These are people we have met on the streets of Tel Aviv. Each one has a name, a story, and people praying for them. This page exists because no one who walks through our doors should be forgotten.
43 names: updated May 2026
Kheit
We met Kheit in a moment of complete crisis. She was consumed by rage and desperation, and the chaos around her was palpable. We could not reach her that day. But we saw her, and we remember her name.
Aghsan
Aghsan is a young Arab woman with one leg amputated below the knee. She has been working with us for several months. She cleaned herself up and found a place in a hostel. But her wheelchair broke and left her unable to move, unable to reach us, and vulnerable to attack. We worked to get her a new one. When she came to receive it and sat in it for the first time, her reaction said everything. She was overjoyed. It was a small thing that changed everything.
Nisreen
Nisreen stood quietly nearby while we were talking with someone else. When the moment was right, she stepped forward and said softly that she wants to leave the streets. That kind of quiet courage is often the hardest kind.
Joseph
Joseph is from Sudan and we see him almost every week. He wants to go to rehab. When we talk about faith his eyes light up, and he believes in Jesus with a sincerity that is impossible to miss. We have grown very fond of him.
Omar
Omar came to Israel from Turkey looking for work. He lost his job and now has no way to get home. He is not on drugs or on the streets by choice. He is simply stuck, far from home, with no way back.
Roman
Roman is a truck driver. He is ready to enter rehabilitation. That readiness is not a small thing. It is the hardest step.
Natasha
When we met Natasha she was covered in flies and deeply neglected. She needs basic hygiene supplies and basic human dignity restored to her.
Annie
Annie’s baby, Tom, was taken from her. It is a grief she can hardly speak of. We sat with her and we heard what little she could say.
Alex
Alex knows Jesus and wants to get off methadone. He knows his life cannot stay the same but he needs support and encouragement to take the next step. Once before he took our number and then disappeared. We found him again.
Daniel
Daniel came to us on November 9 and said he wants to leave the street. He showed us photos of his life before addiction. He looked strong and full of joy in those photos. He once had a stable job and a good home. He wants a way back. The one thing standing between him and rehabilitation is his elderly dog, which he refuses to leave behind. We are looking for a rehab that will accept them both.
Johan
Johan is from Russia. We met him on November 16. He cried without stopping. He used to be a boxer, and he described what addiction had done to his body with a painful clarity that stayed with us. We made a plan to take him somewhere safe and asked him to wait. When we came back he was gone.
Uri
Uri asked us to pray for deliverance. He has been through rehabilitation three times and still fights the same chain. He looked tired, but he came to us and asked. That matters.
Marina
Marina cried when we gave her a sandwich and a drink. She told us she would love to have teeth again so she could chew her food properly. She showed us a photo of herself from seven years ago. The contrast was painful. She is losing hope, and that is what worries us most.
Fatma
Fatma has accepted a sad life because expecting change feels too risky. She has stopped hoping in order to stop being disappointed.
Esther
Esther had just been released from the hospital when we found her. Seeing her again was a reminder of how unstable life on the street truly is. People disappear, reappear, get sick, recover, and then start all over again. Nothing is secure.
Abdullah
Abdullah is from Sudan and has been in Israel for twelve years. His story reflects the quiet, long-term uncertainty that many people on the street live with, not a crisis but a slow erosion, year after year with no resolution in sight.
Dan
Dan walked through our doors for the first time. When he looked around he said this place is blessed, and that meant more to us than anything.
Marinda
Marinda was in tears when we met her. Her husband had died and in the emptiness that followed she fell into drugs and lost everything. Her deepest wish was simply to have teeth again so she could chew her food. We thought about that for days.
Then she walked into the soup kitchen and when we called her by her name she burst into smiles. She could not believe we remembered. She had come to expect invisibility. Something broke open in her in that moment. We will keep calling her by her name.
David
David has been living on the streets for a long time. Today he looked at us and said he had no words to describe this place, only that it is blessed. That is enough for us.
Ayala
Ayala came in and asked for one thing: shelter. She has no safe place to sleep. We are working to help her find something.
Faraj
Faraj is Bedouin, originally from Beer Sheva. Today he lives on the streets of Tel Aviv. He sat down, ate, looked around, and said: may God bless this place and keep it open. That sentence carries the weight of someone who knows what it means to need a place like this.
