A PALESTINIAN THEATRE: EXPERIENCES OF RESISTANCE, SUMUD AND REAFFIRMATION

Mahmoud Abusultan

A Thesis

Submitted to the Graduate College of Bowling Green State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

May 2021

Committee:

Angela Ahlgren, Advisor

Jonathan Chambers

© 2021

Mahmoud Abusultan

All Rights Reserved iii

ABSTRACT

Angela Ahlgren, Advisor

This thesis examines Palestinian theatre practices in the West Bank, Gaza Strip, and the

Diaspora. Focusing on how theatre-makers within these contexts represent the Palestinian

experience in relation to the ongoing Israeli settler-colonialism, I seek to offer a fuller definition of Palestinian theatre and highlight its different features. As non-violent resistance is a defining

aspect of Palestinian artistic expression, I draw on a number of supporting theories to analyze

how Palestinian theatre practitioners respond to the Israeli colonial practices as well as reflect on

the ever-shifting socio-political realities of the Palestinian society.

I begin by contextualizing the work of five major theatre companies in the West Bank

and the creative tactics through which they contribute to the Palestinian culture of resistance,

building on the work of Gabriel Varghese. I then introduce the concepts of sumud (steadfastness)

and identity reaffirmation in an attempt to include theatre-makers in Gaza Strip and the

Palestinian Diaspora. Throughout, I examine a number of plays and performances in relation to

these concepts to demonstrate how Palestinians confront the conditions under which they live,

while striving to preserve their cultural heritage. In doing so, I broaden the conversation on

Palestinian theatre and the Palestinian context of non-violent resistance and what is at stake in

how it is performed. iv

I dedicate this thesis to my family for their constant love and support. v

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my supervisor, Dr. Angela Ahlgren, for her guidance throughout this process and her continual support of my work. I would also like to thank Dr. Jonathan

Chambers for being on my committee, and for his key contributions to the conceptualization of this thesis.

In addition, I would like to express the deepest appreciation to my friends, Ramadan Al-

Nirab and Mahmoud El-Belpeisi, for their kindness and words of encouragement as well as their sincere belief in this project. vi

TABLE OF CONTENTS Page

INTRODUCTION: THE QUESTION OF PALESTINIAN THEATRE ...... 1

Existing Narratives on Theatre in Palestine ...... 2

Defining Palestinian Theatre...... 7

Chapter Divisions...... 9

CHAPTER I. THEATRE OF RESISTANCE IN THE WEST BANK ...... 11

Al-Kasaba Theatre ...... 14

Ashtar Theatre ...... 18

Al-Rowwad ...... 20

Al-Harrah Theatre ...... 22

The Freedom Theatre ...... 25

Conclusion ...... 28

CHAPTER II. SPECTACLES OF SUMUD IN GAZA STRIP ...... 30

Is There Theatre in Gaza Strip? ...... 34

The Palestinian Split ...... 38

Al-Habl Al-Sori (The Umbilical Cord) ...... 39

Al-Qafas (The Cage) ...... 43

Sabe’a Ard (Seven Grounds Under) ...... 46

Conclusion ...... 50

CHAPTER III. RE-AFFIRMING THE PALESTININ EXPERIENCE ON THE DISAPORIC

STAGE: AN EXPLORATION OF TENNIS IN NABLUS AND PLAN D ...... 51

The Palestinian Experience of Diaspora ...... 51

Tennis in Nablus ...... 55 vii

Plan D ...... 60

Conclusion ...... 65

CONCLUSION ...... 67

WORKS CITED ...... 69 1

INTRODUCTION: THE QUESTION OF PALESTINIAN THEATRE

Palestinian theatre is a complex term that resists simple or easy definition. Aside from the relatively scant research on the topic, and the maddening lack of documentation, it is a cultural practice, much like the country itself, under constant questioning of its validity as well as continuous accusations of absence and non-existence. The extant scholarship mainly addresses a phenomenon in Palestinian self-representation termed Cultural Resistance.1 Focusing on performing groups in the West Bank and, very occasionally, theatre-makers in the Diaspora, scholarly attention in this vein is devoted to placing the Palestinian theatre activity within the context of Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the ways in which non-violent resistance is imagined and performed. Therefore, the examined performances usually mark a double-tiered approach to political intervention; not only do they comment on the issues of Palestinian national politics, but they also attempt to combat the hegemonic processes carried out by Israeli settler-colonialism.

This study begins with tracking the art of non-violent resistance in the West Bank, and then seeks to compare it with staging the Palestinian experience in two different contexts—Gaza

Strip and the Palestinian Diaspora. I accordingly introduce the notion of sumud (steadfastness) to help contextualize the theatrical enterprise in Gaza Strip, and in turn identity reaffirmation for those Palestinians creating theatre outside of Palestine. In an endeavor to better understand the nature of Palestinian self-representation on stage, this research project provides an overview of those three concepts—resistance, sumud and identity re-affirmation—by critically engaging with the conversation on Palestinian theatre and its definition. By and large, I ask: What would a

1 For an insightful analysis of this trend, see, for example, Salih, Ruba, and Sophie Richter- Devroe, “Culture of Resistance in Palestine And Beyond: On the Politics of Art, Aesthetics, and Affect,” The Arab Studies Journal, Spring 2014, Vol. 22, No. 1, pp. 8-27. 2

fuller definition of Palestinian theatre involve? What is the role/function of Palestinian theatre in

the West Bank, in Gaza Strip, and in the Palestinian Diaspora? And what are the stakes of

performing the Palestinian experience in each of these contexts? The goal is to offer a more

rounded view of Palestinian theatre and to expand and nuance any available definition.

After the 1948 Nakba, Palestinians were scattered across different territories inside and

outside their land. As a consequence, their cultural activity, particularly theatre, has gone through

multiple phases of disruption and revival. Therefore, one of the objectives I pursue is to provide

a review of literature and theatrical practices in relation to the Palestinian experience and a

conceptual examination of the resulting artistic re-configurations. In particular, the thesis aims at

multiple sub-objectives: to offer a brief historical overview of Palestinian theatre and its

development; to offer a review of some particular sources and characteristics of Palestinian

theatrical movement in the West Bank and Gaza Strip; to develop an intellectual map that would help navigate the Palestinian theatrical activity; and finally, to aid in the task of defining and establishing the genre of Palestinian drama. My hope is that this study proves valuable to scholars and practitioners interested in Palestinian theatre and its different aspects.

Existing Narratives on Theatre in Palestine

Most of the extant studies indicate that Palestinians did not practice Western-style theatre

until the late nineteenth century, or perhaps the early twentieth century.2 During those early days,

European missionary schools, along with visiting Arab troupes (notably Egyptian), had a

2 Some of the most referenced accounts in this regard include: Jacob Landau’s Studies in the Arab Theater and Cinema (University of Pennsylvania Press, 1958), Nasri Al-Jawzi’s Tarikh al- Masrah Al-Filastini 1918–1948 [History of Palestinian Theater 1918–1948] (Nicosia: Sharq Press, 1990), and Faysal Darraj’s entry on Palestine in The World Encyclopedia of Contemporary Theatre (London: Routledge, 1994). 3

profound influence on how Palestinians became aware of theatre. It is also often agreed that the

1920s, after the First World War and with the arrival of the British occupation, saw a significant

increase in theatrical activity in Palestine as well as the emergence of several prominent

playwrights, among them Jamil Al-Bahry, Najib Nassar, the Saliba brothers, and the Al-Jawzi

family. According to Reuven Snir in “Palestinian Theatre: Historical Development and

Contemporary Distinctive Identity,” Palestine at that time “started witnessing a cultural revival,

encouraged both by the political revival, particularly in light of the Zionist activity and the

economic revival, due to the British mandate over Palestine” (31). This revival prompted

Palestinian theatrical development to continue as multiple serious, yet unsuccessful attempts at

establishing professional theatre companies took place in the 1930s and the 1940s.3 On the nature of productions in this period, Snir asserts that modern performances were limited since many of the plays were “intended to be staged in schools or by groups of students,” which meant that “the didactic nature of this theatrical activity was dominant” (33). On top of that, Palestinian theatre during this time, Snir claims, was “not generally involved” with the political situation on the ground and the national struggle against British-Zionist colonial aspirations (33).

