Between Bombs and Breath: Norhan Almuzaini

Between Bombs and Breath: Norhan Almuzaini

Norhan Almuzaini is 33 years old. A humanitarian, a program officer at Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP), and a woman who has spent years working in Gaza’s most fragile spaces. But more than a job title, she is someone who carries within her a relentless drive, a desire to make life better, even in a place where life is constantly under threat.

Her journey into the humanitarian world wasn’t accidental. It was born from witnessing Gaza’s protracted crisis;  a crisis that has turned generations into survivors. She believed that NGOs and INGOs were among the few institutions left capable of offering young people hope, dignity, and a future worth imagining. And so, she joined the struggle with purpose.

When the most recent war erupted, Norhan found herself paralyzed not by choice, but by circumstance. Trapped in northern Gaza, movement was dangerous and life was suspended. She, a woman committed to helping others, suddenly couldn’t help herself. “I wanted to act,” she said. “But I was afraid for my life.”

After months of silence and survival, she returned as a frontline responder. Joining MAP’s team again in the north, she began supporting health facilities in Gaza City, standing shoulder to shoulder with exhausted healthcare workers trying to save lives in impossible conditions.

The stories she carries now are heavy. A mother’s scream after her two-year-old daughter died in the PICU. An eight-month-old baby girl paralyzed in her sleep by shrapnel. These aren’t just anecdotes; they’re scenes that replay in her min;  raw, unfiltered, and permanent.

Still, Norhan continues. For her, it’s a bitter-sweet reality. “It’s painful,” she admits, “but when we save a life, when we help even one baby survive,  it’s worth it.”

There are days when the weight is too much. No electricity. No stable internet. No safe place to breathe. And yet, she finds ways to cope. She reads novels. She listens to music. She tries to recreate moments of normalcy in a world that is anything but.

Despite the chaos, her impact is tangible. Her work is helping Gaza’s health sector stay afloat. It’s keeping premature babies alive, ensuring mothers can hold newborns in their arms, and giving families a fighting chance.

As a woman, Norhan faces challenges others may not see. The fear, the isolation, the responsibility - it all hits harder when safety is no longer guaranteed. But her identity as a woman also gives her insight. She sees what others overlook. She designs interventions that center the needs of women; the often-unspoken, neglected parts of survival.

What gives her pride isn’t status or recognition, rather it’s the smile of a mother, the breath of a child, the simple victory of life persisting.

Her message to other women, especially those in conflict zones, is simple but profound: “Believe in yourself. You are capable of more than you know. War shows us what we’re made of, and we are made of strength.”

When asked about the future, Norhan doesn’t hesitate. For Gaza, she hopes for peace, freedom, and leadership that sees people before politics. For herself, she dreams of reunion; to see her sister and her family again. To live not in fear, but in peace.

And if the world were listening, for just one minute, her words would echo like a plea, and a truth:

“We deserve to live. We love life. We deserve joy, safety, and choice. Just imagine if it were you. How would it feel to live like this, and know the world is watching, and is still silent?”