 Hello. Hello. How's it going? Hi, everyone. Wow. Thank you so much for being here. I was just talking to Liz Morgan, my co-worker from the Theatre of the Oppressed NYC about how we were originally going to host this event at the TOMYC office, which has a maximum capacity of 25 people. I was so worried about filling that room. So I'm so grateful that the People's Forum agreed to host us here so we could have so many more folks in the room and on our livestream as well. So a little bit about me. My name is Max. My pronouns are he, him. I am the director of communications at Theatre of the Oppressed NYC. This event has come together with the help of many, many people, many of whom are in the room tonight, Radical Evolution. I want to thank friends of AASHTAR NYC, AASHTAR themselves, of course, and the People's Forum for helping us out, as well as the Palestinian youth movement who can't be here tonight because they're hosting a vigil in Columbus Circle but have sent along some remarks for us to read. I don't have much prepared to say here. Other than thank you so much for coming. This event has come together in like two and a half weeks and I just want to recognize how amazing it is that all of you decided to be here in person tonight. You could have been doing anything else but you decided to come here. I think that really speaks to the power of theater and art and mobilization and people uniting around a common cause. So I want all of us tonight, as we experience this event, to think about how powerful each of us is in our own way to organize an event like this on such short notice and mobilize this many people to come out for it. I mean, I wonder what we could do in another two and a half weeks or in a month or in a few months or in a year. I think all of us has immense potential to mobilize so many more folks around this cause given how quickly this came together with just a handful of folks taking the initiative. So there's one poem I want to share before I pass it off to our next speaker. This is, you've probably heard it before. We lived happily during the war. This poem is by Ilya Kaminsky. We lived happily during the war and when they bombed other people's houses, we protested but not enough. We opposed them but not enough. I was in my bed, around my bed, America was falling invisible house by invisible house. I took a chair outside and watched the sun. In the sixth month of a disastrous rain in the house of money, in the streets of money, in the city of money, in the country of money, our great country of money, we forgive us, lived happily during the war. Thank you again for coming out tonight. I'm going to pass it off now to Opala Nyetet. I'm so sorry for our land acknowledgment. I am Opala Nyetet, also known as Little Eagle and Ryan Pierce. I'm a member of the Nanacoke Lenny Lenape Tribal Nation of New Jersey and we are part of the larger Lenape diaspora, which includes the current island we are all standing and sitting on now, Manahata, also known as New York City. My nation is one of the first nations of contact with Europeans and one of the longest continuous democracies on earth. This land belongs to the creator, yet it was given to the Lenape to be stewards of. This was, it continues to be, our land to look after as the many nations of the Lenape are still here. And while the Lenape have always welcomed people from all over the world to our shores, that invitation comes with the responsibility to treat everyone and everything on this land with respect. And I also want to say that, I mean, as a Lenape, I've been privileged to give land acknowledgments over the past, over the past few years. But I must say none is more pertinent to what Atlantic acknowledgement should be and the purpose of it than what we're doing right now. And I just want to tell just a real quick little story. Four years ago when I started writing the play about my tribal nation and how the state of New Jersey was treating us in the last decade, not one theater in and around New York City on the traditional lands of Lenape or on Turtle Island, North America would touch that play, not one. The only one that would, that took an interest, developed it and gave it a first full production was a theater in Ramallah, Ashtar Theater. So, yes, under the artistic direction of Iman Na'oon. So, Wanishi, thank you for this. And I look forward to the event. Thank you. Thank you so much. My name is Liz Morgan. She, her, I work at Theater for the Oppressed NYC and I'm just here to read a short statement from Palestinian youth movement, New York City. We so wish we could be with you today to participate in the readings of the Gaza monologues. We are planning a vigil for the martyrs of the current genocidal campaign against Gaza at Columbus Circle this evening. But we know that the confluence of events and programs and protests across this city and country are having a direct impact on discursive support for Zionism, are draining mass amounts of city and state resources and remain a necessary front in the struggle against Zionism and Western imperialism. Events like these are essential because they help to