By Hadiqah Khalil
A man dreams of the world seeing his film, but a single cinema no longer exists in Gaza. For the love of his job, he wishes there were 48 hours a day. Time has become his enemy, leaving him yearning for just 12 hours each day. He now plays a hero in his own film — a harsh reality where he is bound to survive for his wife and kids. Starting from ground zero, he begs the audience to forgive him, putting down his camera to run with the other survivors. Cinema, forgive Ahmed Hassouna.
From Ground Zero showcased 22 short films made by filmmakers in Gaza and premiered at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF).
Through powerful sentiments and artwork, I saw three-minute glimpses into the lives of filmmakers who yearn to have their stories heard. While their hands may not physically reach us from Gaza, their talent can leave an indelible mark from the beauty of cinema.
“I go to bed early because I feel like the darkness will start again.”
Farah Al Zaria
We go to bed holding our stuffed animals, but these children sleep with the taste of smoke in their lungs and the weight of air in between their palms. They no longer have a place to call home. The image of children using their hands to create finger puppets while reenacting their trauma is a heartbreaking story that has been etched in my mind.
How absurd is it that these children, under the weight of war, are compelled to perform puppet shows of violence and suffering. The contrast of the soft felt fabric and strings they use to roleplay scenes of their own families being bombed by gunfire, to how the children we know curl their fingers around plush toys, no strings attached, holding them tightly as they sleep beneath the safety of a roof.
Our mothers tuck us in, perhaps reading a story before bed, while their mothers write their names in black ink on their skin every night, just in case they do not survive and can be identified. The children said that they do not want their names written on their arms as they fear that they will be bombed into pieces.
“I miss my appearance and femininity. Now look what I’ve become.”
Reema Mahmoud
“I believe in cinema and believe cinema can make change,” said director Rashid Masharwai as the screening came to an end. Viewers witnessed his living testament as a Palestinian who has lost both his home and his family. “The pain is mine. I am going for hope and for tomorrow. If there is no hope, I will invent it.”
The captivating lens of cinema allows us to see and feel what those far from us suffer with. Though they may be unreachable, their stories are nearer than we imagine.
“I write this letter to reach the world. Believe me, I had a beautiful life in this beautiful city. My advice to you is to enjoy life. War is ugly.”
[Unknown Director] From Ground Zero.
Road to Riadh
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