Following the declaration of the settler-colonial state of Israel in 1948, Palestinian society and its different communities were forcibly separated and torn apart—an event known in Arabic as Al-Nakba (the catastrophe). With the expulsion of a vast Palestinian population from their homes and the subsequent dispersion inside and outside of Palestine, the growing theatrical movement of the past three decades was crushed. Snir observes: “All that remained from the promising Palestinian theatre of the 1940s, were a very few amateur troupes, mainly within clubs

3 Snir states: “One of the first professional troupes was Firqat al-Jawzi (The al-Jawzi Troupe) established by Nasri al-Jawzi (bom 1908) in the middle of the 1930s” (32). “Palestinian Theatre: Historical Development,” Contemporary Theatre Review, 1995. 4

and schools” (“Palestinian Theatre” 34). For such reasons, the period between 1948 and 1967 is noticeably skipped in most historical accounts on Palestinian theatre. However, Snir contends that Palestinians living in Israel during those times engaged in various cultural productions, whether sponsored by the Israeli government or the leftist party—the latter opposed the Israeli practices and demanded equal rights for all people. Moreover, he provides a survey of

Palestinian theatrical activities in what he calls the “Arab sector in Israel.” Those were mainly

“concentrated in Haifa and Nazareth, both dominant centers of the Palestinian intelligentsia and

culture” (“Palestinian Theatre” 37).

Despite defeat, the Arab-Israeli War of 1967, also known as the Six-Day War,

significantly impacted Palestinian life and, by extension, all cultural activities in Palestine. In

another relevant study, “The Emergence of Palestinian Professional Theatre After 1967,” Snir

argues that the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip in the aftermath of the war

physically reconnected the two territories, which served as a major factor in pushing “the idea of

Palestinian national identity to the fore” (6). Therefore, the period following the 1967 War until

the establishment of the Palestinian National Authority in 1993 is often viewed as a critical stage

in the formation of political and cultural national consciousness, and in the rebirth of Palestinian

theatre after the catastrophe of 1948. Despite having to deal with numerous problems, including

Israeli censorship,4 many Palestinian troupes, both amateur and professional, emerged in the occupied territories during this time, especially in the 1970s, and helped establish a Palestinian theatre with a distinctive identity. In his article, Snir mentions a number of these groups,

4 Snir writes: “Troupes in the West Bank and Gaza Strip had to submit the full texts of their plays, before they could be performed, to the military censor responsible for the censorship of plays published or staged in those territories” (6), “The Emergence of Palestinian Professional Theatre After 1967,” Theatre Survey, 2005. 5

including: Firqat Ma’had Al-Quds (Troupe of the Jerusalem Institute for the Arts and Theatre),

Firqat Al-Masrah Al-Filastini (Palestinian Theatre Troupe), Al-Nojoom (The Stars), Sunduq Al-

Ajab (Magic Box), Al-Sanabil (The Spikes), and Dababis (Pins). Yet his focus is on Balalin

(Balloons), a theatre company with significant contributions to the growth of theatrical movement in Palestine.

Established in Ramallah in 1971, Balalin brought together a group of politically and culturally conscious directors, writers, performers, and thinkers. They were led by French-

Palestinian director Francois Abu Salem (1951-2011), who is now considered one of the most influential figures in the history of Palestinian theatre. According to Snir, Abu Salem, after

having received formal training in Paris, “was the first Palestinian man of theatre to internalize

the concepts of modern live theatre and employ them in practice” (“The Emergence” 12). As a

company with a distinctive approach to theatre, Balalin relied on the use of vernacular Arabic to

“attract local audiences and to contribute effectively to the process of nation building,” which

“marked the movement of popular theatre from the margins of the cultural system to its center”

(Snir, “The Emergence” 13). One of their most acclaimed productions was the experimental play

Al-Atma (The Darkness), which was collectively developed and performed.5 It highlights the

struggles of local theatre companies during the time, and the difficult circumstances under which

theatrical productions in the occupied lands took place. In 1976, after presenting their audience

with many successful shows, Balalin was disbanded due to “differences in opinion among

members” (Snir, “The Emergence” 22).

5 As Snir points out, “The experimental nature of the play was illustrated, for example, by the fact that the names of characters were the same as the real names of the actors who played them, including the company’s leader and the plays’ director, Francois Abu Salim” (14), “The Emergence of Palestinian Professional Theatre After 1967,” Theatre Survey, 2005. 6

In another noteworthy step towards professionalization of theatre in Palestine, Abu

Salem, together with several other Palestinian practitioners, founded El-Hakawati Theatre (The

Storyteller) in 1977. Offering a detailed overview of their work, Snir notes that the founders

“sought to establish a national theatrical framework which would contribute to the strengthening

of Palestinian culture, as well as provide an artistic venue to intensify the national awareness of

the Palestinians” (“The Palestinian Al-Hakawati” 58). In defiance of the Israeli attempts to

control Palestinian artistic expression, the troupe adopted a range of experimental and

improvisational techniques to convey their messages.6 In addition to the heavy use of

symbolism, their performances drew on blending the Palestinian ancient form of storytelling

with modern Western dramatic elements. In the Name of the Father, the Mother, and the Son, the

troupe’s first production, tackles the life of Palestinians under Israeli occupation. Staged during

the season of 1978-1979, it proved a great success. Mention should also be made of two other

highly appraised productions: Mahjoub, Mahjoub (1980-1981), which follows the life of a

confused Palestinian in his search for answers, and Ali the Galilean (1983), a play about an

Israel-Palestinian villager experiencing an identity crisis. Through generous donations, El-

Hakawati relocated in 1983-1984 to a new facility in East Jerusalem where they also delivered a number of praised plays—of note is A Thousand and One Nights of the Nights of a Stone

Thrower. However, with the outbreak of the first Palestinian uprising in 1987, the troupe was unable to cope with the developing situation on the ground, which impelled several of its founding members to leave in search for “new theatrical frameworks” (Snir, “The Palestinian Al-

Hakawati” 66).

6 Snir maintains that such attempts were “prompted by the Israeli establishment's awareness of the potential role of the theater as an important platform for the process of nation-buidling” (59), “The Palestinian al-Hakawati Theatre: A Brief History,” The Arab Studies Journal, 1999. 7

Certainly, the First Intifada (1987-1993) and its aftermath generated new circumstances

for the Palestinian society as well as its cultural activities. Following the Oslo Accords (1993-

1995) and the consequent establishment of the Palestinian National Authority (PA), theatre in

Palestine has come to deal with an array of new challenges, especially that companies now are

organized differently with the existence of official Palestinian institutions, i.e., the Ministry of

Culture. While it is not in the intention of this thesis to fully chart theatrical activity in Palestine,

it nonetheless focuses on a number of these working troupes (some created by former members

of El-Hakawati Theatre) by calling attention to their mode of performance. Along this trajectory,

in addition to including Palestinian theatre-makers in the diaspora, I seek to study Palestinian

theatre in an attempt to extend its definition beyond the confining political narrative.

Defining Palestinian Theatre

The manner in which published scholarship on Palestinian theatre handles the definitions

of “theatre” and “Palestinian” suggests a gap in cultural perception of the performing arts and a

discontinuity of Palestinian ethnic representation. Exploration of Palestinian theatrical activity

draws on what is assumed to be of value and not what is actually being performed in theatres

across Palestine and in the diaspora. In other words, Palestinian theatre is constantly reduced to a

local, and sometimes regional, practice defined by the pressing political and social circumstances

under Israeli settler-colonialism. While the national struggle is an essential component of

Palestinian culture, such understanding denies theatre from existing within other contexts, and from mirroring the potential changes in the cultural landscape of its participants—this is especially true in the case of younger generations. Another attendant issue with this conservative definition of Palestinian theatre is its disregard of Palestinian artists living outside of Palestine, in 8 various parts of the world. Disappointingly, almost no attention is paid to the Palestinian presence on the diasporic stage.

Along these lines, Palestinian scholar Rania Jawad, in the introduction to Theatre

Encounters: A Politics of Performance in Palestine, finds fault with restricting Palestinian theatre to that produced in Palestine and only for Palestinians. In Jawad’s view, the argument of cultural exclusivity fails to reflect the reality of Palestinian dramatic expression or to capture its expanding spectrum. With the realization that Palestinians are dispersed “across multiple borders and generations,” she holds that the concept of Palestine theatre is “bound to the artists’ local environs, themselves circumscribed by diverse political and social forces” (24). Therefore, it is more beneficial, Jawad proposes, to study Palestinian cultural production through “the multiple tensions at play between the artistic and the political,” instead of its direct connection to the national political struggle (26).

Moving beyond the questions on who is allowed to participate in Palestinian theatre or what defines a Palestinian production, this thesis takes issue with how relevant studies seem to focus on just one side of Palestinian theatre (non-violent resistance), in one specific territory (i.e., the West Bank), and in turn gloss over or completely ignore its existence elsewhere. For instance, theatre-making in Gaza Strip is often overlooked and excluded from any consideration for what is stated as the inability to transcend the experimentation phase and mature into a means of expression worthy of note. Likewise, the contributions of practitioners in the diaspora are often ignored and understudied. For these reasons, my project seeks to break away from the traditional definition of Palestinian theatre by examining different scripts and productions within these two contexts, in addition to that of the West Bank, tracing through them representations and techniques that can potentially persist and mutate over time. In doing so, I hope to touch on 9

and provide a few examples of dramatic expression indicative of the Palestinian experience and

its different aspects.