highlight the various elements of our struggle from martyrdom to imprisonment to siege and dispossession, particularly to the Arabs living here in the far diaspora who confront a Zionist project that attempts to disconnect and fragment the political Palestinian idea. Arabs have long understood the entanglements between our political commitments and our culture and have produced great works of theater, performance and dance, and dance as a means of revolutionary pedagogy, as a way of capturing energies and relating community knowledge and practice. From Jebra Ibrahim Jebra, Tegassan Kanafani, Tessadallah Juanus, revolutionary texts are given new life through decentralized networks of performance and assembly. We wish all the readers and attendees good luck in today's event. The Palestinian youth movement is the largest grassroots movement of Arab and Palestinian youth in the diaspora. If you would like to get involved with PYM or its national shutdown campaign, please reach out to one of the organizers of this event or visit the website, shut it down, the number four, Palestine.org. For our part, we will continue to organize with our communities, workplaces, labor and student formations, and in the streets until liberation and return are achieved in Palestine. Thank you. Hi, my name is Layla Buck. Welcome. I'm a writer, performer and educator, and since 2011, I've had the privilege of spending time living and working in Palestine and witnessing the work of Ashtar Theater there. The welcome that I received from Iman and the whole company at Ashtar made me feel that I had a theatrical home and community in Palestine. I quickly learned that this was not unique to me. Their doors are always open to students, artists, international visitors, activists, family members and friends. Ashtar is a company that is equally committed to creating powerful work that pushes artistic and political boundaries, supporting artists in developing to their fullest potential and engaging with and nurturing community as an integral part of every step of their process. It is so clear when you enter Ashtar that this is a company connected to, woven with and reflective of its community and not just one small privileged sliver of its community, but a broad and deep spectrum of ages, gender identities, religions, socioeconomic classes, urban, rural areas and everything in between. One of their forum theater shows that I experienced while there, the House of Yasmine, used Yasmine, a newly incapacitated patient, as a character who embodied the state of Palestine and its relationship to international aid. The piece was absurdist, experimental, theatrical, funny. It engaged the audience throughout around when to seek and accept help, when that life support is helping versus hurting us and how we make choices not just to survive, but to thrive. The other piece I experienced while in Palestine, The Right and the Bracelet was produced in partnership with Dan Church Aid and the YMCA in Ramallah through the fund from the European Union to support women in fighting for their legal right to inheritance given to them under Islamic law. Directed by Bayan Shabib, this forum theater piece engaged the audience throughout in questions of how to claim their rightful inheritance in the face of the social and cultural norms, leaders and institutions that often attempt to deny us our legal rights. A dilemma that is faced by women all over the world, including here. The performance I attended was standing room only, filled to capacity with young women from universities and high schools from all over the West Bank, thanks to Ashtar's strong commitment to engaging and developing artists and youth from all over Palestine. I have jokered, performed in and participated in various forms of theater of the oppressed and formed theater over the years, and I have never experienced the level of engagement of investment between company and community that I have through the work of Ashtar. I hope that tonight as we hear from Iman Aoun, artistic director of Ashtar, Ali Abu Yasin, director of the Gaza monologues and the youth who created these monologues with them, we will carry that same spirit of openness and welcome of community connection and collaboration as we reflect on how to support Palestinian youth, adults, artists and communities here, there and everywhere in this critical time and always. I also want to note that in this moment, I would like us to think of solidarity with the Freedom Theater of Janine as well. Janine is one of the places most impacted by the occupation on a daily basis and that has intensified enormously since the attacks of October 7th. They are under constant siege by the Israeli army as we speak, members of the theater have been arrested, attacked and killed. The theater and its community are being terrorized at a level that is beyond words. I ask us to keep the people of Janine and the Freedom Theater in our hearts tonight as well and to include them in our discussion of how we can support our friends, our colleagues, their families, their loved ones and communities in this time. And now I'd like to introduce, without