From Ground Zero (2024)

[bunniefuu]

FROM GROUND ZERO

STORIES FROM GAZA

SELFIE

REEMA MAHMOUD

Dear friend.

I'm writing you a letter that I hope

you will read while I'm still alive.

I wish you a happy and beautiful life,

better than mine is now.

I'd like to share with you

my daily struggles:

destruction, ruin, and death

are consuming everything around me.

It's 6 am

and I still haven't shut my eyes.

My body is tired

because of the noise of planes, rockets,

ambulances, and even

the sound of my own thoughts.

The feeling that danger could come

to my friends, my loved ones, or myself.

Sleeping in a tent

is truly exhausting.

Every morning I wait

in line for the public toilets,

listening to the stories

of refugee women.

Then I go back to my tent

to put on makeup to hide

the signs of fatigue and insomnia

that have appeared on my face.

I drink a cup of tea but the taste

has become bland and foreign to me.

It used to accompany me

gently in the mornings

and in my beautiful thoughts.

Then I put on my dress to go out,

the one that almost cost me my life

when I went to get it

from the house in Abasan Kbira

East of Khan Yunis

after we, along with over

a million others, became refugees

at the Egyptian border.

Today we're all heading to Abassan.

We're going because...

I'm visiting our house,

which we thought been destroyed

but by Allah's grace it's only

partially destroyed

But it's no longer the home

we used to know

By Allah's grace, it's still standing.

I hope it stays that way and that we'll

return one day, at the end of the w*r.

There's a lot of mess,

I don't recognize my home anymore.

I forgot to tell you about my cat Reema.

She refused to follow me

and stayed hidden in the house.

God, how I miss her, my home,

and my old life there.

You know, I miss my appearance

and my femininity.

Look at what I used to be

and what I have become.

Let me tell you about our bustling market.

We're looking for some pieces of bread

which is more expensive than

in Paris or London.

Even the canned goods

are often expired.

Diseases and epidemics

have spread.

People who don't die

in bombings

die from disease, hunger,

or oppression.

It is now 4 o'clock,

in this timezone of w*r

I'm coming back from volunteering

at the service for refugee women.

I can only think about

what might happen next.

Which makes me remember

the worst from the past wars.

Especially the w*r of 2014,

when they bombed my house,

k*lled my father and 17 people

from my family.

Despite the silence of the camp

and my need to sleep,

the overcrowding and lack

of privacy in the tent

and outside make everything uncomfortable.

But with the presence

of my little devil Adam,

I feel loved, safe,

and I regain my hope for the future.

You cannot bear to listen to the news,

but you cannot not listen either,

because maybe tonight, we'll receive

news of a ceasefire.

Unfortunately,

tonight's news

is of the bombing

of my sister Nora's house

and the death of her whole family

except for her daughter Ghena,

who remained alive

for two days under the rubble.

Everyone around me is in sorrow

and suffering

but they hold on to hope

of returning to their destroyed homes.

They're attached to their land

and their identity

and refuse to relive

the scenario of 1948.

Dear unknown friend,

Of course, I don't know you,

and don't know where or when

you'll read this letter.

I forget to tell you,

in the day I await the night,

either to sleep or

to escape from this reality.

And at night I await the morning

to feel safe.

It's a strange contrast

between day and night.

I'm attaching to to this letter

an electronic memory.

It's a video of my life.

Now that's the only way

to communicate with the world

outside of this place on the globe.

This corner of the world,

which today is missing

all means of communication

and transportation.

Believe me, my friend, I had

a beautiful life in a beautiful city.

I love it for itself

and for those who live there.

My advice to you: enjoy life.

Because life is beautiful

and w*r is ugly, truly ugly.

NO SIGNAL

MUHAMMAD AL SHARIF

Omar!

Can anyone hear me?

Omar!

Nour?

Why did you come here? I told you

to stay with your grandmother!

I want to help you find dad.

Help me? Come on.

You want to help me?

Keep calling your father.

God willing, he'll answer you.

Stay here, don't move.

Omar!

Who are you? What are you doing here?

I'm gathering firewood.

Who are you? What do you want?

Who am I?

I'm the owner of the house!

Your house? This is where I gather wood,

I come here every day.

