“I want to leave all my problems behind and keep living my life in the sea.” A review of ‘Born in Gaza’
The Palestine - Gaza Protest 2014 attributed to Wikimedia Commons.
Topic note: Upsetting Content.
Filmed shortly after the 2014 Gaza War, this documentary introduces us to 10 Palestinian children whose lives have been transformed by the conflict. Every word spoken by each child rings in the ear, the ring resounding louder and louder each time another child speaks the same message. The vivid immediacy of the film does not give it room to be subtle; this works to reflect the clear-cut view of the children upon their situation, with one young boy - Hamada - saying, ‘I am like any other child. This is not life for us’.
Sombre music and the sound of lapping waves open the film, a shaky camera positioning us in the sea as we watch the waves crash onto us. As the music intensifies, so does the pace at which the waves come crashing, plunging us underwater again before we are given the chance to catch our breaths. Wave after wave, the camera is thrust underwater until it finally emerges to show the scene of Gaza in its aftermath of conflict. We, as the audience, are positioned to empathise with the children’s vulnerability, insecurity and state of survival from the very opening of the film.
There are three scenes which I think define this documentary. One is of Udai standing amongst the ruins of what used to be his home, pointing at the physical destruction of safety and security. Another is of 6-year-old Bisan drawing the lost family she does not speak of in daylight. But in the quiet shades of the candlelight, she points to each figure in the drawing, ‘mom, dad, and my brother.’ Then there is the last scene of the documentary where we see Mohamed swimming at the beach. He floats alone in the sea as the currents rush past him. Having quit school to work in order to save his family from starvation, he no longer is the young boy his appearance would suggest - he has assumed the work and thus character of a man. But as he swims in the blue sea he voices his wish to ‘leave all my problems behind and keep living my life in the sea.’
The absence of politics in this documentary allows the viewer to understand the scale of destruction that has been inflicted upon the lives of the children with absolute clarity. Like the children, the documentary is not interested in the politics of the conflict. The only thing they emphasise to be of importance is the need for lasting peace.
The documentary hints at the subtle ways in which the violence has shaped the narratives of the children. Mahmud, whose family farm has been destroyed by diggers for the 11th time, narrates over a shot in which he is seen propping up an unexploded missile, ‘I often think about our situation and I never see an end.’ It makes the viewer realise the question of how hope can survive, or indeed exist, amongst a generation that has not been given the chance to know that a light exists at the end of the tunnel. Rajaf says in an intimate interview, ‘This [conflict] has seriously determined our future for the wrong’. The collective ‘our’ is a reference to his brother and sister who have both given up their academic studies despite their great aptitude. The pervading tone of resignation is reinforced towards the end when we meet Malak who has returned home after the conflict, yet who does not celebrate this return. ‘It is the same old story every one or two years’, she says.
The director, Hernàn Zin, was moved to film this documentary after seeing the footage of Montasem, Hamada and their cousins running on the beach where they were playing soccer as missiles struck the sand around them. Behind the camera, a man can be heard yelling in distress, ‘They are just children!’. As Zin films the 4 surviving children (out of the 8 who had been playing soccer that day) on the beach where they were attacked, the children ask: ‘what will they do to us when we grow up?’.
In many of the children’s narrations, there is a sense of their lives being irrevocably tied to the conflicts which have invaded their childhood. Indeed one of the key messages that the documentary emphasises is the immeasurable psychological trauma that the Palestinian youth are left to struggle with long after the violence itself has ceased. Through intimate interviews, the documentary shows how the horrors of the past parasitically survive in the minds of the children. Rajaf - whose dad was bombed whilst saving lives in an ambulance - describes how his little brother is haunted by a spirit, waking up in the middle of the night to stand in front of a photo of their father, crying. We are told that Bina, who survived a bombing attack, finds it harder and harder each day to communicate as a result of her PTSD. Montasem, who saw three of his cousins being killed instantly by missiles on the beach, tells us how he cannot sleep with images of his dead friends in his mind. Not even a young teenager yet, he describes how he tried to jump off the balcony just two days before.
'I want to leave all my problems behind and keep living my life in the sea.’ says Mohamed. Mohamed’s desire to leave behind the terrors of the past, the haunting of the present and the fear of the future is one which is voiced by every child. There is a collective sentiment amongst the children of Palestine of wanting to forget the past. To be rid of the ghosts. And to be free of the chains of conflict for good. The severity of the psychological need of the children is never heard louder than when Hamada appeals on behalf of his cousin: ‘please, take him away so he can be helped. Please, help him! Help him forget what happened! He is the most affected of us. He sees dead kids’.
However, there still remains the hopeful spirit of youth. Each one of the children has dreams for the future: who they hope to be, what they hope to do and how they hope their world to be. Yet these dreams are quieted by the lasting ramifications of the conflict - there is an understanding of dreams being chained down within the prison of conflict here.
The sea that Mohamed swims in is the last scene before the credits roll. The way that his small head floats just above the large currents amongst the vast sea all alone reminds us of all that has been stripped from the children of Palestine. Their livelihood, their homes, their families and their own childhood. The way the camera’s frame is positioned gives us the feeling of being afloat in the sea with Mohamed, each current’s force reminding us of how vulnerable we are - alone against the powerful currents of the sea which may force its tide upon us as it wishes.
This is a documentary which presents how ruination of a nation in conflict inflicts its greatest suffering upon children - children who question why they are attacked when they stand unarmed. Within the currents of the ocean, we are reminded that though their landscape is one trapped within a cycle of violence, there is also a cycle of hope that arises with each new current. The sea’s ever changing nature characterises both the instability but also the hope of the children born in Gaza.