further ado, a video from Iman Aoun, executive director of Ashtar Theater and creator of the Gaza monologues and a video from Ali Abu Yasin, theater director in Gaza. Hello old and new friends of Ashtar Theater and Palestine. I would like to thank you all for being with us on this call. I am Iman Aoun, co-founder of Ashtar Theater, creator of the Gaza monologues. When we did the Gaza monologues back in 2010, we thought that that would be the first and last war on our people in Gaza. But alas, it did not work out. Therefore, there was another war and another and another and it continued on and on and on for the last 17 years. At the moment, with all that you have seen in the media and all that you have done in your countries, in your cities, still nothing on the ground has been changed. We, as a small company in Palestine, we're trying to keep the voice of the people of Palestine and of the people of Gaza heard. And therefore, we are calling upon you that these monologues, they do not only go into your hearts and minds, but that these monologues will become a pave way for a real change, a real pressure on your governments to take action, action that will bring justice and long lasting solution for a sovereign state for Palestine, that the world will all agree to have and will all recognize the state of Palestine. Because through peace and with peace, we can all live as regular people. Thank you. Thank you for being with us on this call. And we are all together to save our humanity. And now, the Gaza monologues. We are all together to save our humanity. And when the war started, people left their homes because they had to eat the bread and we wanted to go back to my sister's home because there was a safe place for us. And after we spent time with her, we agreed and we said, you go back and I will go back. How do we go back and leave? My mother left the bread at home and you know how much the bread was in the war. And when we reached my sister's home, she called me and told him, Salman, we forgot the bread. We got it and Salman really stood up and brought the bread and we didn't let him go out. The next morning, we were sent to a bus stop on the street. We all cried and cried and we were sent down from the bus stop. And the truck was full of our father's sins. We all said, you stay in our house, it's better for us. You can't carry someone else's house. Take your words. And what's more important is that the community and the house next to it is my sister's house. This is not from the kitchen. And what's left of you is what my father did for us. We went back to the house immediately. He didn't have the right to talk to us, but they told us that the house next to our house in the neighborhood is a bus stop. And our house's face was exposed. It was her time for the first time. We all went out to her father. We went out to sit down on my sister's house. It became clear to us where we weren't in Gaza in the war. We're not safe. After the war, we always wore clean clothes and put them on at the end so that if I die, my death will be beautiful. But it would be a big problem if they beat me up because I'm going to have 100 deaths and I want to die alone. I want to die alone. Oh, peace on Gaza and the dreams of Gaza. It's been a dream to die a beautiful death. I don't want to live a beautiful life. Thank you. I was born 1996 in Al-Shuja-Yiye. I want to be a specialist in the science of metaphysics. What is behind nature? You know why? Because I think that Gaza itself is behind nature and I got so much from my presence here in Gaza that I'd like to transfer my skill to others. The Shuja-Yiye camp is always the center of events. Each time the occupation wants to invade Gaza, they pass by our house. When the war began, people left their houses thinking that Shuja-Yiye would be hit. It's normal in this case to leave our house. Everyone was calling my dad to convince him to leave the house. My brothers from Algeria, my uncles from the states, my uncles from Ankara. The whole world was begging my dad and he wouldn't budge, refusing to leave the Shuja-Yiye. Three days with my mom having packed the house stuff and we were suspended in travel mode. We want to go to my sister's house because it's safer there. After we were exhausted from talking, he agreed and said, You go, I'll follow. How can we go and leave him? My mom was smart. She left the bread at home, so you know how dear bread was when the war. As soon as we got to my sister's house, she called him and said, Brought the bread, bring it for us. And Solomon fell in the trap and brought the bread and we wouldn't let him leave. The next morning we woke up to a phosphorus bomb that fumed the street. We all started crying, our tears falling because of the phosphorus. The bomb was easier on us than dad's taunting. He said, I told you, let's stay home. It's better for us. There's no place like home. And on it went. What added fuel to the fire is that the mosque and the house next to my sister's house were destroyed in the bombing. And you can imagine what my dad did to us. He wanted to take us back home immediately. No sooner had he