I've never seen you.

Okay, just leave, get out of here!

- Come on, Uncle!

- I'm coming!

- Did your dad answer?

- Yes, but the phone died.

- Are you sure dad answered you?

- Yes.

- What did he say?

- Hello.

- Did he sound okay?

- No.

Okay, that's enough. Stay here.

Wood guy!

- Wood guy!

- What do you want?

- Wait a minute!

- Yes, what?

When I yelled at you, I was lost

My brother's alive!

He's been under the rubble

for two days, but he's alive.

How could he be alive?

Are you feeling okay?

It's impossible that he's

still alive, how do you know?

His daughter spoke to him, he said "Hello"

but my phone's out of battery.

Call civil defense or

give me your phone and I'll do it.

They won't come out here.

They're digging about a hundred martyrs

out of the house over there.

They told me they had

a bulldozer! Omar! Omar!

Listen to me! Listen to me!

They're out of gasoline!

Take this!

You lift there and I'll lift here.

It's getting too dangerous here,

take the girl and let's go.

We'll come back tomorrow.

We'll come back! We'll come back!

Nour. We. We have to leave.

Let's go, Nour.

Nour! Do you feel that your father

is still alive?

-Nour! Let's leave here.

-My father is still alive.

I know he's still alive.

I promise we'll come back tomorrow.

SORRY, CINEMA

AHMED HASSOUNA

Scene 35, take one.

Three. Two. One. Action.

I am Ahmad Hassona from Gaza.

I have always dreamed

of becoming a director.

I know that's a distant

and unlikely dream.

Say you want to sh**t a movie,

how do you make it happen?

And where do you screen it?

There is not a single cinema

in our country.

What drives you to confront

our society and its leaders?

I have made many documentaries.

But I wanted to direct fictions

that the whole world would watch.

I struggled and worked day and night.

I wished there were 48 hours in the day,

so I could write

and assemble my team.

I found actors who shared my goal,

and the dream of screening

this film in major festivals

of traveling and

walking on the red carpet.

After four and a half years,

the film was finally finished.

It was selected for a festival

and won an award.

Neither my team nor I could travel

with the film to receive the award.

We remained imprisoned

in Gaza, deprived of our dreams.

The title of the film is "Istrupya,"

which means "Senseless loss."

Our greatest loss was

not being able to see the film

in front of the audience

on the big screen.

But I learned a lot and became

even more committed to my dream.

My life became a marathon.

I was running after cinema,

searching for films and funding.

Now my life has became

a different kind of marathon.

Now I am running to save

my family's lives and my own.

I run, hoping

to find food and drink

for my children

who flee the bombings

from one house to another.

Ahmad!

Are you okay?

Where are you?

Get out of there!

Are you okay?

Come, come.

I struggle to endure

the things I see and hear.

Everything that is happening to us.

Everything we are going through.

I have just lost my older brother

in a random bombing

next to his house.

What?

The whole tower?

Collapsed?

At that moment, I felt

death catching up with us.

Our only chance of survival

was luck. Our only chance...

of escaping the rubble,

the bombed houses, the ruins of the city.

Nowhere in. Gaza is safe,

especially in the north

where I currently live.

Here, no humanitarian aid,

nor rescue,

nor civil protection arrives.

All that comes are

bombs, fear, stress,

and insecurity.

Now I wish there were

only 12 hours in the day.

Time has become my enemy.

It offers me no respite.

My only priority is staying alive

running, gathering wood

to make fire,

to cook and eat

whatever you can find.

Forgive me, cinema.

I will put the camera aside

and run with the others.

among the destroyed houses.

For the moment I will abandon

you, cinema,

who shows the hunger of a people.

Today is the first time I have heard

the sound of a civilian airplane.

They call it the aid plane.

Planes fly overhead

and the people follow them.

Including me,

to feed my children.

Are they coming?

Up there.

Boys

Run!

There! That's it.

Give me a bag!

All this flour on the ground.

Isn't this tragic?

As you can see, we're picking up

flour and sand.

That's all we have left to do.

We pick up whatever

we find on the ground.

We have to eat.

Many emotions, thoughts

that I can't express

about this w*r,

which has ground us down.

