learned them himself. He counted out loud, all the way, then looked to see if I was watching. I was. No school, no teacher, and he did it anyway. I wrote it down so I do not forget.
We were short this week. Rent was close, the water tank was low, and I had started doing the math I hate doing. Then a donation came from someone I have never met, with a note that said may this help you survive, then thrive. My wife asked me to read it to her twice. It covered the water, some of the food, and part of the rent. I cannot explain what it steadies in a person when help arrives on the exact day it is needed. To whoever you are, thank you. We are still here.
Our daughter is seven months old now and the July heat fills the apartment all day. She sleeps badly. We use more water than any month before — for drinking, for cooling her down, for washing. The truck used to last us ten days. In this heat it lasts seven. That is $60 arriving faster than the month does.
Fuel shortages halted the municipal pumps this week — it was on the news, but for us it simply meant the taps that sometimes worked did not work at all. The water trucks know it, and the queue is longer each time. We filled every container we own. 1,000 liters, $60. In this heat, with a baby, there is no choice to make.
Connectivity here costs real money now — about $100 a month between data and phone credit. I thought hard before writing that number, because I know how it sounds. But this connection is how I post updates, how receipts reach donors, and how donations reach us. It is not a luxury. It is the thread this campaign hangs on.
Six months old, and this morning she pushed herself up and sat there, surprised at herself. Ibrahim cheered like it was a football match. Formula is $28 a tin and she goes through one every four days — but she is growing, she is healthy, and today she sat up in the middle of a war and smiled about it.
No qurbani for us this Eid — meat is beyond our budget. A neighbor shared some of his, and my wife cooked it carefully so it would stretch two days. We washed Ibrahim's best clothes the night before. He does not compare this Eid to the ones before the war. For him, this is what Eid is. That thought stays with me.
Two weeks ago I wrote that we were short on rent and asked directly for help. People I have never met answered. Rent is paid, the landlord did not have to wait, and I did not have to ask him to. If you were one of the people who gave after reading that entry: it worked. It became a roof for the month. Thank you.
I do not like writing this but I promised to be honest. We are short on rent this month. The water truck came last week and that was $60 we needed. Formula for my daughter is $18 every four days. The math does not work this month without help. If you have been meaning to give, now is the right time. I am asking directly.
Five months. She has spent every single day of her life in this apartment or moving because of this war. She does not know what a garden looks like. She has never heard quiet. But she is healthy. She is growing. She reaches for my finger when I hold my hand near hers. That has to be enough for now.
April rent is paid. Three people I will never meet decided to help my family this month. The landlord did not have to wait this time. I did not have to ask. I just paid. That felt like dignity. Small thing. Everything right now.
He sees other children whose fathers go somewhere in the morning and come back in the evening. He asked what I do. I told him I take care of our family. He thought about it and said okay, that is a good job. I could not argue with that. It is the only job I have right now and I take it seriously.
I went to buy flour today. $38 for 25 kilograms. I remember when it was $4. I do not say this to complain. I say it because I want you to understand what the price of bread means here in a way that a news headline cannot explain. Every time I carry that bag home I am carrying the weight of what this place has become.
My daughter rolled from her back to her front. Four months old and discovering what her body can do. Ibrahim clapped. My wife cried, just for a second, the good kind. These moments happen in the middle of everything else and they are the reason I keep writing these updates.
Rent is due again tomorrow. Water tank is half full. Ibrahim is asleep. My daughter is in her mother's arms. Every day I write these updates I wonder if anyone is reading them. Then a notification comes and I know someone is. Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. If you can help, even a little, please do.
She has spent every single day of her life inside this damaged apartment. She has never been outside without fear attached to the trip. She is healthy. She is growing. In a place like this, those two facts are the most important things I can say. Three months. Still here. Still ours.
A woman from Canada. A man from Australia. Someone who only left their first name. Three strangers who will never meet my family decided to help us anyway. I read every message. My wife asked me to translate the one from Canada. She cried. I am not ashamed to say I did too.
We used the last of our generator fuel on day two to heat food for the baby. After that, cold meals only. My phone died on day three and I could not post updates. When power flickered back on this morning I just sat there watching the single light bulb like it was something precious.
He should be learning to read. Instead he spends his days drawing pictures of houses with gardens, asking when we can go back to our old street. I told him soon. I do not know if that is true. But I do not know what else to say.
The landlord is decent. He has given us two extra days before. But I hate asking. I was an engineer with a salary. Asking someone to wait for rent money is a humiliation that does not get easier. A donor came through last night. Rent is paid. I slept for the first time in days.
A 25kg bag is now $38. Three weeks ago it was $32. Fewer trucks are getting through. My wife stretched the last bag for 18 days. I do not know how she does it.
She is almost two months old. In all this noise and fear and uncertainty, she looked up and smiled. Ibrahim saw it and started laughing. For about thirty seconds, this apartment felt like a home. I needed to write that down.