finished his words than we were told that the house next to ours in Shujaia was bombed and the front of our house ripped off. Then for the first time, all of us looked at dad. We stayed at my sister's place. It became clear to us that wherever we were in Gaza, in the war, we were not safe. After the war, I always started to dress in a very clean and tidy way so that if I die, I would die a nice death. But it would be the biggest problem if I was hit by a rocket because I'd become a hundred pieces. And I'd like to die in one piece. Gaza. And Gaza's dreams. Our dream has become to die a good death, not live a good life. I'll be reading monologue number nine. Written by Tamir Najem. Born in 1993. From Asheikh Radwan. This is translated by Fideh Judius. Gaza is a matchbox and we are the matches inside of it. When the war started on Gaza, all the media was focused on us. Al-Jazeera, Al-Arabiya and all the satellite channels were focused on Gaza and the occupation wouldn't leave us alone. The whole world became busy with Gaza and what's happening in it. Suddenly, Al-Jazeera wrote breaking news, death of Muhammad Al-Hindi. And it wasn't normal because that Muhammad, he's my uncle, my mother's brother. It was the first time I see the screaming move from live broadcast on TV to the house. Screaming and yelling and tears, all of it mixed up together and it moved from our house to the street and my mom fainted. A while later the phone rang. It was my second uncle calling to tell us that Muhammad was martyred. He didn't know that the whole world knew the news. This television is awful. Before a person is shot, as the bullet is on its way to his chest, the television has already broadcasted the news. But these days, the channels are sitting idle, praying to God to send another war to Gaza so they have work. Anyway, we started crying bitterly for my uncle and remembering him and talking about him. We kept talking about him for a long time. Then it started getting less because death became normal in Gaza. After the war, I stopped caring whether I live or die. After what we saw in the war, I don't care about anything because I think each day I live is the biggest bonus. And all the life I live after the war is extra because I could have died at any second. You know, I'm sick of the city even though I love it. And I'm sick of the people too. Sometimes I feel that I know the million and a half who are in Gaza. There's nothing new. The same day is repeated every day. I feel like traveling, like changing scene and faces. As soon as I wake up every morning, I see the electricity pole in my face. I wish I'd wake up one day and not find it there. Each day, Abu Ibrahim stands at the door of the supermarket. And Abed, the bean seller, is selling his beans. And Abu El Abed is sitting at the door of his house, afraid that his house would run away. Um Ibrahim is standing with Um Hassan. I know the taxi drivers one by one. I know who takes you to the city and who goes to the beach. It's soul draining. The only hour that's different in my life is the one when I come to theater practice. It became my work and mission. I wait for it impatiently. Without the theater I would have gone crazy. When I grow up I want to be a big actor. I loved acting since I was a kid. But any institution that I used to go to when I was a kid would throw me out a few days later. This time it's different. I will be reading monologue number six. By Amjad Abu Yasin. They were born in 1993. And they are from the Ashate camp. And this was translated by Fidha Jiris. A day before the war, Gaza for me was joy and happiness. Trips and going to the sea. Life seemed to be happy. And I wasn't thinking about anything. I had one dream that Gaza would develop in art and sports. I felt that everything was fine except these two things. But it turned out nothing was fine. No art, sports, health or safety. It's all the same. Gaza stopped being the city of my dreams because my dream is to be an actor. Am I going to be an actor for 20 people in Gaza? And wait till the border opens. If it was in my hands, I would try as much as possible to reduce wars, death and violence. It's a shame for every drop of blood that falls on the ground. I hate the silence and the abnormal tolerance that people have. I wish all Gaza would wake up tomorrow and walk the streets shouting loudly enough. When the war started, we were playing football and the atmosphere was strange. The sky was red. Suddenly we heard the sound of a plane. I never heard a sound like that. We were all scared and lay on the ground waiting for death. After that we heard the sound of a loud explosion meters away from us. We started looking in each other's faces and silently saying goodbye. Turned out the bombing wasn't meant for us. It was targeting a car of wanted men on the road above. But we kept lying, waiting for the second rocket. And all I could think of was my two older brothers who were with me. I was more afraid for them than for myself. And I think they also felt the same way. I carried my sports shorts and ran away from the field. As I ran, I stepped on a piece of shrapnel. I took it out