Monther Abu Al Atta and his son waited two years for the Rafah crossing to open, but were given only two days' notice to pack their bags and head to Egypt's border with Gaza.
Mr Abu Al Atta, 48, left Gaza in early 2024 as a medical companion for his son Mahmoud, 21, who was critically injured when an Israeli air strike hit a market in Khan Younis.
What was meant to be a temporary journey to Egypt for treatment stretched into more than two years of forced separation. Even once a ceasefire was agreed last October, Israel's closure of the Rafah crossing extended the wait into 2026.
“We registered weeks ago through the Palestinian embassy in Cairo and waited,” Mr Abu Al Atta told The National. “Then suddenly, the day before yesterday, they told us to prepare to travel on Monday morning.”
On Sunday night, buses carried them across Egypt's Sinai peninsula. At dawn, they reached the Egyptian side of the Rafah crossing, where they were received by the Egyptian Red Crescent and international staff.
Only two bags each were allowed. They were informed that security screening and Israeli inspection awaited them on the Palestinian side.
The father and son were among the first Palestinians to pass the crossing on Monday, a day after the Israeli army finished setting up a checkpoint on their occupied side of the crossing.
According to a source in the Hamas government in Gaza, 50 Palestinians who completed their medical treatment in Egypt were due to return to the Gaza Strip. But by nightfall they had not yet reached Gaza after delays on the Israeli side.
It was also planned that about 50 people, with 100 companions, would be allowed to travel out of Gaza for treatment. But instead, only five with 10 companions were taken to the border by ambulance in what was billed as a test of the crossing.
Operations may continue through the night, allowing the remaining number to pass.
“Reaching Gaza was a dream,” Mr Abu Al Atta said. “Life in Egypt had less bombing, but every day was fear, for my wife, my children, my family who stayed behind.”
Mahmoud’s condition gradually improved in Egyptian hospitals, and father and son had once believed they would soon return. But the prolonged Israeli closure of Rafah blocked their way back.
“Our home in Tel Al Hawa is gone,” the father said. “We will return to a tent in Al Mawasi, Khan Younis. But even this is better than exile.”
For Randa Abu Mustafa, Rafah is not a road home, but a lifeline outward. Her son Ibrahim lost his sight after being injured early in the war. Medical options inside Gaza were exhausted, and doctors said he was at risk of losing vision in his remaining eye.
“Every attempt to treat him here failed,” she told The National. “There was constant danger.”
More than once, Ibrahim’s name appeared on travel lists, before Rafah was occupied, during the first truce, but each time, the crossing closed again or the war resumed. This time, his name appeared on the very first day of the reopening.
“They told us yesterday to prepare and to take only one bag each,” Randa said.
She left behind her husband and seven children in Gaza, travelling with Ibrahim and her daughter as companions. Despite the uncertainty, her intention is clear: “We will return as soon as treatment ends. Gaza is our country, with its rubble, stones, and tents. It is still the most tender place for us.”
The Rafah crossing was once Gaza’s only outlet to the outside world not directly controlled by Israel, linking the strip to Egypt. Since the start of the war, it has been repeatedly closed, destroyed, or rendered inoperable, trapping thousands of patients, students, and displaced families on either side.
For long periods, Rafah was completely shut following Israel’s military operations in southern Gaza and the occupation of the Rafah area. Even during ceasefires, openings were limited, irregular, and restricted to specific categories, mainly medical cases, under heavy co-ordination and security oversight.