Chapter Divisions

Drawing on the limited research available and the meager documentation of production

history, this thesis, considering its exploratory purpose, ventures to find evidence that Palestinian

theatre artists’ voices make their way to the stage despite the fragmented cultural landscape. It

aims at a fuller understanding of Palestinian theatre and its cultural tenets accounting for the

historical, political, economic and social factors involved. Given the tumultuous history of the

country, the Palestinian experience is multifaceted and so is its dramatic manifestation. Steering

both into and away from politics and the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, the focus of this study is on

the theatrical instances of resistance, sumud, and identity re-affirmation, and the capacity of these

three notions to provide both content and context. Over the three chapters, I consult theatre

company websites, video-recorder performances, and published play scripts to analyze how

Palestinian theatre-makers comment on the Palestinian experience within the three contexts

covered in this thesis—the West Bank, Gaza Strip, and the Diaspora.

In Chapter 1, “Theatre of Resistance in the West Bank,” I draw heavily on Gabriel

Varghese’s research in Palestinian Theatre in the West Bank to examine the work of Al-Kasaba

Theatre, Ashtar Theatre, Al-Harah Theatre, the Freedom Theatre and Al-Rowwad. By offering a brief historical overview of the development of each company, drawn from Varghese’s book and other sources, I discuss how these five institutions contribute to the Palestinian culture of non- violent resistance against Israeli occupation. The West Bank is a Palestinian cultural powerhouse to which the history and future of Palestinian artistic expression is often linked. Therefore, it is 10

crucial to this study that I begin with investigating the theatrical activity in this Palestinian

territory and proceed from there.

Chapter 2, “Spectacles of Sumud in Gaza Strip,” considers how Palestinian theatre-

makers touch on sensitive issues facing the population in the besieged enclave in order to

provoke collective criticism. To be specific, I attend to productions taking place after the Fatah-

Hamas conflict in 2007 to argue that Palestinian theatre-makers attempt to mobilize the local

audience towards national unity by calling attention to the aftermath of the Palestinian political

division. The notion of sumud (steadfastness) I discuss in this chapter deals with how

Palestinians in the Gaza Strip withstand the terrible living conditions caused by the Israeli-

Egyptian blockade.

In Chapter 3, “Re-Affirming the Palestinian Experience on the Diasporic Stage,” I continue the exploration of Palestinian theatrical experience, but this time in terms of how diasporic theatre-makers establish a connection with Palestine, as their ancestral homeland. I

examine how two Palestinian playwrights, Ismail Khalidi and Hannah Khalil, re-tell stories of

Palestinian suffering during the early days of British-Zionist occupation in order to undermine

dominant historical narratives. While Khalidi’s Tennis in Nablus focuses on the Great Palestinian

Revolt (1936-1939) and its aftermath, Khalil’s Plan D addresses the experiences of Palestinian

villagers who were forced to flee their homes during the catastrophe of 1948. 11

CHAPTER I. THEATRE OF RESISTANCE IN THE WEST BANK

On January 28, 2020, the former US President Donald Trump, accompanied by Prime

Minister of Israel Benjamin Netanyahu in a White House conference, divulged to the world a political scheme allegedly aimed at resolving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Dubbed as “the deal of the century,” the Trump administration claimed it might be Palestinians’ final opportunity to achieve independence and statehood. In accordance with Trump’s proposal, a US-Israeli mapping committee set out to draw up all involved borders and territories in preparation for

Israeli annexation of vast chunks of the colonized West Bank. One of the often-quoted articles that comment on the matter cites an anonymous US official asserting the following:

We are prepared to recognize Israeli actions to extend Israeli sovereignty over areas of

the West Bank in the context of the Government of Israel agreeing to negotiate with the

Palestinians along the lines set forth in President Trump’s vision. (Ravid)

A quick reading of the above statement would suggest the existence of a designated Palestinian representative. But the reality is quite different. Palestinians abstained from attending Trump’s conference as well as from taking part in any subsequent negotiations declaring their disapproval of the Israeli-American plan that would erase their ownership of the land and deny them of merited political agency. The Palestinian refusal came as no surprise since Trump’s unlawful initiative builds on a long history of colonial practices and continuous efforts to invalidate and remove the Palestinian physical presence.

In spite of these long-standing atrocities committed by Israeli settler-colonialism, the

West Bank has always proven to be a Palestinian heartland and a principal site of national movement where Palestinians are keen on protecting their cultural and historical heritage. This is 12 particularly evident in how theatre-makers in the Palestinian territory develop and use profound tactics of non-violent resistance to comment on and respond to Israeli methods of control. While it is admittedly a challenging task, mainly due to the lack of sufficient scholarship, to parse how they tackle these complex themes relating to the occupation, this chapter will demonstrate that they aim to stay relevant and mobilize audiences by either establishing a connection with the collective memory in pursuit of unified political, social and cultural values, or by addressing the issues and concerns of Palestinian society.

In an article that attempts to offer a glimpse into how theatre in Palestine functions, Hala

K. Nassar underlines how some of the highly acclaimed productions rely on the transfiguration of traditional storytelling to effectively represent the Palestinian experience. She argues that “by generating hybrid cultural productions under military occupation, Palestinian theatre exemplifies postcolonial experiences precisely because of this struggle to (re)create a national identity” (15-

16). What she also hints at is a survival technique through which Palestinian theatre is able to persist and affirm its social function as a site of political intervention. To this end, Nassar draws on original interviews conducted between 1988 and 2005 to note that Palestinian theatre-makers

“constantly question the role of their work” in search of “what is effective in countering the cultural annihilation” carried out by Israeli settler-colonialism (16). This determining aspect of the Palestinian investment in theatre as a critical mode of creative expression has prompted scholars and observers of this practice, including Nassar, to associate the Palestinian theatrical experience, especially in the West Bank, with the notion of resistance as a defining centrality.

Indeed, this premise of non-violent resistance serves as the theoretical framework of

Gabriel Varghese’s book Palestinian Theatre in the West Bank (2020), which is publicized as the first major account of Palestinian theatre covering the last three decades. The book explores the 13

works of five major theatre companies in the West Bank, which are also the focus of this chapter,

and their theatrical activity since the first Intifada in 1987 until now. In so doing, Varghese

attempts to explicate how Palestinian artists in the Palestinian territory engage with the political

scene of their time, and contribute, in their own way, to the national socio-political

consciousness. This is based on the observation that “it is not uncommon to hear Palestinian

theatre-makers argue that their theatres are not just ‘public’ spaces but, more importantly, they

play a crucial role in the ‘public sphere’ itself” (Varghese 2). Following Imogen Tyler’s theory

of social abjection, Varghese introduces the concept of “abject counter-publics” to contextualize

how Palestinian practitioners develop theatrical strategies in their effort to combat Israeli

colonial practices of domination and racial schema (17). His assertions in that regard induce

theoretical depth to the cultural practice of non-violent resistance in the West Bank and certainly

help ponder its varied implications.

But how does Varghese define or help explain these notions of abjection and resistance?

Given that abjection is a border-making process, he turns to the proximity in geography and

discourse to argue that the resulting border anxiety between Israeli subject and Palestinian abject

“delimits zones of social life as either livable (by the national subject/self) or unlivable (by the

national abject/ other)” (10). This reasoning affirms the expulsion of Palestinians to a defective

social life in which they are rendered as inferior, unfamiliar bodies.7 According to Varghese’s postulations and considering the aforementioned colonial schema, the Israeli-self, manifested in the state practices, deems the Palestinian body a demographic threat that instigates hegemonic processes of discipline and control—at the end of which dividing lines between human subjects

7 For more information, see Chapter 1 (pp. 10-18) of Varghese’s book, which partly engages with Judith Butler’s Bodies That Matter: On the Discursive Limits of Sex. 14

and non-human others are realized (10-11). In response, Palestinians seek counter-hegemonic

tactics through which they not only “assert themselves as human beings,” but also preserve their

national and cultural identity (Varghese 17). One of the ways in which Palestinians of the West

Bank resist their colonial subjugation and express their nationalism is theatrical production.

This chapter is an attempt to track and understand this mode of performance in the West

Bank, on both institutional and cultural levels. Following the criteria of Varghese’s book, I focus

on the same five major theatre companies: Al-Kasaba Theatre, Ashtar Theatre, Al-Harah

Theatre, the Freedom Theatre, and Al-Rowwad. In addition to summarizing Varghese’s findings,

I occasionally incorporate other related research to further contextualize how these companies contribute to the Palestinian culture of resistance. In the form of short and concise case studies, I seek to provide a historical overview of the development of these institutions to highlight how their practice emerged as a response to the social and political challenges facing the Palestinian society—in relation to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Drawing on Varghese’s research, I argue that Palestinian theatre-makers attempt to extend the function of non-violent resistance beyond combating the Israeli colonial practices to address the socio-political realities on the ground.