of my leg and went out onto the street and saw them. They were three martyrs and you couldn't make out their features. The first ones legs were on fire. He was looking at me and I at him. Among everyone there, he was warning me about something I didn't understand. It was then I saw he was warning me about a car coming fast towards us. Then I knew the real meaning of death. And instead of there being three martyrs, there could have been four. I was shocked at the scene. I stood there watching and when I woke up after passing out, I ran home. The war came and went and we're still living it. The victims are always the poor people who have nothing to do with anything. Even when there's an earthquake or a flood in any country, the victims are the poor people as though there's a universal conspiracy against them. After the war, everyone started lying to everyone else. Lies, cheating, dishonesty, deceitfulness. For positions and interest, the leaders and powerful people commit slaughters and crimes without batting an eyelid or feeling any guilt. Poor people get poorer and sick once sicker. I've lost trust in all mottos. The biggest speech from the biggest leader is bullshit. All speeches in the world don't warm up a cold person or someone sleeping in a tent after the war. The crisis is that the whole world is watching us as though there's nothing going on and they're still making speeches. I don't want to be like them because they're in the West. Their dreams are planted in other countries and dreams grow with people and the country. I love life, I love playing and I love people. I want to be the president of Palestine for a single day. I want to strengthen love and peace between people. I want to be the leader of the people and the people. I want to be the leader of the people and the people. I want to be the leader of the people. This was one of the first major decisions. Unfortunately, I'm not the president, and that's why there's a war. We had a war in a stormy country. We left school scared to death. I was afraid of the experience. Because the whole world experiences in the streets who is looking for their son, who is looking for his sister, who is looking for his mother. All people experienced it. They raised their heads to the sky. Honestly, it was a strange sight. I saw one of them, wearing pajamas, a scarf, and I experienced it. The first time I saw it, I didn't know it. But when I saw it, I thought, what is it? It's my aunt's disease. It's a disease that doesn't come out of the house, unless it's at the end of the day. When I saw it, I made sure that the war was over. More than a year has passed and we are in the course of the war. We lived it, and we live it every day in detail. Because the TV, the phone, and the doorbell are all the things that keep me from fighting and I don't like them. Do you know? Even his phone rang. And the most thing I'm afraid of is the loneliness. I think, what will I do if I fight for myself? Who will protect me? And when I'm with my family, I think, how will I protect them? I had a big dream. That I will become an example. But that dream became less and less. Because the view of people as an example in my country is not positive. Although the important representation makes me change the image of the meaning of my country and the society of the world. I have a second dream if it's not the first one. That I will be a journalist. And the third dream is that I will create a family. I love them and they love me. And the fourth one is that I will be free and the Palestinian world will be free in all the countries of the world. And the fifth one is that I will see the world happy, no death, no destruction, no harm, no wars. And the sixth and the last one is that I will finish this monologue I am reading monologue 12 When I was young, I used to feel that I was the happiest child in the world. But the more I grow and my mind grows, the more my worry grows. Because I start to understand the things I did not. I started to know the meaning of a deprived child. The thing that upsets me and makes me cry the most are children's tears. All the children in the world regardless of their nationality, religion, or color. When I grow up, I want to be a pediatrician. And that's the hope that gives me a big push in life. Even though I'm fed up, I'm bored and sad because Gaza doesn't have life anymore. Yesterday I was sitting in school and I heard the sound of planes. I got really scared. I wanted to run away from school. I felt I was going to die because I remembered the war. The scenes of war won't leave my mind. On the third day of the war, my family was sitting together talking about what was happening in the war. And my grandmother was reassuring us so we wouldn't be scared. We were actually calmed even though the sound of the rockets didn't stop. My grandmother's warm voice was calming us. And then the phone rang and the lines were never caught in the war so when we heard the sound of the phone we were happy. Hello? Yes? This is the Israeli Defense Army. You have five minutes to clear the house. It's for your own benefit. You have been warned. I couldn't stand