MOHAMED AL‑WAHIDI: when a peacemaker is killed
Psalm94:3 How long, LORD, will the wicked, how long will the wicked be jubilant?
Psalm 6:3 My soul is in deep anguish. How long, LORD, how long? (6) I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes.
Is there anything more cruel, more sinister, more inhumane than murdering the one who provides the oxygen you need to survive? It is a violence that goes beyond strategy or battlefield logic — it is the deliberate crushing of hope itself. When a peacemaker is killed, the world inhales a darker kind of silence, because the hands that carried life have been struck down by those who fear it. In Gaza, the death of Mohamed Fawaz al‑Wahidi by the Israel Defence Force is not only the loss of a man; it is the theft of the very hope a wounded people were trying to share.
Mohamed Fawaz al‑Wahidi was the director of public relations for the Egyptian Relief Committee in Gaza, a humanitarian body established by the Egyptian government to deliver food, shelter, medical aid, and community support to Palestinians living under siege.
He was also known as a respected community mediator, heading the Office of Mukhtars and Community Elders — the people who help resolve disputes, build reconciliation, and maintain social cohesion in Gaza’s neighbourhoods. Colleagues described him as “widely loved,” a man with a strong presence, a gift for public speaking, and a reputation for helping families in need.
HIS WORLD CUP PROJECT
During the 2026 FIFA World Cup, al‑Wahidi spearheaded a simple but powerful idea: to erect large public screens across Gaza so ordinary people — displaced, grieving, exhausted — could watch the matches together. It was more than entertainment. It was relief, community, and breathing space in a place where joy is rare and danger constant. His initiative became widely popular, offering Gazans a brief escape from war and deprivation.
THE DANGERS OF ALLOWING PEOPLE TO BREATHE
For those who seek to break the human spirit in Gaza, eliminating these small moments of relief becomes essential. In any conflict, this is profoundly dangerous, because wars are won by crushing the enemy, not only militarily but especially mentally. People cannot survive without spaces to breathe. It is like holding a person’s head under water until they finally drown — remove every moment of air, and despair does the rest. But allow even a brief moment of breathing, and the human spirit begins to recover. And recovery, even in the smallest form, is a quiet act of resistance.
Mohamed al‑Wahidi provided these rare moments of quiet resistance
Just one hour before Egypt’s World Cup match against Argentina, Mohammad was killed when the Israel Defence Force targeted the car he was travelling in. Two other Palestinians were also killed in the attack.
On 8 July 2026, just before the highly anticipated Egypt–Argentina match, Mohamed al‑Wahidi was travelling by taxi to one of the screening sites in Gaza City. Moments before kickoff, an Israeli drone strike hit the vehicle in the Sabra neighbourhood, killing al‑Wahidi and three others — including two young brothers, Hamza (10) and Fari (8).
The Israeli military later issued its usual denial, insisting that al‑Wahidi was not the intended target and claiming the strike was aimed at a Hamas militant. Yet local medical officials and eyewitnesses were clear: the taxi driver, Ahmed Daghmush, was a civilian with no militant ties. It is almost certain that no investigation will follow, and once again a peacemaker has paid the ultimate price in a conflict where civilians bear the brunt of an occupational genocide. How long, O Lord — how long?
WHAT HE WAS DOING IN HIS FINAL HOURS
Before the strike, al‑Wahidi had been attending a neighbourhood reconciliation meeting, helping mediate a dispute between families — the kind of quiet, essential work he was known for. He was returning from this meeting when the missile hit.
WHY HIS DEATH MATTERS
Mohamed al‑Wahidi embodied the fragile threads that hold Gaza’s civil life together: Humanitarian relief, community mediation, public morale and most importantly, moments of joy in the midst of trauma. His World Cup screenings were not political acts. They were acts of humanity — giving people ninety minutes to feel normal, to cheer, to forget the rubble around them.
His death turned what should have been a moment of celebration into yet another reminder of how civilians continue to pay the price even during ceasefires. Mohamed al‑Wahidi is a modern-day hero that should be honoured for a life dedicated to uplift the broken and bring hope to the hopeless
A CHRISTIAN PERSPECTIVE ON HIS DEATH
From a Christian vantage point, the death of Mohamed al‑Wahidi confronts us with the painful truth that peacemakers often walk the most dangerous roads. Regardless wether they are Christian or Muslim. Scripture tells us that “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God,” yet history shows that those who mend wounds and hold communities together are frequently the ones who fall first. Al‑Wahidi’s work — reconciling families, strengthening civil life, and creating moments of joy in Gaza — was the quiet, holy labour of someone who believed that human dignity must be protected even in the darkest places.
His death reminds us that violence does not only claim soldiers and militants; it claims the very people who keep society from collapsing. In Christian reflection, this is not merely a political tragedy — it is a spiritual wound. When a man devoted to reconciliation is killed, the world loses a small reflection of the peace Christ calls us to embody. We grieve because every life bears the image of God, and because the loss of a peacemaker is a loss for all humanity. He was indeed, like a son, reflecting the image of the God of peace
Yet we also hold to hope. The Christian story insists that acts of mercy, however fragile, are never wasted. Al‑Wahidi’s efforts to give Gaza ninety minutes of breathing — a glimpse of joy amid rubble — were seeds of the kingdom, moments where light pushed back against despair. His death does not erase his witness. It calls us to pray, to lament, and to stand with those who continue the work of peace in places where peace seems impossible.
And so we echo the ancient cry of God’s people: How long, O Lord? Not as a question of doubt, but as a prayer of longing — a plea for the day when swords are beaten into ploughshares, when peacemakers no longer die for their kindness, and when every tear is wiped away by the One who sees and remembers.