The following are stories from some of the many Palestinians who were able to cross into Egypt during or before Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza. Ever since October 7, the Rafah crossing between Gaza and Egypt has been completely closed down, with only a few people allowed through due to medical reasons or due to holding a foreign or Egyptian passport. Many of the Gazans who were able to cross are now left stranded in Egypt with an uncertain future, cut off from their families, and unable to know what might befall their loved ones in Gaza. Many of them suffer from poverty, living in deplorable conditions and waiting for the end of the war so they can return home. For most, there won’t be a home to return to, but it isn’t shaking their resolve.
The patient
“I’m Mahmoud Ibrahim Mahmoud, from Beit Hanoun in northern Gaza. I was transferred to Egypt from Naser Hospital for medical treatment. I have already undergone five operations, two of which were in Gaza City, and the remaining three were in Egypt. During this period, I had to undergo another surgery, which is challenging due to my diabetes and hypertension…currently, I am on a six-month medical plan, trying to figure out the next step for my treatment.
Mahmoud has been stranded in Egypt since before the war, and has lost contact with his family and is unsure of their fate (Photo: Mohammed Salem)
“I face many challenges in Egypt, one of them being poverty. When we were transferred from Gaza, we didn’t have enough money, it was very little. Now, we can’t afford rent for accommodations, as they start from 5000/6000 Egyptian pounds per month. Moreover, during this ongoing war, my children, along with their families, were displaced multiple times to UN schools and the streets. They have no place to stay, as our five-story building was completely demolished by Israeli airstrikes. I have lost all connection with them, and I don’t know if they are still alive.
“I am a 62-year-old man, and I never imagined witnessing such destruction and violence in Gaza. I haven’t been in touch with my family at all. I don’t know if they managed to find a place to stay, if they are starving, or if they are thirsty. There is no electricity or WIFI, making it impossible to contact them. I haven’t spoken with them for the past few days, and as a result, I am suffering from insomnia. I have six sons and daughters, and they are not even together; they were all displaced to different places in Northern Gaza.
“If I had known this war was going to happen, I would have gone back to Gaza and stayed with my family, facing whatever consequences together. I spend my whole day watching the news, trying to get any information about my family. It’s affecting my mental health so much that I can’t eat, drink, or even go for a walk.
“I have lost many loved ones, including cousins, neighbors, and friends. A few days ago, we lost my cousin Rawdah Naser, a brave doctor who always took care of the family’s medical health and ensured everyone was in a safe place.
Amnah (right) and her husband Mahmoud (right) (Photo: Mohammed Salem)
“I have already come to Egypt six times before for treatment by myself. This time, my wife wanted to join me. I told her I couldn’t afford the trip, as I needed to pay $300 for her to leave Gaza, in addition to accommodation and other expenses required for the trip.
“I hope we can return to our beloved homeland soon. Also, I hope we can receive good news about the rest of my family soon. God willing, we will go back, even if it means living in temporary accommodations on the ashes of our houses.”
“I am Amnah Ali Ramadan Alshimbari, married to a man from the Naseer family. I am 59 years old. I have three girls and one boy with Abu Mohammed, all of whom are displaced now. Additionally, I have three girls from my ex-husband, my cousin, who was martyred. Those three girls are now married and with their husband’s families.
Amnah has been stranded in Egypt with her husband Mahmoud since before the start of the war. (Photo: Mohammed Salem)
“The fact that my three girls are away is really affecting me; I cry every day. I miss my children, my son, my girls, their children, our home, and all of our neighborhood. I have never experienced this before. I still believe I am in a dream. This is not real. I am going to turn 60 soon, and I have never seen a war like this one. This is not a war; it’s genocide. It’s destruction. Whenever I watch TV or hold my phone, I feel like I die a hundred times a day, watching people dismembered, houses being destroyed, and planes throwing bombs, and I can do nothing.
“I wish I could go back and see my children and hug them. I was deprived of seeing my older three girls for 12 years when I got divorced, and I couldn’t see them until they grew up. Those girls experienced my love and care only twice in their lives. They always ask me, ‘Why did you leave us?’ and cry over the neighbor’s phone. We didn’t talk a lot, as the phone went off.”I wish I could go back and see my children and hug them. I was deprived of seeing my older three girls for 12 years when I got divorced, and I couldn’t see them until they grew up. Those girls experienced my love and care only twice in their lives. They always ask me, ‘Why did you leave us?’ and cry over the neighbor’s phone. We didn’t talk a lot, as the phone went off.
“Whenever I watch TV or hold my phone, I feel like I die a hundred times a day” – Amnah Alshimbari (Photo: Mohammed Salem)
“Now, I can’t reach my children, and I can’t contact them. Every time I call, there is no signal.
“Five of my cousins from my father’s side were martyred, as well as my cousins from my mother’s side, who were all still young. In addition, my husband’s relatives were martyred as their house was bombed. We also lost my brother’s wife, their two girls and son, her family, and the Naser family in the massacre in Almagazi camp. All of them were very nice and studying medicine. The youngest was in tenth grade.
“I want the war to stop. Let us go back to our home and see our kids. Enough war, massacres, and blood.”
The former resistance volunteer
“My name is Yousif Saber El Karafenh, 67 years old, from Beit Hanoun. In 1967, the Israeli occupation forces expelled us from our homes in Palestine, and we became refugees in Egypt. At that time, I was 17, and I volunteered with the Palestinian resistance group, moving between Libya, Lebanon, and Syria. A few years later, I had the opportunity to return to Gaza, where I got married and had children. However, due to personal reasons, I had to leave, but all of my children remained in Gaza.
Yousif was a volunteer with the Palestinian resistance in his youth, and was eventually able to enter Gaza and start a family. He then left Gaza, and is separated from his family due to the war. (Photo: Mohammed Salem)
“Currently, I am experiencing mental and emotional distress from being separated from my family. We all deserve to live a better life, just like other nations. The ongoing conflict since 1948 has not ceased, and I do not believe it will end anytime soon. Unfortunately, it leads to poverty, making life incredibly difficult. I wish my family could be with me in a safe place.
“I constantly watch the news, which is on 24/7. I have lost approximately 150 family members. Additionally, one of my cousins, a Ph.D. graduate and the Mayor of Beit Hanoun, witnessed the tragic killing of his son by the Israeli army.”
The migrant worker
“I am Fadi Mohamed Ahmad Shabat from Jabaliya, 38 years old, and married with four sons and two daughters.
“I left Gaza a few days before the war. I had a visa to Algeria, but I wanted to spend some time in Egypt. However, as the war started, I postponed my visit to Algeria until I could ensure my family’s safety.
“I am facing financial struggles in Egypt as I don’t have enough money with me, and the accommodation prices are really high. On the other hand, I am unable to get in touch with my family to ensure my wife and kids are safe and alive due to the lack of signal.
Fadi was on his way to Algeria for work when the war broke out. He is now stranded in Cairo and struggles to maintain contact with his family. (Photo: Mohammed Salem)
“Because of this communication barrier, I’ve lost contact with my family and friends, and I am continuously stressed thinking about them.
“I lost my 15-year-old son when my house was bombed. They found my other son alive under the rubble a few days after the airstrike. Around 50 of my cousins were killed.”
Fadi’s son was killed in an Israeli airstrike while he was stuck in Egypt. His other son was found alive under the rubble. (Photo: Mohammed Salem)
All photos in this essay were taken by the author.
Mohammed Salem
Mohammed Salem is a Palestinian freelance photojournalist and reporter now residing in Cairo. His work has appeared in Al Jazeera English and other international and local news agencies. You can follow him on Instagram at @mhmad_sa.