Al-Kasaba Theatre

Originally founded as Theatre Arts Group in 1970 for audiences in Jerusalem, Al-Kasaba

Theatre and Cinematheque is a non-governmental cultural institution located in Ramallah,

Palestine. The artistic venue earned its current name and location in 1998 after the leasehold and renovation of a pre-existing inoperative movie house. The remodeling of the space allowed the company to expand its setting and incorporate cinema-related activities. It is now considered one of the few professional theatre companies in Palestine, and the sole well-equipped, multi-purpose space of performance. In addition to organizing theatrical productions and activities, the 15

multiplex hosts daily cinematic screenings as well as annual festivals, conferences, dance

performances, and music shows, most of which are funded or sponsored by national partners and

international governmental and non-governmental organizations—mainly European. By doing

so, Al-Kasaba Theatre and Cinematheque ultimately aims, according to the mission statement on

their website, to “disseminate and promote theater and cinematic arts in Palestine” and to help

“deepen cultural local, Arab and international communication” (“About Us”).

One central figure to the establishment and growth of Al-Kasaba Theatre is George

Ibrahim, the company’s general director. When the company commenced their theatrical efforts

in 1970 under the name of Theatre Arts Group, Ibrahim attempted to provide “entertainment and

commercially viable plays” for the sake of building an audience appreciative of theatre arts as

well as to conveniently bypass the then-existing Israeli censorship laws (Varghese 32). Based on

the list of performances provided on their official website, the group relied on adapting published

plays by notable international authors, including: The Game of Love and Marriage (Pierre de

Marivaux), The Chant of Death (Tawfiq Al- Hakim), Who Mocks Who (Pierre Beaumarchais),

and The Broken Jug (Heinrich von Kleist). They were also keen on engaging with children by

touring schools in Jerusalem with both original and adapted musicals—e.g., George Ibrahim’s An

Adventure in Jerusalem (1973) and Jackie Ayyoub’s The Happy Shoemaker (1974). However,

given the unsettling political situation on the ground, which eventually mounted to the First

Intifada (1987-1993), the company’s production work was “becoming increasingly out of touch

with the political mood of its audiences” (Varghese 33).

To keep up with this changing climate, Ibrahim launched Al-Shawk Theatre in 1984,

Artistic Workshop Theatre in 1986, and finally Al-Kasaba Theatre in 1989 (Varghese 34-35).

After having adopted a more political theatre practice, the company’s selection of scripts saw a 16

dramatic shift in what appears to be an attempt to address the Palestinian experience in a subtler

manner—this is mirrored in the list of productions found on their website (“Adult Theatre”).

During the second year of the first Palestinian uprising (1988), for example, they presented an

adaptation of Jean-Paul Sartre’s Men without Shadows, a play about war and torture that follows

a group of French resistance fighters during World War II. Such performances that contain social

and political themes relevant to the national context would have effectively reflected the

concerns and aspirations of the occupied Palestinian society. The group continued to produce

successful and important shows, and developed, at some point during the Second Intifada (2000-

2005), the habit of actively engaging their audience in “verbatim theatre” by hosting public

events that invite them to share their stories and experiences of life under Israeli oppression

(Varghese 38-39). These experimental collaborations have yielded critically acclaimed

productions, most notably Alive from Palestine: Stories Under Occupation (2001).

Often considered a representative production of Palestinian theatre, Alive from Palestine provides a perfect example of how non-violent resistance is conceived and articulated. Also, the time and way in which the script was developed speak to its significance as a consequential

product of the circumstances that shape and govern Palestinian cultural practices. The

description of the play on Al-Kasaba’s website reads:

Working in Palestine as an actor might just be the most frustrating experience and at the

same time it is as rewarding. The frustration comes from the lack of security and stability

that prevails our lives. We make decisions made to match a constantly changing situation

we cannot predict nor control. Creating in such a reality is a challenge, but when by a

daily battle you succeed in defying the “reality” and “situation” (I truly hate these words),

and create art with a troop of actors that are willing to fight a stubborn fight for the right 17

to be on stage. When the hardships become a part of the process and when the process is

as important as the result. When the art created becomes truly part and parcel of what

surrounds us comes the reward. Our performances are but the second act to the stone

throwers outside our doors. (“Stories Under Occupation 2001”).

A brief history of the piece’s composition is as follows: after the reckless killing of two detained Israeli soldiers by a group of enraged Palestinians at one of Ramallah’s police stations during the first weeks of the Second Intifada, the Israeli Army launched a vicious attack across all Palestinian territories and bombed the station. A few days later, the members of Al-Kasaba

Theatre joined a crowd of anti-violence protestors outside the demolished building and installed a stage nearby where individuals from all backgrounds could perform and share their views and concerns. This public setup proved so popular that “the theatre decided to host a similar event on a weekly basis” (Varghese 67). Despite the Israeli military invasion of the West Bank at that time, many participants would show up at Al-Kasaba Theatre in Ramallah to take to the stage and offer their personal accounts.

Later in 2001, Ibrahim and his group adapted a series of monologues inspired by these events into Alive from Palestine. Comprised of seventeen interconnected stories about the daily sufferings of Palestinians, the play demonstrates how Palestinian theatre-makers creatively respond to the Israeli violent practices. It is also a potent reminder of how theatre can facilitate a collective process of human healing. In his detailed analysis of Alive from Palestine, Varghese regards it as “an enactment of resistance because it defies Zionist attempts to ‘fix’ Palestinians as violent and horrifying bodies,” especially that it was later performed for international audiences in several theatres around the world (68). Along the same line, Hala Nassar, who also examines a number of these monologues in her article, praises the play’s ability to invoke “the collective 18 recent memory of Palestinians as a political weapon in the process of national struggle” (30). By presenting a Palestinian counter-narrative to the Israeli dominant discourse based on active engagement with the audience, Alive from Palestine affirms the role of Palestinian theatre- making as a means of non-violent resistance.

Ashtar Theater

Established in 1991 by Edward Muallem and Iman Aoun, two influential Palestinian theatre-makers, Ashtar for Theatre Productions and Training is a non-profit theatre located in

Ramallah. The company initially emerged as a theatre training program that takes place in schools across Jerusalem and Ramallah in response to “the continuous disruptions to education caused by the system of punitive measures Israel implemented to put down the first intifada”

(Varghese 40). These included the use of lethal force, block-by-block lockdowns, apprehension and torture of protestors, damage to infrastructure, confiscations of assets and property, and house demolitions. In 1995, Ashtar acquired a theatre building in Ramallah where they have been operating ever since. Back then, the company only offered a three-year training program with a goal “to develop a new generation of professional actors” (Varghese 40). Two years later, they started to adopt the methods and teachings of Brazilian director Augustus Boal (1993-2009) in order to “encourage audiences to discuss political developments and social problems”

(Varghese 41). Now, Ashtar Theatre is one of the leading advocates of Boal’s Theatre of the

Oppressed (Forum Theatre).

Ashtar’s Forum Theatre is an interactive community-based practice that allows the company to touch on critical topics and issues within the Palestinian society (“Forum Plays”). In

“Ashtar’s Forum Theatre: Writing History in Palestine,” Rania Jawad argues that the program “is part of a larger social process that extends beyond the realm of cultural practice, one that focuses 19

on internal Palestinian social politics” (122). This is reflected in the list of Ashtar’s Forum

experimental productions that include: The Right and the Bracelet (2011), a play that addresses

the woman’s right of inheritance; Rose Breaks her Silence (2013), Edward Muallem’s cry against

oppression of women; and his more recent investigation of labor rights, Machine and Hammer

(2016). Consistent with the goal to promote productive dialogue, the company also goes on

annual national tours where they attempt to reach potential audiences—this in light of the Israeli

restrictive measures that obstruct the Palestinian movement across the West Bank. Such

commitment allows them to create “spaces in which socially taboo subjects can be discussed”

and to consider “people whose voices are otherwise marginalized or ignored” (Varghese 42).

One of the company’s most reprised performances during those national tours is a series

called Abu Shaker’s Affairs. In sum, it is a story about a Palestinian family and the rapidly

changing circumstance of their lives. With an adaptable format, the series allows the troupe to

place the dramatic action within a given context and thus focus each time on “a different

community and a specific issue within that community” (Jawad 123). What is also unique about

Ashtar’s Abu Shaker’s Affairs is the comprehensive process in which each episode is created. It

begins with a review of literature on the issue at stake, supplemented by a wide discussion with

various subjected groups or individuals as well as well-informed parties, before the troupe

members devise an early conception of the performance. It follows that they use improvisational

methods to arrive at the play’s final form. Productions of this sort enable Ashtar to proclaim its

Forum Theatre program as a tool for building democracy.

