“I first came to Taabu for my children.”

My three children were spending most of their time at home. Their father is still in Gaza, and being away from him has been especially difficult for them. I wanted to find a place where they could enjoy themselves but also be surrounded by a Palestinian community that felt familiar to us.

I came for them, but little by little, I found something for myself too.

After everything we had been through, I closed myself off. Being away from home made it even harder for me to meet new people or build new relationships. At Taabu, I began learning Palestinian embroidery and beadwork, and gradually, I started creating again.

Today, I made embroidered and beaded pieces, including special bags for my daughters. I also sell some of what I make, creating an additional source of income to help me provide for my three children.

What began as a place I found for my children became a place where I found a new skill, new connections, and an opportunity to build something of my own.

“With every piece I make, I feel like a part of me is traveling with it.”

I’m Heba Al-Eshi, a 35-year-old Palestinian visual artist and interior designer, and a mother of two. Creativity has always been part of who I am, from my paintings to my design work.

One year ago, I was introduced to Taabu, where I joined a beadwork workshop. Even though beadwork was new to me, I quickly found myself in it. The colors, patterns, and details felt close to the artist in me, and through this new craft, I began rediscovering myself in a different way.

My husband is currently in the United States, while my children and I remain in Egypt. Knowing that some of the pieces we create may travel to the U.S. gives my work an even deeper meaning.

I imagine every piece making part of the journey I haven’t been able to make yet, carrying a little piece of my spirit with it, and somehow bringing me closer to my husband despite the distance.

Beadwork has also become the one time that truly feels like mine. When I sit down to create, I disconnect from everything else. It is my space to focus, create, and simply be myself.

In every piece, I find a little of myself  and send a little of myself into the world.

“What started as a financial need became something I wanted to grow.”

I’m Safaa Qudih, 38, a Palestinian mother of five and the primary provider for my children. With their father currently in Europe, finding a way to generate income became especially important for me.

At Taabu, I learned to make handmade bags, wallets, and keychains. But I didn’t want to stop at what I learned during the workshops. At home, I continued practicing, learning through YouTube, trying new techniques, and working to improve my craft.

Little by little, that skill began turning into a small business of my own. Today, people I know buy the pieces I make, giving me a way to earn income while continuing to develop my work.

But another part of this craft means just as much to me. Through my products, I can keep Palestinian heritage and identity present. I see how much these pieces resonate with Palestinians, especially those living far from home, and that makes every piece I create more meaningful.

Taabu also gave me something I was missing: a community. I met new people who became like family  women who share a similar background, understand what we have been through, and make the space feel familiar.

Today, I’m not only learning a craft. I’m building something of my own  something that supports my children while carrying our Palestinian identity forward.

“I came to Taabu looking for a way to cope. I found support, a new skill, and the beginning of a new opportunity.”

I’m Manal Al-Shaer, 33, a Palestinian mother of four with a background in science education.

My husband and I were building a new life for our family in Egypt. We had prepared a new home and were supposed to move in the next day. Then, without warning, my husband passed away from a heart attack at just 38 years old.

He had been the primary provider for our family, and suddenly, alongside the grief of losing him, I found myself facing the responsibility of supporting our four children and managing expenses on my own.

For a while, I stayed home and struggled deeply with the loss. My children were already attending activities at Taabu, and one day, I decided to join them.

There, I met other Palestinian women and slowly began to talk, share what I was carrying, and find an emotional outlet. Taabu became a space where I could connect with others instead of facing everything alone.

I also learned a new craft  one that I hope can become a source of income for my family. Today, I am already taking the first steps, sending some of the products I make with my brother to Hungary to be sold.

I came at one of the hardest moments of my life. Today, I’m learning how to turn a new skill into a way forward for myself and my children.

“I came looking for a place to breathe, and found a community and a new skill.”

I’m Israa Qishta, 29, a Palestinian mother of two.

My children came after a long wait, so when the war in Gaza made everything uncertain, my husband was deeply worried about their safety. He encouraged me to leave with them for Egypt, while he remained behind.

Suddenly, I found myself in a new country, alone with my two children and trying to adjust to an unfamiliar environment. I was afraid, overwhelmed, and simply needed a place where I could get out of the house and release some of what I was carrying.

That is how I found Taabu.

Here, I met other Palestinian women, built new friendships, and found a community that made the unfamiliar feel a little more familiar.