Many details,

difficult to hear.

All I can say is:

Cinema, forgive me.

FLASHBACK

ISLAM AL ZERIEL

Why do I always have a bag of clothes?

Because we might be bombed

or have to leave

or there could be a leaflet drop

telling us to evacuate,

or a ground invasion.

You grab the bag and run.

One Thursday night at 1:07

I wake up, it seems like

the house is fine

and suddenly the whole house

is in darkness.

Our things are flying everywhere.

The cat flies with his basket,

People surrounded by debris everywhere.

You cant do anything, there's

no time to cry, to react. It's impossible.

In that moment all I want

is to save myself.

I get out, I run. A neighbour grabs me

and takes me into his house.

I scream as if it were a dream,

an unreal nightmare.

Since that day, whenever I wake up

I see myself sitting in my house

and I imagine...

I imagine myself at home.

Sleeping in the living room

even though its very hot.

Since weve been here,

sometimes I go to bed early

because I am afraid that suddenly

even though the house seems fine,

the darkness will come back

and it will start again.

Do you know where the others are?

Mum!

Im always trying to keep busy.

Painting a lot, studying,

reading and writing.

I do all this to relieve the stress.

I am alive.

I am alive.

There are always drones

making a buzzing sound.

They are always above our heads

when we sleep, study, dance...

When I dance, I always put on my headphones

and turn on the music.

Suddenly, I have a flashback

my brain stops because of the drones.

My thoughts scatter.

So you take refuge in your headphones.

ECHO

MUSTAFA KOLAB

Where should we go?

Are you alone, or are there

people in the street?

We left the park and

we want to go to another street.

Wait.

Oh, my God.

Should we go to Khalil's?

Go to Khalil's.

How can we get there? Is it safe?

Go to Khalil's.

With Allah's help, go quickly.

We're leaving Farah's place.

Come back, come back.

Go into any house, get inside.

Why did you go out under the bombs?

Walk, take your brother's hand.

What's wrong, Yasmine?

Why did you go outside?

Are you there?

We're at the top of the street.

God protect us.

Quickly, quickly.

Get into the first house.

We're in front of Khalil's.

Have you arrived?

-They're not here.

-Why?

Did they go out?

If Khalil's family isn't there,

go back home.

Maybe the door is open.

Shahin, open the door.

Open the door.

Yasmine what's happening

We're in Khalil's house.

And I'm the idiot who let you go out.

Were at Khalil's.

Get in, get inside.

There is no strength or power

but from Allah.

EVERYTHING IS FINE

NIDAL DAMO

Dear Allah, what can I do about this w*r?

Nothing has ever stopped me from

doing stand-up.

Even the w*r.

w*r or no w*r

I will take my shower and do the show.

Damn, look at that queue.

It doesn't matter.

Even if I have to wait all day,

I need to take my shower before the show.

Hello? Yes, I'm coming.

Yes, I finally took my shower.

Yes, I'm coming.

Get ready. I'm coming.

OK. See you in a bit.

I will do the best stand-up ever.

Allah.

Amazing.

It's not just that

I'm going to do stand-up.

And where?

In the place most dear to me.

In Al Nuseirat.

Oh. Nuseirat, a pain in the heart.

More than 200 dead in one hour.

I'm coming to perform.

There's no performance stronger than this.

Thank you.

SOFT SKIN

KHAMIS MASHARAWI

We must not block the arm,

because afterwards we need

to be able to move it.

Since we became refugees,

I haven't seen my friends again.

When the bombing starts,

my mother panics in the camp.

She drops everything she's carrying,

letting it fall and break.

When she's inside, she rushes outside.

When she's outside, she runs back in.

She breaks everything.

When the bombs fell, we fled the house.

We didn't know where to go,

so we stayed in the street.

All the buildings were falling down.

An ambulance told us

to leave the street.

Our mother grabbed us

and we started running.

My little brother is one year old.

He can only say "daddy"

and make the sound of an ambulance.

My mother said to my aunt:

"I want to write my children's names

on their arms."

While she was doing it

I asked her why.

She started crying.

When mom wrote on me,

she was crying.

And so was I.

My mother also wrote my name

on my body.

If they b*mb us, we'll be in pieces.