on my legs anymore. Everyone in the house started yelling. My grandmother was the first one to run away. It was the first time I'd seen her going so fast. My dad held me and my sisters and told us not to be scared. He was pulling me to leave. But I was going to die if I didn't take my teddy bear with me. I felt I had to have him and that I would betray him if I left him under the bomb. So I escaped from my dad's hands and I ran to my bear and I took him in my arms and I left. We all got far away from the house and sat down to wait for the five minutes and they were the longest five minutes in history and they became ten and we felt like they were years that passed. I was in a whirlwind. Thoughts and dreams were thrashing about in my mind and my head and the world was spinning. I felt that the dream of being a doctor was very, very far away. I held the bear and I remembered myself when I was small and how I was always laughing. I want to go back to being small. I want to stay small. I don't want to grow up but the only thing that comforted me was the love of the people who didn't leave us for a moment. Casa Casa is full of love. Monologue number four Alá Nació en 1996 en el barrio doe al shuhayé traducido por al montar. Tengo ganas de correr y correr y correr por las calles hasta que mi pañuelo vuelve en el cielo y yo vuela con él. A veces quiero estar totalmente loca pero no puedo. Es la primera vez que digo esto tal vez no son mis palabras tal vez son las palabras que no puedo expresar tal vez o tengo miedo a expresar por qué mi familia me trata así miro las chicas de mi edad como están viviendo su vida y les tengo envidia como me gustaría hacer como ellas con su libertad quiero un barco que me lleve a una isla lejana y tirarme en las orillas lejos del mundo, lejos de todo especialmente la guerra hablando de la guerra la guerra es una cosa y lo que dice mi mamá es otra ¿Por qué? mi mamá me repite las cosas que he visto es algo que nunca entenderé ella y yo estábamos de pie en el balcón cuando bombardearon la casa de nuestros vecinos uno de los vecinos murió vimos como la casa fue destruida y un cadáver que voló la calle se pueden imaginar lo que sucedió con la familia ¿Terminamos? No todavía no terminamos mamá empezó a contarme como la casa de nuestros vecinos fue bombardeada y como nuestro vecino voló de la casa como si no hubiera estado yo con ella así eran las historias de mi mamá durante toda la guerra y yo su única oyente estamos sentadas viendo la televisión y ellos dicen que el bombardeo fue en algunas zonas el reportaje dura 15 minutos pero el repetido de reportaje de mi mamá dura 2 horas ella habla sobre el reportaje como si no hubiera estado yo con ella empecé a dudar de mí misma estaba sentada con ella sí o no juro que yo estaba ahí yo estaba sentada realmente ahí con ella de todos modos gracias a Dios que mi mamá ya no está con ustedes de otra forma les habría dado dolor de cabeza con sus historias esto también es un monologo 14 escrito por Sammy Elgerrawe born 1994 Hayatafa la hora que os he pedido es el 12 de la noche cada vez que los exames empiezan siento que la guerra se empiezan no puedo responder a ninguna de las preguntas y las ideas continúan en mi cabeza hasta que estuve tan cansada que no puedo responder a ninguna de las preguntas hasta que estuve tan cansada que me pregunté ¿es lo que me pasa normal o si soy cansado las personas dicen que el desfile de Gaza arrasa todos los problemas pero mi dolor es más grande que el desfile porque la última vez que estuve en el desfile estuve con mi amigo fuimos, jugamos y... tenía divertido pero ahora no puedo ir al desfile la Tala Tini Street está cerca de la petrol station the petrol was dear to people and expensive it was a big deal to have a leader of petrol there was a war going on and people were afraid to buy anything my dad sent me to buy petrol after I bought it I went to the house of my friend Zaki who lives near the station I was missing him a lot and I hadn't seen him for more than 10 days I got to his house and I was in a hurry because my dad wanted me to return quickly with the petrol I went inside their house without knocking the door his mom considers me like her son and me too I said hello to her and to my friend hugged him and kissed him said hello to his brothers and quickly left when there were 20 meters between me and their house I heard the sound the loud sound of a plane and after that the sound of a rocket falling on my friend's house people started screaming that the house was bombed I couldn't believe it I looked back at my friend's house and saw fire and smoke coming out of it I'd never seen anything like that I went back running to our house when I got there my dad told me your friend died no he didn't everyone started telling me your friend Zaki died and I didn't believe them that's why I didn't go to the funeral hospital or the cemetery because Zaki did not die I always talked to him at night well not exactly him to his photo I'm very upset with him because he doesn't come visit me and I also stopped visiting him at home I'm sure he's not dead and for sure there will come a day when