You won't believe this. It is unbelievable.

In the 21^st century? Impossible.

The owner of the local pizza shop pulls over three trays of pizza and starts boxing them. "Where do you live, little girl?" he asks the rumpled-looking 10-year old who just entered his store, like she does every couple of days. Every time she steps up to the counter, she whispers, "I have 10 brothers and sisters, and we don’t have what to eat."

Now, she points to the building down the street. "I live over there."

'There' turns out to be a few temporary panels cobbled together on one of the rooftops in Beit Shemesh. One of the residents gave them a room he had added on to his apartment, and the rest was made of plaster panels.

Sometimes it’s the pizza store, other times it’s the falafel stand. Two hours before Shabbos they come to the local tzedakah fund begging for coupons to buy food for Shabbos. How do they cook it so late in the day? and where? There's no gas in that crumbling kitchen on the rooftop.

Little children begging for food, fending for themselves.

A family of 13 -- parents and 11 children, suffering unimaginable poverty. Poverty with a capital P.

It gets dark early in the winter, and tomorrow there's a test in halacha. She needs to look after her little brother, busy with his collection of disposable cups – his only toys. They fight, the two girls. "Okaaay, take it." The 9-year old takes a flashlight and goes to sit on her mattress. She wants to be a good student, to get good grades. Shivering from cold, she scratches her head, dirty from days without showers. It's too cold to wash in the cold water in the washtub. Whoever wants a shower needs to fill a cup with hot water from the teakettle and wash with it. Now, she curls up under her ragged blanket and studies with the flashlight. Everyone else needs to sit in the dark.

The next day she's still wearing the stained shirt from yesterday, but she knows her material. Before starting the test, she gets called into the office – "Tell your parents that they need to pay their debt, you can't come to school like this." She leaves the school building, her younger sister in tow. But she studied for that test…!

A large family living under inhumane conditions with no food or electricity. The little wattage they have comes from extension cords pulled from neighbors. There's not enough to run the washing machine or refrigerator – besides, there's nothing to keep cold anyhow.

Hashem gave those children a hard life – they have not a penny for the tiniest of things – no money for busses, bread or socks. The children are left to beg for everything from milk to shirts. And they pay the emotional price for it – a high one.

And if the regular was not enough,

they were dealt a second blow---

The sirens wailed down the street and the firemen raised an elevated extension from the fire trucks. The top floor of an apartment building was burning. Leaping, hungry flames, devouring e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.

Rooms made of plaster disappeared in clouds of smoke. A home – however poor and decrepit, but a place to call home – reduced to a pile of ash and soot. Gone.

And the smell – horrible, all-consuming stench. Really, you don't have to believe written stories – the pictures tell it all. All their meager belongings – what little this soft-spoken, gentle family had – was consumed by flames. Now they really have nothing. And nowhere. No roof over their heads, and no walls on which to place the roof. They have absolutely nothing more than the shirts on their backs. Nothing.

What do you tell a 5-year old whose only toys, his disposable plastic cups, have gone up in smoke? How do you explain the 3-year old where his teddy bear is? That he has nothing at all?

These children are used to 'have-not's. They already don’t have what most kids have. Now, even the little they did have – is gone.

Imagine they could walk up the stairs, 11 children and two parents. Dressed in clean, neatly-pressed clothing, good shoes, washed faces. Smiles. They walk up to a door and open it wide – no need to hide anything from the neighbors anymore. They have bread on a table, and milk in the refrigerator. And beds – one for every child. Security.

They can go to school, and take the tests.

Come home and find food in the house.

With your help, we can do it. We can rehabilitate the family, help them stand on their two feet. Give the children a better like.

A plan has been made to make this a reality. But we need your help, so these children never again have to beg for food, wash their shirts in the sink or worry about being expelled from school. The baby will have diapers and the children will have showers…

Help us. Make sure. Never again.