I don't want them to write on my body.

I don't want them to gather my pieces.

What have we decided

to make the film about?

Writing on the bodies.

No! The story of my brother

and the ambulance.

The writing on the bodies is better.

Hassan, what do you think?

Do what you want, as long as I'm the hero.

When my mother wrote our names

on my brother's and my body...

I couldn't sleep.

I ended up rubbing it off.

I wanted to rub off my brother's.

He asked me why,

I told him

"mom wanted me too",

so you can sleep,

because I know you're very sensitive.

Make a small movement

and then take a picture.

And take your hand away.

No. That's too much.

We start here.

No, you can't move it like that.

You move him, you take your hand away

and you tell him to take the photo.

Move him.

Take a photo.

Take a photo.

Take a photo.

Now, we're going to zoom in.

You need to move the camera

from here downwards.

Slowly.

Zoom in a little more.

Like that we get

a dose-up on his face.

Move aside and let me out.

Mom wrote on my arm.

She's afraid for us because of the planes.

If they b*mb us and k*ll us

we'll be identified.

From our names written on our bodies.

Are mom and dad afraid of the planes?

And you? Are you scared?

I don't like ambulances.

Why are you rubbing it off?

Mom wrote it

in case we die.

I'll erase it for you so you can sleep.

Ever since mom wrote it,

I've been having nightmares.

CHARM

BASHAR AL BALBISI

THE TEACHER

TAMER NIJIM

Give me the rock.

Give me the rock, Maya.

Give it to me, my darling.

Give me one.

One more.

I'm going to get some water

If I find some, I'll charge my phone

and see if there's any bread,

and while I'm at it, I'll see

if I can find some food.

Goodbye.

There's no more?

Is there space to charge my phone here?

-Any chance to charge it?

-Give it to me, I'll check.

Come back in an hour.

Keep it, I'll be back in an hour.

Alright, come back later.

Take care of it.

Alright.

Too bad for the bread today.

Oh well.

No more water?

Hello.

Sorry, there's no way to charge it.

- Not possible?

- No.

Any space left?

All taken.

Thanks.

Goodbye.

-Hello.

-Hello.

Professor Ali?

I was one of your students

two years ago.

-That's right, that's right.

-Do you need anything?

No thank you, my friend,

I have everything I need.

If you need anything

I'm here.

Thank you, my friend. Bye.

A SCHOOL DAY

AHMED AL DANAF

Here lies Kamal Youssef.

Teacher, Martyred 12/01/2024

OVERBURDEN

ALAA ISLAM AYOUB

On the 11th of November 2023

it got too dangerous.

We decided to leave Gaza City,

and head North.

My mother said to take

only the essentials.

We would have to walk a lot

and could not be overburdened.

I looked at my bookshelf.

What is heavier than my grief?

I didnt know which books to take.

The ones I had read and cherished

or the ones that might

lighten my days.

I took nothing.

We didnt want to overburden ourselves.

Yet I took three suitcases,

heavier than any books.

I still remember that moment

as we walked under the sun,

past the soldiers and

how I carried that heavy burden

because we couldn't get tired

or drop a single thing.

Im very surprised that we survived.

It's as if those days

are h* longer part of my life.

One strange dream follows another,

and wakes me up.

It's as if I were living in my books,

guilty of leaving them behind.

Especially "The Woman from Tantoria".

Its the first thing

I should have taken

but I felt it would bring bad luck.

Leaving Gaza in a crowd

reminds me of what happens in the book

when they were forced to leave

the village of Tantura,

when the occupation forced them to flee,

leaving all their belongings behind,

in 1948.

I didn't take it because

in the book they couldnt return.

And I want to return.

I feel like Im in a book.

I miss the sea, like Ruqqaya does.

Ruqqaya, the woman in the novel,

a daughter of the sea

was forced from her village.

We are the same.

Who am I? I'm a daughter of the sea,

forced to become a refugee

I miss the sea.

I am Ala'a. Why have I become Ruqqaya?

Who decided to trap me inside the book

until the sky freezes

and to make me live every day away from

my city of Gaza, my sea, and my books?

Ruqqaya grew up far from her home,

she died oppressed

and never returned.