I also discovered beadwork. I started completely from scratch, learning each step and gradually finding joy in creating something with my own hands. Working with beads became a way for me to focus, release my energy, and have something to look forward to.

I arrived searching for an outlet. I found connection, creativity, and a skill I can continue building for the future.

“Taabu gave me a little of the sense of belonging and familiarity I used to have back home in Gaza.”

I’m Suhair Antar, 38, a Palestinian mother of three. My husband and children are here with me in Egypt, but displacement changed much of the life we once knew.

I first came to Taabu because my children needed activities, and I needed something too a place to spend time, connect with others, and find an emotional outlet.

In Gaza, we were used to having family and relatives around us. Here, without that extended family and familiar community, I felt something important was missing. At Taabu, I found women who share a similar background and experiences, and a space where I could feel comfortable and connected again.

I also learned beadwork here completely from scratch. What began as a way to fill my time and express myself has now become a skill I hope to turn into an opportunity.

My husband, who had been our family’s primary provider, was injured in Gaza, and today we no longer have a stable source of income. My goal is to continue developing my work and eventually sell my handmade pieces in Europe and other international markets, so this skill can become a source of income for our family.

For me, Taabu has become both a place of belonging and a place where I can begin building toward something of my own.

“I came to Taabu to learn something new, release some of the sadness I was carrying, and find a place where I could feel comfortable again.”

I’m Manal Abu Al-Kas, 52, a Palestinian mother of five. I am currently in Egypt, while some of my sons remained in Gaza. Being away from them meant living through some of the hardest moments of my life from afar.

On March 23, 2024, while I was in Egypt, one of my sons was injured in Gaza. With no stable income or financial support, I tried to support myself and started a small home business making pastries and pizza.

Then, while I was still in Egypt, I received the devastating news that one of my sons had been martyred in Gaza. Later, I received the news that a second son had also been martyred there. I was in Egypt while they were in Gaza, receiving news that changed my life from a distance. After losing my second son, I stopped the small business I had started.

I came to Taabu carrying a great deal of grief. I wanted to get out of the house, learn something useful and new, and find a way to release some of the difficult emotions I was carrying.

At Taabu, I found a Palestinian community that felt familiar. I met women who shared a similar background and understood much of what I had been through. It became a place where I could spend time, connect with others, and focus on learning a new craft.

Today, creating gives me something meaningful to focus on and a skill I can keep developing as I think about rebuilding a source of income for myself.

I carry the memory of my sons with me. And despite everything I have lost, I am still learning, creating, and trying to build a way forward.

“I’ve always loved learning and achieving something. I’m not someone who likes to sit still.”

I’m Faten Al-Habil, 44. Before coming to Egypt, I worked at the Ministry of Health as a medical secretary. Learning has always been an important part of my life. I studied history education and medical secretarial studies, and earned a bachelor’s degree in health administration.

I came to Egypt under difficult circumstances. My sister was receiving treatment for cancer, and I accompanied her with her two young sons, who were five and six years old. I also came on a medical referral for my own treatment.

Since then, I have lost my sister, and today I am in Egypt with my mother and my sister’s two boys. Far from the life and community I knew, I found myself with a lot of empty time and very few people around me.

But I have never liked sitting idle. I started teaching myself crochet through YouTube, practicing until I became confident in what I could create. Later, I came to Taabu, where I found a community, met new people, and continued developing my skills.

Listening to other women and hearing their stories also changed something for me. Sharing a space with women carrying their own experiences helped me see my own journey differently. I also began attending psychosocial support sessions, while my sister’s children found activities where they could play, connect, and release some of the energy that had built up from spending so much time at home.

Now, I want to take my crochet beyond creating. I came to Taabu to learn how I can market my products and turn this skill into a source of income. Supporting my family is especially important to me, as my mother requires regular blood transfusions every 20 days, which come with significant expenses.

I started crocheting to fill my time. Today, I want to turn what I learned into something that can help me provide, create, and keep moving forward.

“I came to Taabu for one clear reason: I wanted to learn Palestinian embroidery.”

I’m Reda Al-Shaer, 55. After everything we experienced through war and displacement, life became much more confined. We stopped going out as much, and being away from home made it harder to maintain the kind of social life we once had.