In addition to offering training programs and community-based performances, Ashtar also has a professional core troupe that often collaborates with international theatre-makers and, when possible, goes on local and international tours. These co-productions usually “attempt to 20

highlight the everyday living conditions of Palestinians under occupation” (Varghese 43). In

2005, for example, Iman Aoun and Kevin Harris co-directed Era of Whales, an experimental play about conflict and terrorism. Another daring performance, directed by Mojisola Adebayo, is

48 Minutes for Palestine (2010), which follows a man and woman in their struggle for space and power as they are forced to live together. According to the company’s website, graduate students from the three-year program are strategically invested in and integrated into this core group of performers (“Professional Plays”).

Al-Rowwad

Al-Rowwad Cultural and Arts Society is a Palestinian non-profit organization located in

Aida Refugee Camp of Bethlehem. It was established in 1998 by its current general director,

Abdelfattah Abusrour, “as a response to the disillusion felt by Palestinians in the decade following the Oslo Accords” (Varghese 45). Palestinians then were disappointed with the Oslo process (1993-1995) and its failure to bring peace and security necessary for the recognition of

Palestine as an independent state. Previously known as Al-Rowwad Cultural and Theater

Training Center, the organization operates within a limited small-scale geography and attempts to respond to “various community needs” since the standard of living in Aida Refugee Camp is low with the unavailability of health care, scarcity of educational resources, deficiency of social services, and the poor quality of infrastructure (Varghese 46). Accordingly, the venue serves, depending on the moment, as a drama center, emergency clinic, food distribution site, and community shelter among other things. Regarding the cultural services, Al-Rowwad currently offers six different programs: Arts Program, Education Program, Media Program, Women

Program, Health and Environment Program, and Vocational Training Program. With focus on

Palestinian women, youth and children, it aims to partner with local communities in Bethlehem 21

and the available educational institutions for the sake of promoting creativity and non-violent

self-expression (“Who We Are”).

What sets apart Al-Rowwad’s approach in that regard from other Palestinian societies is

Abusrour’s philosophy of “Beautiful Resistance.” In a 2006 co-authored article with Jessica

Devaney, he explains that his ideas seek to separate involved groups from violence allowing them to articulate their hopes and dreams in an expressive manner. He writes: “The activities of

Alrowwad are founded in the belief that the arts are valid and fruitful medium that the children of the Aida Camp can use to speak out about their experiences living under the occupation”

(Abusrour and Devaney 11-12). In essence, it is a means of artistic performance that adopts a non-violent perspective and, in so doing, creates a safe space where children can explore their emotions. Beautiful Resistance derives its name from Abusrour’s belief that Palestinians “are a beautiful people” who wish to communicate their humanity to the world (Farrell 29). In the belief that Palestinians are imprinted with the notion of resistance at a very early age, he hopes to infuse those tendencies with an amicable process of artistic expression involving different forms of art. This is all aimed at fostering future generations “who have peace within them, so that they can build peace with the world” (Farrell 30).

One of the ways in which Al-Rowwad help children find their voice and develop cultural competence is theatre training. It also allows them to acquire sufficient skills on how to deal with the unfortune reality of Aida Camp. The most valid example here is We Are the Children of the

Camp. Written and directed by Abusrour, the play is approximately a seventy-five-minute

narrative of the Palestinian experience that highlights major historical moments—e.g., the 1948

Palestinian Exodus (Nakba). It recounts the adversity of exile and “expresses the commitment of

a new generation of Palestinian refugees to return to their homes and lands, and to struggle 22

beautifully for freedom” (Abusrour and Devaney 13). Since its opening in 2000, the play has

received critical attention leading to national and international tours. By performing in various

countries and at different theatres, the production “has constantly evolved as the stories told

reflect the experiences of the performers themselves” (Varghese 71). While the historical

premise persists as the spine of dramatic action, the children make use of each performance to

communicate with the attending audience and verbalize their personal searches for peace amid

living under the Israeli oppression and all the traumatizing experiences of military occupation.

By virtue of beautiful resistance, We Are the Children of the Camp enables the Palestinian young

performers to process their emotions and, at the same time, combat their colonial

subjectification.

Al-Harah Theatre

Based in the town of Beit Jala in Bethlehem, Al-Harah Theatre is a non-profit organization founded in 2005. Despite the recent date of its official establishment, the roots of the company and its theatrical efforts date back to the First Intifada in 1987 when two ambitious young Palestinians, Raeda Ghazaleh and Khaled Masou, started a theatre group of seven performers called Inad. After working for two successful years during which they attempted to address various social and political concerns, Ghazaleh and Masou decided to halt performances and turn towards “formal training in order to develop and lead a professional theatre company”

(Varghese 48). Once finished with their college education, they reinstituted Inad to collaborate on several productions and present their audience with original projects as well as adaptations of popular plays. Soon enough, the troupe gained national acclaim and their performances began to attract international attention. By the arrival of the Second Intifada in 2000, Inad had further expanded its reach and managed to partner with several theatre-makers from around the world— 23 most notably Stephen Daldry from the Royal Court Theatre in London. Despite these important achievements, Beit Jala came under Israeli attack during the second Palestinian uprising and sustained severe damage, which impeded Inad from adequately reaching their audience or producing enough plays. In 2005, a disagreement among the group impelled “eight of the nine members” to resign and launch Al-Harah Theatre (Varghese 50).

With a wider scope of theatrical production than Inad, Al-Harah troupe attempts to reach a vast audience from all ages and backgrounds and thus performs for children, youth, and adults.

In addition, the theatre company offers, in collaboration with international experts, training opportunities and workshops for drama coaches and aspiring young theatre-makers as well as exchange programs with theatre companies inside and outside of Palestine. With such emphasis on “plurality and multiculturalism” in their mission statement, Al-Harah Theatre seeks to get involved in shaping a civil society mindful of its rights and values. To achieve this goal, the company aims to take advantage of theatre, as an artform, and to create a space in which audiences witness performances of “compelling stories” that reiterate the need for positive social change (“Mission and Vision”).

One example of Al-Harah’s earliest performances intended for children and family is

Longing for the Sea (2005). In partnership with Backa Theater, a youth theater located in

Gothenburg, Sweden, the play was directed by Ghazaleh and had a Palestinian-Swedish cast. The script, which was developed by the team of the play, follows a girl named Hanin, who embarks on a healing journey from sorrow and loneliness after the loss of her grandfather. According to the description on the company’s website, the play encourages children to have hope and pursue their dreams no matter what. Opening in Sweden first and proving to be a huge success there,

Longing for the Sea then arrived in Palestine and toured the West Bank before travelling to 24

neighboring counties. Subsequently, the troupe had various other successful shows and co-

productions that address certain themes and topics within the Palestinian society. The list

includes: The Changeling (2010), an adaptation of Selma Lagerlöf’s play of the same name

directed by Britt Louise Tillbom and Jan Tiselius; a Palestinian folk story about children’s right

to protection titled The Old Man Sem’an (2019); and a series of plays about Christmas ending

with Christmas with Family (2019), which celebrates the holidays and emphasizes the

importance of familial relationships and values.

For the youth and adults, Al-Harah Theatre produces performances that engage with

several pressing social problems and concerns. Some of those productions deal with specific

phenomena or certain incidents within the Palestinian community, such as The Trap (2011), a

play about Palestinian youth and the Israeli attempts to recruit them against their people, and Al-

Nakba (The Catastrophe), which is a co-production with Badac Theatre Company (UK) that addresses the 2008 Israeli military attacks on Gaza Strip and the devastating aftermath. Other performances comment on events and issues that exist outside of Palestine or attempt to highlight some of the cultural challenges of unprivileged populations in different countries. Whereas Bye

Bye Gillo (2013) focuses on the struggles of Arab immigrants in Europe and the various identities they have to assume in order to survive, the co-production of Making Senses (2013)

with the Swedish Ögonblicksteatern Theatre examines the lives of women with disabilities in

Palestine and Sweden with respect to gender dynamics and cultural representation.

Perhaps one of the troupe’s most experimental and unique projects is Shakespeare’s

Sisters (2013), developed in collaboration with Teatro Dell'Argine and Oxfam Italy. Based on

rigorous research and collected testimonials by Rima Ghrayeb from Bethlehem University, the

play looks into the social norms and practices that govern the lives of unmarried Palestinian 25

women over the age of thirty and the abusive conditions they have to live under. In a

conversation with Varghese, Raeda Ghazaleh explains that “such women remain at home well

into their thirties and beyond” and “are often reduced to living lonely lives as ‘spinster aunts’

and/or the principal carers of elderly parents” (92). Written and directed by Pietro Floridia,

artistic director of Teatro Dell'Argine, the play is about forty-year-old Samira, a dedicated college professor, and the mind-expanding experiences she undergoes after the arrival of a dauntless younger woman named Nisma into her life. It warrants noting that the Israeli airport officials banned Floridia from entering the Palestinian territory, he held online rehearsals before a final in-person session with the performers in Amman, Jordan, in preparation for the opening performance there. When it arrived in the West Bank, Shakespeare’s Sisters toured various cities and received overwhelmingly positive responses that usually prompted post-show discussions.