When I think back to mother saying

"don't overburden yourself"

the instruction that made me

leave all my books behind

I catch myself laughing.

What is heavier than oppression?

How could I have thought for an instant

that my books weighed more?

HELL'S HEAVEN

KARIM SATOUM

What happened?

How come I woke up in a body bag?

How did I end up in this bag?

What country? What life?

What happened to me yesterday?

Remember what you did yesterday.

Yesterday,

I was walking down the street.

I was looking at our life,

what it had become.

There I met my friend

We sat on the edge of the camp

with no work, no occupation.

We were happy to still be alive.

God, where Were we, and where are we?

Then, I chopped wood feverishly.

I completely destroyed it.

I took out all my frustrations on it.

We cooked, ate...

and then Karim, what did you do?

I went to see the sea.

Nothing remains of this city,

except the sea.

That being said,

I returned to my tent.

I was exhausted.

I wanted to sleep a little.

I had neither mattress, nor pillow,

nor blanket.

Leaving our homes,

we couldn't take anything with us.

I see myself leaving the tent

and stepping out.

Free washing and burial for the deceased.

When I took the body bag,

someone stopped me

and told me it's forbidden

to take one of these bags.

I replied: "If I become a martyr,

will I be placed in one of those bags?"

He said yes.

Let me then

enjoy it while I'm alive,

and not just after my death.

It's as if you feel yourself

going from Hell to Heaven.

24 HOURS

ALAA DAMO

Abed!

Abed! What do you need?

I was targeted three times in 24 hours.

The first time my cousin and I

were returning from Camp 5.

They attacked the house and

we were buried in the wreckage.

I was wounded in the eye.

An ambulance took me to the hospital.

Then we came back home.

My cousin arrived at the door

and the attack began.

Suddenly, there was no more electricity,

debris fell on us like rain.

The place became very narrow.

My cousin Khalid was close to me.

Suddenly, Khalid shouts "Mosab!"

The door handle

was preventing him from breathing.

I tried to help him but I could

only move the upper part of my body.

I tried to get him free from the door

but there were 3 meters

of debris on top of us.

I couldn't imagine

what was above us.

I thought it was doable

but I wasn't able to.

I had my phone, I turned it on,

my brother was near me.

I couldn't help them.

I started calling

for help on the phone.

It's Samy, another cousin,

talking to me.

Tell him we're coming slowly

so the rubble doesn't fall on him.

We're coming boys we're coming

Slowly, slowly.

When they heard my voice, they knew

I was the only one still alive.

The civil defense started working.

They got me out first

after an hour and a half.

anyone up there?

- No, nobody, Mosab.

- My head is under pressure.

-Are you breathing normally?

- I'm fine, I'm not injured.

Do you see that? If someone breaks it

and removes this stone I can get out.

Ok, ok, one minute.

Mosab, who's next to you?

Khalid? Is he dead?

- Yes.

Khalid, my cousin,

he was my childhood friend,

We were the same age.

We went to the same school

from kindergarten to high school.

Thank Allah I wasn't injured,

I could move and walk.

After going to the hospital

and burying our martyrs,

I went to my uncle's house.

\Ne sat down

and had dinner together.

After a few moments,

we were terrified by

the sound of an expl*si*n.

I heard the expl*si*n,

and suddenly we were buried

under debris again.

A part of the mosque's roof

fell on us.

The ground around us

was completely destroyed.

Our martyrs were

8 children from my family,

my aunt and her husband,

my aunt's daughter and

her five year old daughter,

The third attack

was the toughest of those 24 hours.

Thank God, come out.

Let him wash his face.

-I can stand up, I can.

- Ok, enough, leave him, leave him.

Do you want to make an opening there?

The wall that supports the door,

you have to cut a meter off it.

We thank Allah you're alive.

When I came out,

the first thing I thought of was

my father and mother.

When I saw them under the rubble

They were beside me.

My mother, Allah bless her,

had her head against mine.

My father's leg

was near my head.

I could feel them.

When I came out, my brother and I

started removing the debris.

To rescue my mother and father first,

even though my sister, my niece,

my uncle, my aunt,

and five other members of my family

were under there too.

I miss my family, my home

and my work.

