With more than 90 percent of Gaza’s population displaced amid an unrelenting bombing campaign and ground invasion—resulting in more than 81,000 reported Palestinian deaths since the October 7, 2023, attacks led by Hamas—Palestinian refugees possessing the financial means to leave face extraordinarily few options. While a small fraction of individuals manage to secure rare medical clearance or successfully relocate to countries where they hold dual citizenship, the vast majority attempt to cross the border into Egypt. Yet, upon arrival, many find themselves trapped in a state of indefinite limbo, frequently lacking formal refugee or legal status while grappling with severe medical, financial, and administrative hardships.
More recently, some of those who successfully crossed into Egypt have encountered such insurmountable barriers that they ultimately made the agonizing decision to return to the active conflict zone in Gaza. Among them is Omar, a 36-year-old audio engineer who once coordinated sound production for live concerts across the Gaza Strip. Omar fled his homeland last year after paying thousands of dollars to an Egyptian broker, only to be forced to return late last summer. To protect his safety and out of fear of reprisal by the Israeli military, Omar spoke exclusively to journalists under a pseudonym.
Like thousands of other Gazans seeking safety, Omar evacuated the strip through the vital border city of Rafah in the spring of 2024. His departure occurred just before the Israeli military seized tactical control of the Palestinian side of the crossing and shut it down entirely. According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, this military maneuver effectively blocked critical humanitarian aid from entering the beleaguered enclave while sealing off the border to prevent any further civilian departures.
Reflecting on his desperate bid for safety, Omar explained that staying was no longer an option. "I didn’t want to return to Gaza," he said, noting that his ticket out required paying a staggering $5,000 USD to an Egyptian private security and travel firm known as Hala Consulting and Tourism. "I made the decision when I lost hope of travelling abroad."
Upon arriving in Egypt, Omar settled in a bustling district in eastern Cairo. To survive, he found grueling employment in a local garment factory that manufactured sportswear and rented a modest room for $150 USD a month—roughly equivalent to the average monthly salary earned by a local worker in the city’s textile industry. For the next two years, Omar worked tirelessly, attempting to send vital financial support back to his struggling family in Gaza every month while simultaneously trying to sustain his own basic existence in the Egyptian capital. Accomplishing this dual task without making immense personal sacrifices proved virtually impossible, he recalled.
Earning enough money to live and remit support proved exceedingly difficult. Compounding his frustration, Omar soon discovered that he lacked the financial means or administrative pathways required to apply for visa programs to Canada or other European nations. Furthermore, he watched as many peers who did manage to submit applications faced grueling, indefinite waits for approval.
These applicants included thousands of Gazans desperately hoping to reunite with relatives residing in Canada, only to be met with unusually delayed processing times for temporary visas. Others, Omar noted, spent more than two years waiting for updates, only to have their applications abruptly rejected on the basis of poorly substantiated claims or vague security warnings linking them indirectly to militant activities.
The weight of these systemic failures eventually crushed his aspirations of building a stable life abroad. "Due to my family’s difficult circumstances, I was forced to go back," Omar said, his voice heavy with resignation. "I felt hopeless and saddened because I was unable to travel to a European country or Canada to help my family. I decided to return to Gaza to assist them there."
In February, Israeli authorities reopened the Rafah border crossing under strict regulations, allowing a limited number of displaced individuals to return to the strip. By September 2026, data indicated that more than 5,700 people had made the journey back. Crucially, the policy dictates that only Palestinian residents of Gaza who were already stranded in Egypt are permitted to return through the Rafah crossing. In August of this year, Omar became one of them, stepping backward through the portal of a war zone he had desperately tried to escape.
"It was an extremely difficult and arduous journey," he recalled, describing the humiliating administrative gauntlet required just to return to a place of active bombardment. "You are subjected to thorough security searches and long waits."
At the Regavim checkpoint, where Palestinians returning to the Gaza Strip from Egypt are processed by authorities, Omar recounted the strict confiscation protocols. The few meager snacks he had brought with him for the journey—including pastries, cheese, and small juices—were summarily seized by inspectors. While he was permitted to retain his mobile phone, his charger and wristwatch were confiscated. "You cannot speak to them," he said, describing a total absence of recourse or dialogue. "There is nothing that can be done."
The restrictions on personal belongings were similarly absolute. "Only a 20-kilogram bag was permitted. Any other devices, food items, or therapeutic medications were prohibited," he explained. "I felt a loss of hope."
Upon returning to Gaza, Omar found that virtually nothing had improved during his absence; if anything, conditions had severely deteriorated. Daily life continues to be defined by frantic scrambles for basic sustenance, with endless queues forming for meager rations of bread and clean water. Those fortunate enough to secure scraps of food rely on open fires for cooking, the acrid smell of wood smoke drifting constantly into the canvas tent he now shares with his parents and siblings, both of whom suffer from frail health.
Every time he steps outside, Omar is greeted by a landscape of sprawling, dilapidated tents and human suffering. "I see the look of desperation in people’s eyes, their gazes devoid of any hope or purpose. And the ceaseless sounds of bombs and artillery," he said.
He admitted that when he made the painful choice to return, he had harbored a lingering hope that his presence might somehow alleviate his family’s immense suffering. Instead, reality quickly set in. "Unfortunately, I am unable to do anything. I, too, have started to reach a state of despair. There is no life, no work, no electricity, no potable water, and no goal whatsoever."