Taufic
Taufic sat with us and shared something vulnerable. He wants to go to a rehabilitation center and is asking for help taking that step.
Haim
Haim started questioning his orthodox upbringing at the age of thirteen and eventually left home to search for the truth. He has not had contact with his family since. When he talks about his mother you can hear that the distance costs him something. He is still searching.
Oleg
Oleg was a follower of Krishna. He sat with Elias and somewhere in that conversation he surrendered his life to God. We do not take moments like that lightly. We have seen too many people walk away from them.
Slava
Slava started coming to the soup kitchen to eat. That was four years ago. At some point he started coming to the prayer room as well. He still needs a house. But something shifted in him that did not shift in everyone else.
Angel
Angel’s father is Shmaiya Angel, one of the most notorious criminals in Israel. She grew up in that world and she cannot get out of it. The drugs have her. We keep showing up.
Ernest
Ernest’s father drove the streets of Tel Aviv looking for his son. He found him. Ernest got in the car. We are praying that was the moment everything changed.
Elenor
Elenor is a transvestite and a male prostitute living with a drug addiction. He has a dog called Mali. He recently found a place to stay after a long time without one. He always comes to chat when he sees us. Of everyone we meet on these streets, Elenor is one of the ones who makes us feel most welcome.
Embal
Embal’s pimp does not allow her to wear pants. She walks the street naked from the waist down. Every time we see her we give her pants. Every time she leaves she has to take them off. She is very small. She is often beaten. We keep giving her pants.
Amir
Amir asked us to take him to rehab. We found a facility in Haifa and made the arrangements. On the day he was supposed to go, he pulled out. We have seen this before. We have not given up on him.
Abderahim
Abderahim wants to get clean. He has been on the street for twenty seven years. He was not young when he started. We do not know his whole story but twenty seven years on the street tells you something about what a person has survived.
Graham
Graham is from Ireland. He has been in Israel for seventeen years. He is not homeless in the way most people we meet are homeless. But he is here, and he keeps coming back, and there is something he is still looking for.
Lara Victoria
Lara Victoria is a transvestite, a male prostitute, living with drug addiction. What stays with us is that he is always eager to talk. In a place where many people are closed off and defensive, Lara Victoria wants conversation. We take that seriously.
Dima
After one of our conversations Dima checked himself into rehabilitation. He could not stand it and ran away. That is not the end of the story. It means he tried. Most people never try once.
Salman
Salman is an Arab from Jerusalem. When he realised he could take food without paying he could not believe it. That reaction stayed with us. It said something about what he expected from the world and what he had learned to expect from people like us.
Sara
A care package arrived from South Africa for the people we serve. When Sara received hers she was overwhelmed. She loved the gifts. She loved the cards. Someone on the other side of the world had thought about her specifically and she felt it.
Moshe
Moshe used to be a chef. When he found the marmalade he could not stop eating it. We had to laugh. Somewhere underneath everything the street has done to him, there is still a man who knows good food and loves it.
Chen
Chen was in tears when we saw her. Her dog had died. On the street a dog is not a pet. It is the one relationship that asks nothing complicated of you and gives everything back. We sat with her in that grief and did not try to minimise it.
Paulina
Paulina had no hair. She asked for a scarf. When she got one she became aggressive. We have thought about that reaction many times. Receiving something can be harder than going without, especially when you have spent a long time learning not to need anything from anyone.
Hanania
Hanania asked us why we do the soup kitchen. It is a simple question. Most people who come do not ask it. The ones who do are usually trying to work something out about the world, about people, about whether any of this means anything.
Udi
Udi came to Israel from India to work. He fell into drugs. That is the whole story as we know it, and it is enough. He is far from home, far from whoever he was when he arrived, and he is still here every week.
Haj Jihia
Haj Jihia had just returned from pilgrimage to Mecca when we met him. He had done what his faith required of him. He was still on the street. We did not treat those two things as a contradiction. We gave him food and we sat with him.
Gal
Gal told us he was a new life. We spent a long time talking to him about the God who gives new life. He was open in a way that not everyone is. We left that conversation with more than we came with.