Every stage of my life was demolished

in front of my eyes.

It's Allah's will.

JAD AND NATALIE

AWS AL BANNA

Today is one of the hardest days

of my life.

Today, I saw my future

slip through my hands.

What I held most dear

in life is gone.

I have just lost the one I love.

Nour has gone.

We had agreed

that I would propose to her soon.

I didn't know

this would be our fate.

She's gone.

And her family too.

We had agreed

on the names of our children.

The first boy would be named Jad.

And if it was a girl, Nathalie.

She's under the rubble.

You know what...

even they could not bring her out.

I feel such oppression.

I can't even cry.

Allah.

Allah!

When will this w*r end?

I...

Come here.

I can't help it, I love her.

RECYCLING

RABAB KHAMIS

TAXI WANISSA

ETIMAD WASHAB

Eat, Wanissa.

BAKERY

I'm Etimmad,

director of the short film "Wanissa".

As I was filming,

I was crushed by a tragic event.

I learned about the death of my brother

Nassem and his children.

It shattered me.

I was depressed

and I lost the desire

to continue this work.

I was just starting

but I couldn't continue filming.

I gave up, I felt alone,

unable to do anything.

I had planned an ending

where Ahmad, my character, would die

in a bombing

and Wanissa, the donkey,

would return home alone.

I realized, after the tragedy,

that I couldn't finish the story.

I could only finish it

with my testimony.

OFFERINGS

MUSTAFA AL NABIH

Every thing of beauty

is an offering to Allah.

And we are the offerings

of the present time.

I became a writer with the wish to free myself

from the traditional Palestinian narrative.

I chose to tell stories of our society

and I decided

to talk about life, hope, and love.

Since the w*r, I didn't know if I could

approach these subjects in the same way.

Displaced, I suddenly moved

from one life to another.

As if I had opened a door

into another time,

full of tents and sad people,

dusty faces,

streets flooded with sewage.

The markets, the canned food,

everything is too expensive.

You need a fortune just

to find something to eat.

Today, I want to tell you a story.

Are you ready?

I want to tell you the story

of my grandfather Khaled.

When he fled Jaffa,

he landed in Gaza.

He lived in tents

like the ones we live in today.

They displaced us from Jaffa to Gaza.

They displaced us from Gaza

to other places

so that we would forget Jaffa.

But we will never forget.

I fell over when I picked up

that brochure for you.

We have lost many relatives,

friends, family, a father.

The most painful thing

is that they are just numbers now.

We know they had a past,

dreams, a life, and a future.

But when the news comes, they tell us

100, 200 martyrs, a family wiped out,

Numbers.

No recognition of the human beings.

What's that over there?

Can you see the fire?

I don't know when the w*r will end.

We will all need therapy

to endure all the pain.

No one is okay.

Take me away, oh Allah,

from this mournful garden.

I want to live in peace.

NO

HANA ELEIWA

Hello Hana.

What if we filmed people from Khozaha

who have come home after the fighting?

These people have found

their homes destroyed,

and they have very powerful testimonies.

Listen Hanaa,

I was just at the camp

and I saw a man in the sea

because he had no water to wash himself,

and women washing dishes in the sea.

Listen Hanaa, there's a story

that no one has told yet.

a house was bombed and most

of the bodies were removed from the rubble

Three are still under the rubble.

The family whose house it was

or rather the surviving members

wrote on the rubble that Omar, Abdulah,

and Mazin are still buried underneath.

What do you think of this subject

that no one has touched so far?

No Ahmad, I don't want any

of the stories you've just proposed to me.

Listen, I'm looking for a subject that

speaks of joy, happiness, hope, love

with music.

Who makes music in Gaza, Ahmad?

Who makes music in Rafah?

Ahmad?

Hello, how are you?

What have you found?

I have the music you're looking for.

Great!

I'll call Said.

Hello, how are you?

-What are you doing these days?

-Nothing, nothing.

Hey it's hot in here.

Hello everyone.

Thank you.

I'm against everything that's happening.

On October 7th, I said to myself

"no, no, no".

No, it's not possible.

It can't be real.

I reject despair,

frustration, and ugliness.

When I decided to make a film

during the w*r,

I chose people like me.