I came to Taabu specifically to learn Palestinian embroidery. But as I learned a new craft, I began meeting new people, building friendships, and finding a social space outside the home.

My 15-year-old daughter comes with me, too, where she is learning crochet. Having a place where we can both learn and spend time with others has become something we enjoy together.

At home, I also practice crochet, but for me, crafting isn’t about creating a source of income. I make things for myself because I genuinely enjoy the process. Crochet has become part of my daily routine. I sometimes wake up early just to sit down and work on a piece.

It keeps my hands and mind engaged and gives me a reason to step away from my phone, the internet, and the constant stream of difficult news.

At Taabu, I’m learning Palestinian embroidery and building new connections. At home, crochet gives me something creative and meaningful to fill my days.

“After years of working, suddenly having nowhere to go and no role to fulfill felt like losing a part of who I was.”

I’m Suzan Muhanna, 50. For 20 years, work was a major part of my life. I worked in management across institutions and NGOs, and after coming to Egypt, I continued working for another year.

Then, suddenly, that chapter ended. For someone who had always been deeply connected to her work, losing my position and daily responsibilities felt like losing part of my identity. My days became filled with routine and inactivity, at a time when I was already carrying many other losses.

My husband, mother, and one of my sons remain in Gaza, while I am in Egypt with another son who is receiving medical treatment. I was also grieving the loss of my daughter and struggling with loneliness, isolation, and memories of the people and life I had left behind.

Some friends encouraged me to come to Taabu. They told me to try something different, change my routine, and give myself a new experience. So I did.

At Taabu, I found exactly that: a reason to get out, engage my mind, meet people, and break the routine that had taken over my days. I also began attending psychosocial support sessions, giving me a space to process some of the grief and emotions I had been carrying.

Along the way, I learned a new craft and developed a skill that I hope can eventually become a source of income. But I see this course as only a starting point. I want to keep learning, developing, and finding new ways to use what I have gained here.

After 20 years of building my life around work, starting again looks different than I imagined. For me, this is a new beginning  a chance to create, reconnect, and rediscover a sense of purpose.

“I thought we would return to Gaza after one month. Three years later, I still carry the key to my home.”

I’m Kholoud Al-Shaer, 42. I came to Egypt with my family after my daughter received a medical referral for treatment. At the time, I thought our stay would be temporary  just one month for her treatment, and then we would return home to Gaza.

That month turned into three years. Through it all, I have kept the key to my home with me.

Living away from home brought deep uncertainty and a loss of the security I once knew. I found myself constantly thinking about Gaza, our home, our neighbors, and the everyday moments and atmosphere that once surrounded us.

I turned to Palestinian embroidery as a hobby, but it gradually became more than that. It gave me a way to occupy my mind, release some of what I was carrying, and step away, even for a while, from the worries and thoughts that followed me throughout the day.

With every needle and thread, I feel like I’m letting out something from my heart  memories of my home, my neighbors, and the life we once lived.

Today, embroidery is both a personal outlet and a skill I hope can become a source of income. It allows me to create something meaningful while carrying a part of home with me wherever I am.

The key to my home is still with me. And through every stitch, so is a piece of Gaza.

“I didn’t want to stay at home. I wanted to meet people, keep myself active, and find something that could bring joy back into my days.”

I’m Sumaya Al-Ghoul, 63. My husband was martyred during the 2008 war in Gaza. Years later, my family experienced another devastating loss when my daughter’s husband and her three daughters were martyred. My daughter survived.

Eventually, my daughter, my son, my grandson, and I came to Egypt. Starting life in a new community has not been easy for me. I found it difficult to connect with people, and I knew I didn’t want to spend all my time at home.

That is what brought me to Taabu.

I already knew some crochet basics, but here I was able to build my skills and feel more confident in what I create. I found a hobby that keeps me active and gives me something enjoyable to look forward to.

I also found people. We sit together, talk, share what we are carrying, and remind one another that we are not alone in our experiences. Sometimes I read Quran with the other women. We listen to each other, and somehow, hearing what others are going through helps us comfort and support one another.

Today, I’m thinking about what I can do with the skill I’ve developed. At my age, and within what I am able to do, I would love to start small, creating pieces like crochet keychains that I can sell and gradually turn into a source of income.

At Taabu, I found something I enjoy, people I can share my days with, and the chance to build something of my own  one small piece at a time.