To that end, Varghese affirms how such performances constitute “rare event(s)” within the

Palestinian society where women are allowed to “analyze their situations, form solidarities and be entertained without the sexism that is normalized elsewhere” (97).

The Freedom Theatre

During the ten-day Battle of Jenin (April 1-11, 2002), Jenin Refugee Camp was viciously attacked by Israel Defense Forces (IDF). As reported by United Nations Relief and Works

Agency (UNRWA), the military forces destroyed over 400 properties with more than twice that number significantly affected—1 out of 4 people were made homeless (“Aida Camp”). Among those turned-to-rubble establishments was a family house that once hosted a drama center called the Stone Theatre. Founded in 1993 by Juliano Mer-Khamis and his activist mother Arna, an

Israeli ex-soldier who married a Palestinian and devoted her life to helping the children of Jenin refugee camp, the humble location served as a center “for educating children, for facilitating 26

drama and art therapy workshops as well as a place for children and their families to socialize”

(Varghese 52). Two years later, the theatre closed down after Mer-Khamis passed away from

cancer and as Juliano returned to Israel where he soon became a well-recognized actor. By 2006, the Israeli-Palestinian theatre-maker “had become increasingly ‘fed up’ of performing for mainstream Israeli audiences” and returned to Jenin in order to carry on the legacy of his mother and support the people of the devastated refugee camp (Varghese 54).

Together with Jonatan Stanczak, a Swedish-Israeli activist, and Zakaria Zubeidi, a former

Palestinian militant leader and former troupe member of the Stone Theatre, Juliano Mer-Khamis established the Freedom Theatre. After the chaos and scale of damage caused by the Israeli military operations against the Palestinian territories during the Second Intifada, there was a

“realization that a different form of resistance other than armed resistance was needed”

(Varghese 54). With high commitment to the concept of cultural resistance for their own personal and professional reasons, the three founders operated in different key positions within the theatre company. While Mer-Khamis served as the artistic director and Stanczak as the managing director, Zubeidi ensured the troupe gain legitimacy and acceptance within the

Palestinian community. After leading the company for about five years and helping establish its theatrical enterprise of non-violent resistance, Mer-Khamis was fatally shot on April 4, 2011 at the hand of a masked killer outside the theatre. A year before his assassination, in an interview with Erin B. Mee, he revealed that: “The Freedom Theatre is a venue to join the Palestinian people in their struggle for liberation with poetry, music, theatre, cameras. The Israelis succeeded to destroy our identity [and] our social structures, [both] political [and] economical.

Our duty as artists is to rebuild or reconstruct this destruction. Who we are, why we are, where we are going, who we want to be?” (168). 27

In honor of Arna and Juliano Mer-Khamis and their legacies, the Freedom Theatre, now

under the general management of Mustafa Sheta and the artistic direction of Ahmed Tobasi, is

committed to introducing young Palestinians to the world of theatre and “providing them with

important tools for dealing with the hardships of daily life under occupation.” With focus on

creative and cultural resistance, the company offers several educational and professional training

programs and workshops in theatre and drama as well as multimedia training opportunities in

different aspects of film, creative writing, and photography. In an effort to reach children and

audiences from other areas across the West Bank, the Freedom Bus project, launched in 2011,

organizes annual tours (Freedom Rides) with an open invitation to participants from around the

world. In addition, the venue constantly hosts film screenings, festivals, concerts, dance, circus

shows, and theatre performances by other local and international troupes, which are all connected to their efforts to make theatre and visual arts accessible to the Palestinian youth and to introduce new generations of inspired artists, “who one day will be at the forefront of the

Palestinian liberation movement” (“Who We Are”).

Over the last fourteen years, the company has produced more than thirty plays for both young and adult audiences—whether independently or in partnership with various other theatre troupes inside and outside of Palestine. Their productions range from “commentaries on

Palestinian society and culture” meant to address and criticize some of the internal issues and concerns, to performances “more directly critical of the Israeli state” (Varghese 56). Some of the examples include a controversial adaptation of George Orwell’s Animal Farm (2009), which looks into the Palestinian socio-political climate; Alice in Wonderland (2011), a musical about arranged marriage and oppression of women in Palestine; an original play titled What Else – Sho

Kman? (2011) that highlights the destructive psychological impact of the Israeli occupation on 28

Palestinians; and The Siege (2015), a theatrical account of the 2002 Siege of the Church of the

Nativity in Bethlehem based on testimonies collected from the exiled Palestinian fighters.

Furthermore, the company has successfully concluded five Freedom Rides, which are

inspired by the twentieth-century African American civil rights movement of the same name.

Each tour “brings together performers trained in Playback Theatre and solidarity activists” from

Palestine and other parts of the world in order to “challenge Israel’s control over Palestinian

movement and space, as well as to call attention to land confiscation, house demolitions, military

and settler violence, the expansion of illegal settlements, and the theft of Palestinian resources

such as water” (Varghese 80-81). Through the improvisational techniques of Playback Theatre,

those performers enact personal stories and experiences of life under Israeli oppression shared by

the attendant audience members. In so doing, they rely on “the retrieval and circulation of

personal testimony as oppositional practice, as a counter-discourse of resistance to dominant

narratives, stereotype, exclusion, and so forth.” (Varghese 83). Due to COVID-19, the company announced recently the postponement of their 2020 Freedom Ride until next year. With a nine- day agenda, it is expected to take off from Jenin and travel through the Jordan Valley, Hebron,

and the South Hebron Hills before ending in Bethlehem. Though the event is yet to be

rescheduled, with it the troupe hopes to focus on the struggling communities within those areas

and allow the participants to briefly live among them and bear witness to their living conditions.

Conclusion

In this chapter, I have briefly contextualized how five key theatre companies in the West

Bank engage with, and respond to, the social and political circumstances of the Palestinian

society living under Israeli settler-colonialism. I have mainly drawn on Gabriel Varghese’s

research in Palestinian Theatre in the West Bank, and his theory of social abjection (counter- 29 publics), to try to make sense of the artistic choices and efforts made by Palestinian theatre- makers to resist the Israeli processes of domination as well as to remain relevant and in touch with their audience. In examining the institutional and cultural development of these five companies, I have explored how they have navigated the conditions under which they are forced to work by adopting different approaches to non-violent resistance. By using the creative techniques explicated in my concise case studies, these theatre-makers critique unfolding situations around them, and in so doing demonstrate how theatre plays a vital role in supporting the movement towards national liberation.

30

CHAPTER II. SPECTACLES OF SUMUD IN GAZA STRIP

On August 8, and 9, 2018, following several weeks of escalating Israeli-Palestinian

tensions, the Israeli Defense Force (IDF) carried out a series of vicious air strikes against

multiple targets in Gaza Strip. In addition to killing, injuring, and terrorizing civilians, those

attacks resulted in the full destruction of one of the Palestinian territory’s very few theatre spaces

and cultural facilities—Said Al-Mishal Foundation for Culture and Science. On the pretext of

housing a security office for Hamas, the Israeli aircrafts razed to the ground the five-story

building that hosted the foundation’s different venues—two theatre spaces, three multi-purpose

meeting halls, a library, a research center, and a computer laboratory. Established in 2004, Said

Al-Mishal was until that day a vital destination for both famed and aspiring local artists and

theatre-makers. Director Ali Abu Yassin, who worked on and supervised various projects and

theatrical productions there, told +972 magazine: “This center has been our home for years. We

have lost the only home for artists in Gaza” (Yagi). According to the Palestinian Performing Arts

Network (PPAN), the location also served as headquarters for a dance group called Al-Anqa (the

Phoenix) and was used by other Palestinian associations and theatre companies, including Ashtar

Theatre, to organize events, performances, and training workshops for people of Gaza Strip

(“Statement on the destruction of Al-Mishal”).

In fact, on the day of the attack, one of Al-Mishal’s venues was getting ready to host a short play by an ensemble of young female performers for an audience of United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) employees. However, due to rising concerns over the possibility of Israeli aggression, an UNRWA official “called Yaseen (Abu Yassin) that morning and asked him to cancel the play” (Danney). Also, around that time, director Idrees Taleb had been tirelessly working on his upcoming production, a mainstage show intended for the approaching 31

Islamic holiday of Eid Al-Adha. After the bombing of the building, he declared to the Guardian

that: “Al-Mishal wasn’t just an office for us; it was a story of love and inspiration. All of our

work was there; we lived there; our memories were there” (Balousha and Holmes). Despite their

greater loss, Abu Yassin, Taleb, and their colleagues and student performers were not the only

ones truly affected by the destruction of the cultural center. Since the foundation was keen on

including Palestinian children within their scope of work, multiple children’s initiatives and

charities were using the space for the implementation of their projects and recreational activities.