I chose you.

And what if we sang a song

dedicated to love and hope?

Shall we?

Tomorrow we will forget the crises.

They will pass...

and we will see beautiful smiles again.

Tomorrow, we will forget the crises,

they will pass...

and we will see beautiful smiles again.

Forget and try to stay calm.

It's certain,

the happy days will return.

Leave what's passed behind you.

Ahead of you, beautiful days

and beautiful years await.

Amidst the greatest crises,

we are all with you.

Pursue your dreams and build Palestine.

Tomorrow, we will forget the crises,

they will pass...

and we will see beautiful smiles again.

Forget and try to stay calm.

It's certain,

the happy days will return.

In fact, I say no to all this despair.

If we're not convinced

to say no to all of this...

As long as you have the power to say no,

then you can have hope.

If you don't insist,

deep inside you

on saying no,

even with those close to you,

It will be impossible.

I say no in order to be able

to keep giving and to continue.

In certain situations,

the children are sad. Why?

That becomes my responsibility.

When I play or sing, it makes them happy.

So I do it.

Look how eager the children are.

They're waiting for the whistle.

We want to laugh, rejoice,

sing and express our emotions.

Yes, there are bombings

and destruction

and many other things

that take us back to zero.

But that only increases

our challenge to overcome.

Our ambition was

as big as the world.

With great ambition, we dreamed,

worked hard and planned.

Now my ambition is

to find a safe place to sleep.

I've put my family and

my sisters in a safe place.

Relax, oh sea.

We've been absent for a long time.

Send my regards

to Gaza, who raised us.

Rhaff, what would you say "No" to?

No to injustice,

No to violence,

No to the violation of human rights

No! To everything that goes against

humanity, joy, life...

against our smiles...

the smiles of our children

our dreams.

No to everything that destroys our hopes

No to everything that destroys us.

FARAH AND MYRIAM

WISSAM MOUSSA

My cousin died. His name was Yehya.

Everyone was shocked.

It was night-time.

They went to bury him at 10 p.m.,

it was very late.

When we heard about his death,

we were all in shock.

I was trapped under

the rubble for 6 hours.

I was calling for my brothers

and my mother.

I wanted my brothers and my mother.

I was shouting "Help us, Help us".

Voices were asking if

there were any survivors.

I shouted:

Yes, I am Myriam, help me!.

So the civil defense

were able to locate me in my room.

They pulled me out after 6 hours.

My room was here,

and that was my parents room.

And my brothers room was over there.

That was the kitchen, and that's

the remains of the terrace...

That's the bed from your room.

Look, there.

Yes, that's where

they pulled me out from.

I am very afraid of the night.

Night means bombings...

All those who died as martyrs,

my friends and family.

We got the news of their deaths at night.

So, when night comes,

its a nightmare.

The night scares me. I dont' like it.

I dont want to lose anyone else.

Whenever the sun goes down

and the moon comes out, I lose somebody.

I was tidying my wardrobe when suddenly

the rubble of the house fell on me.

I was scared for my mother

and my whole family.

When they pulled me out,

I learned that my mother was dead.

So were my sisters.

I'm still terrified.

My aunt is still under the rubble.

The noise of the rockets makes

an unbearable pressure inside my ears.

The sound of the rockets is very close.

When they are sh**ting, I feel it inside

my ears and it hurts a lot.

I have many good memories

of my life in this house,

of going to school and coming back home.

Mum used to take care of me,

help me with my homework,

and give me advice...

I miss her a lot.

I also miss my sister,

terribly.

My grandfather, my aunt, family members...

In total 24 people died in the building...

I often wish that this w*r would stop.

Our mental health is ruined.

We cannot live with this w*r any longer.

I have no news of my school friends.

Are they alive or dead?

Do they live in tents or houses?

I dont know.

I am exhausted..

I have lived through difficult days.

I cant go on living like this...

\Ne are so tired.

FRAGMENTS

BASEL EL MAQOUSI

OUT OF FRAME

NEDA'A ABU HASNA

These are the sketches from my project.

This project was my hope

of being recognized at university,

but they blew up the university

about two weeks ago.

Now I don't have any project left

anywhere

in the workshop, at university,

or anywhere.