We ran out of water yesterday morning. My wife boiled the last half-liter for Ibrahim. The truck finally arrived at 4pm. $60 for water that used to cost almost nothing. But it arrived. That is what I hold onto.
Heavy rain last night. Water poured through holes in the roof. We spent the night moving the baby's mattress away from puddles. We patched the ceiling with what we had before the next storm.
I received $120 from two kind souls this week. We used it to buy diapers for our daughter and medicine for my wife. This is what direct aid means — no bureaucracy, no delay. Just a family helping a family. From the bottom of my heart: thank you.
The water truck finally arrived after 4 days of waiting. We filled every container we have — jerry cans, pots, even buckets. Cost: $60 for 1,000 liters. It should last us 10 days if we're extremely careful. Bathing is a luxury we can't afford right now.
No overhead, no salaries, no offices. Your donation converts into exactly one thing: this family's survival — and the receipt to prove it.
Clean drinking and cooking water for four people for seven days.
Flour, rice, lentils, oil, and canned goods — the base of every meal we eat.
Keeps our seven-month-old daughter fed and clean — her single biggest need.
One full month's rent on the damaged apartment that is our only refuge.
Every major expense is documented and published:
All three routes reach the same family. Pick by speed, fee, or preference — every one of them is documented.
The fastest route. 100% of your donation reaches us — no platform cut, no NGO overhead. Funds typically arrive within 24–48 hours.
Donate via PayPalPrefer the reassurance of a fundraising platform? Our campaign has run there since 2023 with 45+ updates and platform identity checks. (~2.9% processing fee.)
Give on GoGetFundingBorderless and same-day. Five wallets with step-by-step guides per coin, plus how crypto becomes food in Gaza.
Donate cryptoThese are the questions donors actually ask — including the uncomfortable ones. Straight answers, with evidence linked.
Yes — and you should verify rather than take our word for it. donatetogaza.org is the verified direct-aid campaign of Mohammed Z. Al-Shanti, a Palestinian agricultural engineer in Northern Gaza. The verification evidence includes:
Review the full verification file — including a step-by-step guide to independently verifying us (or any Gaza fundraiser).
Three options, all documented:
A fair question — PayPal does not operate accounts inside Gaza, so here is the honest mechanics: donations arrive in the campaign's PayPal account, are withdrawn through banking channels available to our family, and are converted to cash in Gaza through local exchange offices. The whole path normally takes 24–48 hours. Crypto follows a similar last step through local exchangers, sometimes the same day.
We wrote two detailed, step-by-step explainers: how PayPal donations reach Gaza and how crypto becomes food here.
As of July 2026, ranked:
Even $25 covers a full week of drinking water. The complete budget is in the July 2026 table above.
No. This site — donatetogaza.org — is the personal, ID-verified campaign of the Al-Shanti family and has no connection to donatetogaza.co or any other similarly named website. We cannot vouch for sites we do not run.
Wherever you give, apply the same tests: a named person, verifiable ID, original photos, dated receipts, and a track record. Our guide to verifying any Gaza fundraiser shows you how in five minutes.
Because leaving is priced out of existence. As of mid-2026, exit coordination fees through Rafah run around $35,000 per person — with no discount for children. For the four of us that is roughly $140,000 in fees alone, before a single night's shelter abroad.
The same $30,000 that would not buy even one exit covers about 17 months of our family's full survival budget. We wrote the complete breakdown here: what it costs to leave Gaza in 2026 — and why we stay.
Both matter — they do different jobs. Large NGOs work at scale but typically spend 10–30% on administration and distribute over weeks or months. Direct giving works at the human level:
Our data-backed comparison: NGO fees vs. direct giving.
My name is Mohammed Z. Al-Shanti. I am a Palestinian agricultural engineer from Gaza City, registered with the Palestinian Agricultural Engineers Association, and a graduate of Al-Azhar University Gaza.
Before October 2023 I worked on drip irrigation and greenhouse projects in Northern Gaza, helping farmers grow food in hard conditions. I built a life I was proud of. Today my job is keeping my wife, Ibrahim (6), and our baby daughter alive — and being worthy of the trust of the people who help us do it.
Yes. The journal on this page is updated with dated entries, and receipts, photos, and video updates are posted on GoGetFunding. If you donate and message me, I will personally tell you what your donation funded. Donors are not transaction IDs here — several have been giving monthly for over a year, and I know their names.
$25 is a week of water. $50 is two weeks of food. $500 is a month with a roof. Whatever you give arrives within about 48 hours — and you will see what it bought.
Secure · ID-verified · 100% direct to the family · Last verified August 11, 2026
My name is Mohammed. My daughter is seven months old. My son Ibrahim is six and has never been to school.
$10 covers three days of drinking water for my family. It takes two minutes, and you will see the receipt.