Of note is Gaza Children’s Cinema, a community-based initiative attempting since its inception in 2013 to build “healthy engagement and constructive relationships” among “vulnerable children in elementary and middle school” through film and cinema (“About Us”). In an emotional statement, the founders of the initiative commented on the incident as follows: “The

Said Al-Mishal Cultural Center provided spaces of entertainment and joy for generations of children and young people in Gaza; it is in total ruins now” (Ritman).

Indeed, the obliteration of such a pivotal cultural institution sparked anger and frustration among Palestinian artists and audiences as well as drew international attention and criticism. In an open letter to the Guardian, a number of British film and theatre practitioners, including director Rufus Norris and playwright Caryl Churchill, denounced the bombing of “this symbol of

Palestinian culture and identity” and accordingly declared their support of the Palestinian creative community “as they mourn the destruction of one of the few large venues for theatre and music performances in besieged Gaza” (“We condemn”). As explained in the statement, directors and playwrights that actually collaborated with Palestinian troupes and theatre-makers from Gaza Strip and the West Bank were keenly aware of the serious implications of the loss of the space on the cultural life of the Strip. Probably the most recognized British-Palestinian 32

production that took place at Al-Mishal was At Home in Gaza and London, co-founded and co-

directed by Julian Maynard Smith and Taghrid Choucair-Vizoso, two UK-based directors who were also saddened by the news about the cultural center. According to the website, their project sought to use technology and livestreaming in order to create “a mutual performance space for participants in two locations separated by great political, economic and physical divides.” With the realization that Gaza Strip is one of the most isolated places in the world, At Home in Gaza and London aims to connect Palestinian artists with an international audience, and to provide a window into “the survival tactics, creative impulses and coping mechanisms that sustain those living in Gaza” (“About”).

In a separate, exemplary demonstration of such creative survival techniques, a group of local musicians, dancers, painters, poets, and prominent figures from different arenas held a protest on the ruins of Al-Mishal within the few days following the Israeli hostile action. As documented in video reports by Mondoweiss and The Electronic Intifada, they transformed the devastated site into a space of performance where they could stand in solidarity with the team of the cultural center as well as emphasize their commitment to protecting and promoting the

Palestinian heritage and culture. Among the participants were the sorrowful members of Al-

Anqa dabke troupe, who sang and danced despite their pain, and a music group called

Dawaween, whose renditions of traditional and classical Arabic songs attracted a crowd of children from the neighborhood. Serving as the backdrop for those performances, a collection of posters, banners, and graffiti writings along the high line of the small mountain of Al-Mishal’s debris morphed that section into an exhibition of defiant quotes (“Gaza mourns cultural center”).

Featured amongst these was a popular line from one of Mahmoud Darwish’s poems: “We have on this land that which makes this life worth living.” But the most visible phrase among all read: 33

“Here we shall stay, earthbound like olive trees.” This conveyed a message of steadfastness, or

what Palestinians call sumud, a word that represents a determining idiomatic meaning to their

daily life under occupation.

Often viewed as a Palestinian tactic of surviving the repressive practices carried out by

the Israeli settler-colonialism, sumud is a concept with conflicting views on its definition,

efficacy, and cultural significance. Sophie Richter-Devroe, a professor of Middle Eastern Studies

and expert on women's political activism in Palestine, argues that “Sumud denotes a strategy calling on Palestinians to stubbornly and steadfastly oppose the occupation through, for example, not leaving their land or restoring and carrying on with their daily life despite death and destruction” (47-48). While considered a form of non-violent resistance by its proponents, it has

received, Richter-Devroe remarks, counter-arguments of being “deterministic and traditionalist,”

that is, submissive and passive in its approach (48). More concerned with the origin of the term

and its historical development, Dutch anthropologists Alexandra Rijke and Toine van Teeffelen

record that sumud emerged as a national symbol in the 1960s when Palestinian refugees in

Jordan and Lebanon started to exercise it in order to endure the hardships of their daily life,

notably after the launch of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) and its member

movements in 1964. In the following decades, however, the term became “primarily associated

with the Palestinians living ‘inside,’ on the Palestinian land,” i.e., the West Bank and Gaza Strip

(Rijke and van Teeffelen 87). On the questions of its value and function, the two authors explain

that with the unfolding and application of various methods of non-violent resistance after the first

Intifada (1987-1993), sumud “acquired more active and challenging meanings, such as active

noncooperation with the occupier” (88). 34

In an online essay, “Sumud and Strategy: Ten Dimensions,” van Teeffelen, who serves as

an advisor for Arab Educational Institute in Bethlehem, elaborates that sumud represents an

umbrella concept “with different shades of meaning, different emphases over time, and also

somewhat different understandings related to place and context” (par. 2). Drawing on both

literature review and original interviews, he arrives at associating the term with ten principle qualities: demography, culture and life on the land, survival tactics in the face of oppression, civil courage, resistance, rights and values, perseverance over time, grassroots movements, cultural communication and preservation, and international resonance. By focusing on some of these determining factors, this chapter examines three theatrical productions that highlight the

Palestinian experience in Gaza Strip: Al-Habl Al-Sori by Intellectual Creativity Forum – Ibhar,

Al-Qafas by Ashtar Theatre, and Sabe’a Ard by Serb Center for Culture and Community Arts.

Based on my viewing of full video recordings, I offer summary and analysis of these performances to argue that they emphasize the need for Palestinians living in the coastal enclave to maintain a certain level of sumud in their ongoing struggle for human and national rights, especially after the Fatah-Hamas conflict in 2007 and the subsequent national division, which I discuss below. Before doing so, I provide a brief overview of the historical development of theatre in Gaza Strip, based on Dr. Hussein Al-Asmar’s book Theatrical Movement in Gaza Strip

(2010), to address the serious lack of scholarship on the subject, in both Arabic and English.

Is There Theatre in Gaza Strip?

As was the case with all other Palestinian territories, Gaza Strip experienced a national rupture after the 1948 Nakba and suffered from a consequent state of deep turmoil that disrupted all forms of life, including theatrical production, for nearly a decade. Taking the year 1956 as its point of departure, Al-Asmar’s Theatrical Movement in Gaza Strip attempts to provide a 35

comprehensive study of theatrical activity in the often-excluded territory. Given the almost

complete unavailability of relevant records and references, the book relies on an integrative

methodology of descriptive, critical, analytical, and historical approaches to fill the gaps. In so

doing, it aims to achieve the following three objectives: examine the historical development of

theatre in Gaza Strip from 1956 until 2010, review the main troupes, performers, and productions

during those times, and, in the end, put forward suggestions for further improvement. In his short

introduction, the writer mentions previous studies and publications on Palestinian theatre in

Arabic, including Noha Al-Aidi’s Palestinian Theatre Until 2001, to underline the disregard and,

sometimes, complete expulsion of Gaza Strip, especially when referring to the mid-twentieth

century (12-14). He then proceeds to emphasize that the enclave witnessed multiple and varied

theatrical efforts around that time; however, it has not received extensive research or any

adequate attention. Another important reason for this dismissal, Al-Asmar notes, is that many of

these accounts adopt a regional approach, dealing with specific geographical areas, most notably

Jerusalem and Ramallah.

In the mid-fifties, according to Al-Asmar, a few theatrical activities and events began to

take place at preparatory and secondary schools across Gaza Strip, e.g., Shejaiya School (19).

These performances mainly addressed the 1948 Nakba and the 1956 Tripartite Aggression on

Egypt (Suez Crisis), featuring only male actors, such as Nassif Badran, Essam Halewh, Ibrahim

Al-Wadi, and Abdel-Karim Al-Hayya. In the early sixties through the mid-seventies, the

theatrical activity in the Strip grew considerably with the emergence of more aspiring talents and

amateur groups from local service centers, sporting clubs, religious foundations, trade unions,

and other educational institutions including: Palestine Secondary School, Salah Al-Din School,

Mustafa Hafez Secondary School, and Gaza College. Usually written and directed by teachers 36

interested in theatre, the shows were either created for didactic purposes or to celebrate national,

social, and religious occasions and holidays. This growth, maintains Al-Asmar, did not happen in a vacuum, rather, there were four major contributing factors: screenings of Arab and non-Arab films at the three then-existing cinemas (Al-Samer, Al-Jalaa, and Amer), screenings of Arab films held by UNRWA in refugee camps across Gaza Strip, the continual exposure to visiting

Egyptian troupes, and the circulation of art-focused magazines and journals (21).

These early attempts certainly allowed the theatre in Gaza Strip to enter a more mature phase in the following decades and paved the way for the eventual establishment of professional companies. Yet, there was a noticeable absence of female performers. To that end, Al-Asmar hints that women at the time were barely involved in theatre-making and their roles were played by male actors (23-25). In 1966, however, Palestinian Workers Union made an unprecedented decision to cast three female actresses, Aida Kamal, Hala Fakhry, and Maryam Mansour, in an adaptation of the Egyptian play 30 Days of Prison, which also featured the author in the leading role (Amshir). This was one of the first serious attempts at including female performers in theatrical production in Gaza Strip (Al-Asmar 26). It was not until the late twentieth century, with the inauguration of the Palestinian National Authority in 1994, that women started to have a notable and consistent presence on stage. The reasons for this female underrepresentation are often attributed to the conservative views and strict traditions of the Palestinian society as well as the lack of awareness of women’s rights.