we meet then I'll blame him because I miss him so much I have another friend living in Russia he always tells me about Russia and the freedom and safety that he lives in I feel that I'm not living I start wishing that I would dive in the sea and keep diving and diving till I come out and find myself in Russia this is monologue 29 Yasmin Jaror born in 1996 al-Daraj translated from Arabic our future in Gaza is obscure and unknown like a calm volcano that can erupt at any second as if we're on a boat without a captain in the midst of a raging sea we go right and left and no one knows where to lean I hear that in other countries childhood is sacred and children live their lives without problems or fear but Gaza's children are forgotten and outside the picture they're the ones who feel the injustice the most because society treats them like they're not kids when it wants it makes them adults and when it wants it returns them to being children and most people deal with them like their only bodies not minds when I see a child peddling in the street or working in a shop I imagine how the children of the world are playing resting and feeling safe honestly my heart breaks for them and sometimes I cry Gaza has no tenderness and no childhood a boy is born a man here and a girl is born a bride dad before the war was a lot more tender with me I wish he would take me in his arms like before but God help him he's probably worried too because in the war we lost five donems of land in a second the field that 60 years old was hit by a rocket from the Israeli army which burned all the oranges in it my father my brother and myself could have also died by that rocket because we were close to the window if dad hadn't thrown me on the ground all the shrapnel would have hit me after the war I visited Rafa crossing and I saw the flags of Palestine and Egypt next to each other yet separated by a wire I felt the difference between the two flags and that this wire is the border of this big prison that we live in I felt how stupid and unjust is the world and I felt like breaking all borders and ending all differences between races and religions so that everyone in the world would be brothers my dream became to live in a safe country even in a small village in a distant island at the end of the world the story goes to the bathroom six and a half hours in the room and six and a half in the bathroom my family came back at ten and a half in the night and slept for a long time I didn't know I was in a hurry and my friend wrote me a letter suddenly I heard a loud explosion I went to my family's room and I took the radio to hear the news my father's health I told him I heard a loud explosion he said calm down and go to sleep this is a disaster I went back to my house and the electricity was cut off suddenly the blow became strong and the world was shaking I held my weapon and covered my face I didn't stand on it I raised my weapon I was standing on it and the weapon was full of glass and the whole house was black on that day they cut off the work that was next to us but not this it's the matter the matter is the terrible things that happened there is no explanation the first thing the world is shaking and we all feel that we want to die and the sixth thing is that we are struggling to fix our teeth I'm afraid when you die people will know that you don't have teeth I mean they don't know the second thing the house is full of smoke and my father is shaking he said we are shaking the third thing my uncle called us my father said thank God we are fine but the whole house was broken with one person my uncle said break and my father broke the glass I don't know why I'm telling this story because I know that we are living in a prison in a prison like the famous prisoners they want to get out but they are trapped children are dying in front of their mother's eyes they cry their hearts out and shout out loud but no one heard no human no one cared before the war I used to feel that Gaza was my second mother its ground was the warm chest I could lay on and its sky was my dreams without limits the sea would wash away my worries but today I feel it's an exile feeling it's the city of my dreams in the war the main electricity pole was hit by a huge rocket all my uncles were at home with us and electricity went out but there was another line working near the house I went to our neighbor and asked him for an extension so we could connect to the second line once we were connected and our house was lit he came to take the extension back we had a huge fight in war everyone thinks about themselves during the war a lot of people had 20 bags of flour and never had a shortage of gas while others didn't have a piece of bread they were asking their neighbors for bread and they wouldn't give them any most people locked up their things under lock and key and decided not to give anything to anyone but others were good and helpful back back to our topic we didn't agree to return the connection to him even though it was his extension and we were using and for the first time I realized how bad we can be we were punished on the spot the house