Musallam Maher Abumettleq

I come from Gaza, a place where the sky is often louder than our voices, and dreams fight every day to survive. But despite the bombs, the blackouts, and the heartbreak, I chose to become a software engineer. Not because it was easy, but because it gave me a sense of control in a world that often feels like it has none.

I’ve always been fascinated by logic and problem-solving. Code is like a second language to me, a language where things make sense, where effort has results, where you can build something out of nothing. In Gaza, where destruction is common, the ability to build something, anything, is powerful.

Studying wasn’t just about chasing a degree; it was a form of resistance. I taught myself how to code during days when we had no electricity, writing lines of Python by hand until the power came back on. I followed online courses late into the night when internet access returned for a few hours. I borrowed laptops. I worked from phone hotspots. I never stopped, because every line of code was a promise to myself that my future would be different.

But passion doesn’t pay tuition. And in Gaza, finding stable income is a luxury. After my mother passed away during the war, I became the backbone of my family. I balance work, caregiving, and education, often pushing my own needs aside. There are days when I skip meals to save money or go without sleep to meet both deadlines and family responsibilities. It’s not just hard, it’s exhausting.

This is why donor support would mean the world to me. It’s not just financial relief, it’s breathing room. It's more time to study, better access to resources, and a chance to focus on what I love. It’s the difference between burning out and breaking through.

What keeps me going is knowing what this knowledge can do. I dream of building tools that help aid organizations coordinate faster during crises. Apps that help displaced families locate services. Systems that protect data in warzones. I want to be part of the digital resistance, creating tech that serves humanity, especially in places like mine.

One day, I hope to teach girls in Gaza how to code. I want them to know that intelligence has no border, and that even in rubble, brilliance can grow.

Your support wouldn’t just help a student; it would help a young Gazan engineer carry her people’s resilience into a digital future. And maybe one day, I’ll be the one funding someone else's dream, passing the torch forward, with pride.