This is the following version

of the sketch from my graduation project

but the expl*si*n blew all that away,

from here to over there.

In Gaza, the only horizon we have

is the sea.

And it's lucky that the sea exists.

Without it, I don't know

what would become of us.

I managed to capture the waves,

the waves of the sea of Gaza.

But it's been about five months

since I last saw it.

Now I'm afraid to go there.

This one is called "Living Peace".

It represents a dove.

Because every time we saw

a white dove,

it gave us hope.

I covered them with pearls,

to express serenity.

Serenity comes from peace,

the dove calls for peace.

But there is no more peace.

And anyway, there's no more

possibility of a culture of peace.

The peace we have now

is a murderous peace.

I was taking a risk with this one

with this idea of shards of mirror

covering the form.

I was afraid this work

would be misunderstood,

or that it might even be attacked,

but on the contrary, people liked it

and it attracted a lot of attention.

This is a wide view of the city of Gaza

We often imagined Gaza from afar.

We imagined its beauty.

But if you look more closely at Gaza,

you'll see that it's

charged with history.

The details of every stone,

the old stones

the stones tell stories,

the stories of our lives.

If you focus on each stone,

you can read those stories there.

So I chose an overview of Gaza.

I was preparing

to participate in exhibitions

and even in international exhibitions

but I could never Have imagined that

everything would be destroyed like this.

Even when the w*r started,

I never imagined

that it would be like this.

But the w*r spared no one.

THERE IS STILL HOPE, RANIN!

It's strange that

hope is still here.

AWAKENING

MAHDI KREIRAH

Majd, Majd.

Where are you? Come out and play.

-Mum, I want to go and play with Oussama.

-Don't go too far.

Mum, I don't understand.

You say "Don't play in front of the tent,

your dad is sleeping".

"Don't go too far, I'm scared."

What can I do? Do you want me

to play on the roof of the tent?

Just don't go far.

And bring back some boxes for the fire.

Good God, they're even bombing our tents.

Where can we go?

Are you okay, son?

Are you both okay?

Ah! Aren't you Seham? My wife?

Did you call me Seham? Your wife?

Do you really remember me?

Do you really remember me, Khaled?

Have you come back to us, Khaled?

Why? Where have I been?

Who is this boy?

This is your son Majd.

I was pregnant during the 2014 w*r.

An expl*si*n made you lose your memory.

For we Palestinians,

that is how it goes.

One expl*si*n makes us leave

and another makes us return.

The expl*si*n just now has woken you up.

The 2014 w*r?

But what year is it now?

Why are we in a tent?

Are we camping on the beach?

We have traveled a long way, it's true

but not to the beach.

We have taken refuge in Khan Younis.

Are you my son?

Can this be possible?

I closed my eyes

and when I open them again

I learn that I have a son

as beautiful as you?

Have I awoken in the future

or in the past?

Wasn't the Nakba in 1948?

Or has the order of

numbers changed too?

Listen to me, Dad.

Oh, I love to hear that word... "Dad".

But I still have to get used to it.

This w*r is not like all the others.

This time there is nothing left.

They have destroyed everything.

Everything is gone.

Good Allah... Good Allah...

Everything is gone?

Tell me..

What else?

Mum took us and we fled to Khan Younis.

Everyone in the city was displaced.

And the Arabs? And the Muslims?

What is everyone doing?

I told you, Khaled,

everything is gone.

It's as if the earth ceased to exist.

Everyone is just watching.

Everything is gone.

It looks like there is no one left.

Everything is gone.

If everything is gone,

then lets go

back to where I was.

Where do you want to take us, Dad?

To a safe place?

I am dying of fear.

Let's all lose our memories.

And forget everything.

No Khaled, we will never forget.

The safest thing is to stay together.

You know Seham, you are

the only one I never forgot.

Every time I see you

I feel like my heart is

going to explode.

Dad...

Every day, the siege

Every day, we sing

They destroy and we rebuild

We are peaceful lovers' of flowers

and of the music of the rabab

The child slowly learns to write

We are the tide that has returned to

raise up love and to raise the boats

We are the sun that shines

and illuminates the planets

Every day, the siege

Every day, we sing

They destroy and we rebuild