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In the heart of Gaza’s chaos, 65-year-old Fakhr Taj Shair clutches her parrots and turtle close—her unlikely companions in a makeshift shelter at Nasser Hospital. As bombs echo nearby, she ventures out daily to scavenge food not just for herself, but for her feathered and shelled friends.
‘I wasn’t scared when they bombed,’ Fakhr told local reporters, her voice steady. ‘All I could think about was these creatures. They’re alive, like me.’ Her story unfolds amid staggering numbers: over 10,000 lives lost since October 7, per Gaza health officials, with tens of thousands displaced.
Why it matters: Fakhr’s tale cuts through the stats—a raw reminder that war impacts all lives, human and animal alike. While global leaders debate ceasefires, ordinary Gazans like her are rewriting survival playbooks one day at a time.
Takeaway: Even in darkness, compassion persists. ‘We share the same sky,’ Fakhr says, feeding her parrot a scrap of bread. ‘That makes us family.’
Why it matters: Fakhr’s tale cuts through the stats—a raw reminder that war impacts all lives, human and animal alike. While global leaders debate ceasefires, ordinary Gazans like her are rewriting survival playbooks one day at a time.
Takeaway: Even in darkness, compassion persists. ‘We share the same sky,’ Fakhr says, feeding her parrot a scrap of bread. ‘That makes us family.’ 
