Yasser Qudih (L) enjoys food with his children during Eid al-Adha celebrations in Cairo, Egypt, June 6, 2025. (Xinhua/Ahmed Gomaa)

CAIRO, June 6 (Xinhua) -- As the Eid al-Adha prayers echoed through Cairo on Friday morning, Yasser Qudih, a former photojournalist from Gaza, couldn't help but think of past celebrations back home.

"Eid in Gaza was always a grand affair," 41-year-old Qudih recalled, as he walked toward a nearby mosque for prayers with his three children -- 16-year-old Salam, 14-year-old Amir, and little Assil.

"We would gather with all our family members after slaughtering the sacrificial animals. The joy of distributing the meat to the needy and our extended family was unparalleled," he noted.

Now, far from his cherished home in Khan Younis, where their two-storey house was destroyed, Qudih and his family live in a cramped rented apartment in Cairo. They left Gaza in May 2024, navigating dangerous paths after difficult months spent in overcrowded tents or seeking temporary refuge in relatives' homes.

More than 100,000 Palestinians have sought refuge in Egypt since the war erupted in October 2023, according to the Palestinian embassy in Cairo. After settling in Egypt, many aspects of their lives changed significantly.

Qudih, who once lived comfortably as a photojournalist, now relies on dwindling savings, further depleted by the painful necessity of selling his car.

"I do not spend like before," he admitted, managing expenses with care. "I'm very keen to narrow my spending, to make these savings last as long as possible, for the sake of my children's uncertain future."

His children attend online classes for displaced Palestinians, a vital but incomplete substitute for the rich learning environment and social connections of their former schools.

His wife, Rana, a quiet source of strength beside him, is equally homesick. Tragically, she lost her parents and three of her siblings in the war, a devastating blow that adds another layer of grief to her displacement.

"I miss those days in Gaza, especially during Eid," she said. "The simple joy of spending good times with my kids, gathering with family and friends, the laughter, the shared meals ... It is all gone now."

The devastating impact of the conflict has left an indelible mark on her spirit, a persistent ache. "I feel immense sadness for losing our home and our future in Gaza," she said, "but I'm more terrified for my family there. They do not feel safe, not for a moment, and they can barely get enough food or clean water."

Despite the profound pain and uncertainty, Qudih strives to find a normality and build new connections in Cairo. He exchanged heartfelt greetings with his Egyptian neighbors during Eid.

"I have made good Egyptian friends here," he said, adding "Egypt has been very kind to us, offering a refuge when we had nowhere else to go, and for that, we are truly thankful."

Yet, the pull of home remains an irresistible force. The middle-aged man still dreams of moving back to Gaza, where he hopes to rebuild his life from the ground up.

Salam, his eldest son, echoes his parent's feelings in exile.

"I miss my school, I miss my friends," he said, remembering Eid mornings in Gaza when he would rise early with his father, uncles, and cousins for communal prayers, followed by a joyful procession to his grandmother's home to offer Eid greetings and receive small gifts.

"I especially miss the big home garden where I used to play football and run around with my cousins," he sighed, contrasting it with their small Cairo apartment.

A few districts away, in another part of the city, 44-year-old computer engineer Mohammed Shaaban was also grappling with the complex, nostalgic emotions of Eid.

After performing the Eid prayers with his two sons, Shaaban took them to his parents' rented apartment, where the Gazan family tradition was recreated as he met with his two brothers, their wives, and their children.

The apartment buzzed with chatter and the comforting smell of homemade traditional Palestinian pancakes prepared by their mother. It was a warm, familiar atmosphere, a precious bubble of connection, yet a profound happiness was still missing, overshadowed by the collective grief.

"We talked about our lives back in Gaza, the memories of better times, the places we missed dearly," Shaaban told Xinhua. "We also talked over the constant challenges we are experiencing here in Egypt, and the uncertainty of our future."

Shaaban admitted that the only thing that can truly bring them genuine, lasting joy is the end of this war and the return to their home.

His brother, Ahmed, a 41-year-old accountant who has managed to secure a stable job at an Egyptian company, showed a glimmer of optimism amidst the shared despair.

"I believe this war will end within a few months, perhaps even sooner. The ongoing talks over a ceasefire and the increasing pressure from the international community will hopefully bring an end to this war," Ahmed said.

His reasonable salary provides a crucial measure of stability for his wife and three children, allowing him to be more proactive in bringing joy to his kids this Eid. He bought them new clothes, symbols of hope and new beginnings, and after prayers, promised to take them to public gardens.

"I hope to be back in Gaza before the end of the year," he said. "I hope we will not wait for long to have this dream come true." ■

Yasser Qudih (R) plays with his child during Eid al-Adha celebrations in Cairo, Egypt, June 6, 2025.

(Xinhua/Ahmed Gomaa)

Yasser Qudih (L) plays with his child during Eid al-Adha celebrations in Cairo, Egypt, June 6, 2025.

(Xinhua/Ahmed Gomaa)

Yasser Qudih (1st R, front) and his children offer Eid al-Adha prayers in Cairo, Egypt, June 6, 2025.

(Xinhua/Ahmed Gomaa)