As she entered Egypt on Wednesday, November 22, Fatima Ashour couldn’t help but sob. These are neither tears of joy nor salvation. Exhaustion, dismay and anger mix. “I had to leave my family, my friends, my colleagues behind. We are being forced to give up everything,” complains this Palestinian lawyer.
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Since October 7, it has been gradually moved from Gaza City to the south of the enclave depending on bombings. “We were surrounded by death. There is no shelter. “Even schools are being targeted,” she says indignantly. Four days earlier, a nearby house in Khan Younes was blown up by a bomb. “We were woken up by shards of glass exploding from the windows above our heads,” she recalls, her eyes wild.
On Wednesday, his name was added to the list of people allowed to leave the enclave. At dawn she went to the Rafah border crossing on the Palestinian side. It is 3:30 p.m. when Fatima Ashour can cross the border. A shoulder bag hangs on her shoulder; In a hurry, she only took a few things and her computer with her. In her left hand she holds tightly her Egyptian passport, “that piece of paper” to which she owes its presence, a privilege that her loved ones did not have.
“My heart stopped beating”
At the Rafah border post, the only refuge from the Palestinian enclave, only foreign passport holders, dual nationals and a few hand-picked Egyptians are allowed to enter Egypt. Since October 21, 7,730 foreigners and 1,100 Egyptians have been evacuated.
In the afternoon the families arrive in groups. A grandmother comes by in a wheelchair. Behind them, the grandchildren hold hands with their school bags on their backs. The father follows him, his head on his shoulders. The faces are tired. Some Egyptians form welcoming committees. The reunion is warm, but not excessive. Everyone is in shock. As the suitcases are hoisted onto the roof of a minibus, only a few words are exchanged.
Faris, 51, scans the Rafah Gate without batting an eyelid, looking for the slightest familiar face crossing the border post. Ten members of his family, who left to celebrate a wedding in Gaza on the eve of the war, are expected to arrive today. “It’s like a trap that has been set for them. My heart stopped beating. This dirty war must stop,” he murmurs, memorizing his words as he casts a cautious glance into the sky, where an Israeli reconnaissance drone buzzes.
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