As millions of Muslims converge on Makkah for the sacred pilgrimage of Hajj, many Palestinians from Gaza are undertaking the journey with hearts burdened by war, displacement, and separation from loved ones.
Among them is Mohammed Shehade, a 38-year-old engineer who left Gaza in February seeking life-saving cancer treatment in Egypt.
Although he was granted permission to leave, Israeli authorities barred his wife and four children from accompanying him.
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His departure coincided with a rare truce in Israel’s ongoing war on Gaza, giving him the unexpected opportunity to apply for Hajj. Yet the joy of reaching Islam’s holiest sites has been eclipsed by the anguish of separation.
“This is life’s greatest suffering, to be far away from your family,” Shehade told AFP near Mecca’s Grand Mosque, surrounded by pilgrims robed in white, Al Ahram reported.
“You could be in the best place in the world but if you are away from your family, you will never be happy.”
More than 1,800 Gazans—some already residing in Egypt, and others invited by the Saudi king—are expected to perform Hajj this year. Most of them, like Shehade, have escaped war under dire circumstances.
“For months, I’ve prayed day and night for the war to end and to be reunited with my family,” he said, tears forming in his eyes.
“Here I am preparing to perform Hajj but there are things I can’t speak about. If I do, I will cry.”
The war, described by the International Court of Justice and global rights organisations as genocide, has devastated Gaza since it began nearly 20 months ago.
Hearts in Gaza
According to the Gaza health ministry, at least 4,149 people have been killed since March 18 alone, bringing the total death toll to over 54,000—most of them women and children.
“When I left, I was caught between two fires,” Shehade recalled. “The need for surgery and the heartbreak of leaving my family behind.”
Rajaee Rajeh al-Kahlout, a 48-year-old businessman, also fled Gaza for Egypt with his wife and four children.
His home was destroyed, and his import-export business ruined. Although grateful to perform Hajj, Kahlout says the war’s shadow looms large.
“All my family, my sisters and brothers, are still in Gaza… Every waking moment, we fear for our family,” he said.
“I wish I could have come here during better times, without war, death and destruction.”
In the lobby of a Makkah hotel hosting Gazan pilgrims, a widow in her 60s wept quietly. Evacuated for medical treatment last year, she hasn’t seen her 10 children since.
“I’m always thinking about Gaza. My life is there—my children, my home… I want to return.”
As Hajj begins, the prayers of Gaza’s pilgrims echo with longing—not just for spiritual elevation, but for peace, survival, and reunion.