next to ours was bombed and split into two pieces and half of it fell on us we left the connection and electricity and everything and ran away to my uncle's house next to the municipal park my uncle's house is close to a government building and in the evening people started saying that building would be bombed and if it was bombed my uncle's house might disappear from existence we sat there not knowing what to do or where to go my dad kept reassuring us don't worry don't be scared nothing will happen we stayed like that till midnight and we kept hearing rockets and explosions and my dad kept saying don't worry don't be scared but suddenly he said follow me we're going back home and he started shaking and all of us started shaking with him my mom started screaming and my uncle wasn't really bad shape anyway all of us ran away in the middle of the night with my uncle's family we ran home couldn't believe it when we got home till today I don't remember where we slept or how the important thing was that we were away from that building we found that our neighbor had taken electricity connection and we spent the night in darkness while his house was lit I felt he was right to take his connection back and my dad got a connection complex he bought 3 electric cables and 6 gas bottles 2 electric pans 20 neon lights 20 packs of candles 6 packs of cans 6 flashlights and 2 boxes of batteries we're living in a war and we have to be careful till things get better I got a complex worse than all others it's as though I was generous or maybe I didn't know the value of things but because I couldn't believe that there would be a day when I wouldn't find a drink of water or a piece of bread but after the war I became super careful with everything and anything I started barely sweetening my tea and if I broke a loaf of bread I wasn't allowed to finish it I lost my appetite for food and became really economical my dad says oh come on always has his pocket money of course because I take it and save it in case there's another war I feel like I'm married with 10 kids I'm scared of life, of everything of the smallest things always always worried I feel that all of Gaza is sitting on moving sands any madness you can imagine for a second in this place and a lot of my dreams make them true too it's a strange city with no logic but China is now a third of the world and they all work but can barely make enough shoes and shirts for Gaza Gaza consumes everything and the world attacks it but it keeps pretending nothing is wrong actually Gaza is full of poverty and there are people who pick their food from the garbage the tragedy is that things keep getting worse and the biggest tragedy is that there's nothing to stop that happening every pit has a bottom except Gaza I dream of living one day in freedom and I don't think that's a big dream but it's hard to come true my dream is also to end the Palestinian division which is giving us schizophrenia I'm tired of thinking but I can't stop it but we have to plea and God will provide and to you folks goodbye that was and that concludes our monologues for tonight so let's hear another round of applause for our readers that also concludes our live stream so thank you so much to the folks who tuned in before we open up the floor to the discussion portion of this event I want to call attention to a few things in your program the QR code on the front of this program it goes directly to Ashtar theater's fundraiser for their psychosocial relief intervention program in Palestine this is an amazing program provides aid to youth in Palestine it's an organization that's based in Palestine providing aid to people in Palestine so assisting a program like that giving to a program like that the importance of that cannot be overstated your money goes directly to them the monologues you just saw are not all of the monologues I think it's important to name the fact that there have been new monologues new monologues added in just the last few weeks you can see those monologues on the Gaza monologues website the link is also in your program gazonmonologues.com when we started putting this event together the monologues were available in I think nine languages and they're now available in 15 so many languages on their website that you can read these in you can put on your own event your own reading we hope that this event will inspire you to take the monologues into your life and maybe produce another presentation of them the monologues are not the only thing we're here for so I want to open up the event now to an open discussion it's going to be facilitated by Beto Obern from Radical Evolution the idea here is that while these pieces are beautiful they are meant to mobilize you into action and we want to give you this space to brainstorm ways to do that and to identify ways to do that we've listed some resources in your program but there are many many more resources available many more actions that you can take many more ways you can organize and many more organizers and activists that you can learn from so Beto I want to invite you to the stage to facilitate our discussion thank you