In the period extending from 1974 to 2010, Al-Asmar confirms, more than twenty-five independent theatre troupes emerged in Gaza Strip, ranging from the professional and semi- professional to the amateur (27). But given the scant financial resources and the constant pressures of Israeli censorship and violent practices, many groups were unable to survive long, 37

and mostly ceased to make any significant theatrical contributions. Nonetheless, one of the first

examples of such efforts is Al-Shomoe Palestinian Ensemble for Performing Arts, which was

founded in 1974 after the great efforts of Hisham and Raeef Al-Bargouny, Awni Murad, Jawad and Riyad Harooda, Omar Al-Dojani, and Ghazi Khalaf. The seven members of this group were able to put together four performances before closing down in 1976 due to the lack of funding:

Colored Faces, The Big Sacrifice, A Deaf Man at a Wedding, and A Story from Home. In

addition to the financial issues, other companies suffered from dissonance or sensed the need to

move towards a new direction, which prompted certain members to part ways and create new

spaces. A particular example of this trend is when Saeb Al-Sakka and Nabil Sakallah, two

prominent Palestinian actors, decided to depart from the Free Muslim Youth Troupe (1978-1984)

and launch Al-Amal Troupe for Arts and Theatre in 1984 in order to further promote performing

arts among Palestinian youth and offer them adequate training opportunities (Al-Asmar 56-66).

Later, two of their apprentices, Saeed Al-Bitar and Mustafa Al-Nabih, left Al-Amal to collaborate with other local practitioners and help establish new venues, namely Hanadel in 1990 and The South in 1991 (Al-Asmar 67-83). Based on Al-Asmar’s remarks, most of these now- defunct groups failed to produce any memorable performances or reach a discernable level of success.

In order to avoid the same fate, contemporary theatre companies in Gaza Strip, observes

Al-Asmar, have begun since the early 1990s to embrace the structure of non-governmental organizations and cultural centers, a practice that coincides with the establishment of the

Palestinian National Authority and its official institutions, i.e., the Ministry of Culture, in 1994

(155). However, with the continuous absence of national funding, these groups still either rely on

self-financing while collaborating with interested partners, or search for foreign donors and aid 38

agencies, who might have their own agendas and criteria dictating the topic of the play and its

theme. While some no longer produce theatre, the list of troupes includes: Basma Society for

Culture and Arts, Canaan Association for Culture and Arts, Al-Karama Center for Culture and

Development, Culture and Free Thought Association, Al-Mintar for Art Production and

Distribution, Fekra Arts Institute, Theatre Days Productions, Serb Center for Culture and

Community Arts, and Intellectual Creativity Forum – Ibhar.

The Palestinian Split

On January 25, 2006, Hamas secured a majority of seats in the legislative council after a sweeping victory in the Palestinian parliamentary elections over the long-dominant Fatah.

President Mahmoud Abbas, who is also the chairman of the Palestinian Liberation Organization

(PLO) and a member in Fatah, declared his acceptance of the results in a televised speech calling upon the elected representatives to earn the trust of the international community. But sanctions were soon imposed on the Palestinian National Authority as the leaders of Hamas rejected the three principal conditions of the Middle East Quartet (the United Nations, the European Union,

Russia, and the United States) to recognize the state of Israel, accept the previous Israeli-

Palestinian agreements, and adhere to diplomatic means over armed resistance. On March 29, a

Hamas-led government was sworn in after other political parties, including Fatah, refused to be involved. A year later in March 2007, following a five-month Israeli aggression against Gaza

Strip in response to the capturing of an Israeli soldier in June 2006, Fatah and Hamas agreed to form a national unity government headed by Ismail Haniyeh. However, various disagreements between the two factions soon led to a quick yet disastrous civil war, lasting from June 10 to 15, by the end of which Hamas took over Gaza Strip, and President Abbas dismissed the unity government to appoint an emergency one in the West Bank. Since then, the two geographically- 39

separated territories by the means of the Israeli settler-colonialism also became politically divided.

In an article titled “The Contemporary Palestinian Political Division,” political scientists

Abdelhadi Alijla and Aziz Al-Masri argue that the political division between Fatah and Hamas

“had very hazardous consequences politically, socially and economically, both strategically and

in the short-term” (18). On one hand, the two experts claim, it has allowed for the intervention of

foreign influences in the politics of both the Fatah-governed West Bank and the Hamas-run Gaza

Strip. On the other hand, it has provided a perfect excuse for the Israeli occupation and Egypt to maintain their blockade over the already isolated Strip. Therefore, there has been a disruption in the social fabric, “where the political division has been linked to a low level of trust amongst

Palestinians” (Alijla and Al-Masri 18). The reasons for this decline in trust, maintain the authors, deal with several dire consequences of the Palestinian split that include the emergence of a neo- bourgeoisie elite-dominant class that takes advantage of the situation, and a great increase in the unemployment rate among the youth as well as in suicide cases.

Al-Habl Al-Sori (The Umbilical Cord)

The national division is a dark moment in Palestinian history considered by many as the second catastrophe after the one of 1948. Among those are the team of Intellectual Creativity

Forum - Ibhar, who delivered to their Gazan audience a daring comedy that criticizes the terrible social, economic, and political conditions brought by this conflict and parties involved, mainly

Fatah and Hamas. Written by Eyad Abu Shareea, directed by Hazem Abu Hmaid, and co-funded by A. M. Qattan Foundation, the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation, and Sharek

Youth Forum, Al-Habl Al-Sori premiered at Rashad Shawa Cultural Center on March 7, 2010. It

presented, as expressed by Abu Hmaid to Al-Arabiya, “an escape valve for what people say in 40

secret, their frustration about the division and their anger over the foreign aid that interferes with

[political] decisions” (“Bold new Gaza paly”). Evoking scenes from the daily life of refugee

camps in Gaza Strip, the satirical play follows a group of long-burdened citizens in their quest to

confront the corrupted political leaders in hope of an imminent national détente. Over the course

of approximately an hour and a half, which for the purpose of my analysis is divided into three parts, the performers take turn skewering the nationalist organizations for ignoring the suffering of Palestinians who live under pressing circumstances. These circumstances include the lack of basic and essential human needs; the acute shortage of water, electricity, and healthcare services;

inadequate infrastructure; the collapsing economy; restrictions of movement and travel; and, the

most bothersome from the perspective of the play, foreign aid dependency.

Against the backdrop of run-down exterior walls covered in politically-inspired graffiti

writings, the first part of Al-Habl Al-Sori focuses on reflecting the humanitarian situation in Gaza

Strip and the shared struggles of the locals.8 Comprised of multiple interconnected stories, the narrative involves Lafi (Moamen Shwaikh), a former schoolteacher suffering from cognitive issues after the murder of his father for ill-defined political reasons, and a group of his unfortunate neighbors—one of whom is Mohammed (Mohammed Al-Nabih), an unemployed college graduate, who falls victim to a fraud travel scheme and loses his life savings. In one of the early and most shocking scenes, Lafi explains to his child friend Zakaria, who comes home with a food parcel (capona) distributed by his UNRWA school, that the Palestinian cause has been reduced to a can of processed meat and a bottle of cooking oil. With similar intensity,

8 I accessed this performance via YouTube. For the purpose of this study, I transcribed and translated relevant sections. All translations of direct quotations are mine. All subsequent references to Al-Habl Al-Sori are drawn from this source: Abu Shareea, Eyad. Al-Habl Al-Sori. YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-zv4TEufbQU 41

Fawaz (Zuhair El- Belbeisi), a café worker, and Abu Jelda (Wael Hijo), a cobbler, bring to light,

in a following scene, the overwhelming challenges facing the working-class families in Gaza

Strip. In view of this painful reality, the indignant shoemaker proceeds to deride the never-

ending series of Fatah and Hamas reconciliation meetings that always take place outside of

Palestine under foreign sponsorship and end up failing. Soon, it becomes clear to the characters,

and the viewers, that the source of all their problems is the existence of external influences that

benefit from perpetuating the Palestinian national division.

The short second part, which I consider an intervention for the attending audience, begins

with the news that nationalist organizations, after the great efforts of regional and international parties, have agreed to meet with the people and listen to their demands. Thrilled with the announcement, all the neighbors come together on stage to celebrate and contemplate the ending of their chaotic days. In the midst of it all, Yasser, a disconcerted young man, asks: “Who will represent us [the people]?” Almost immediately, a bitter dispute reminiscent of the on-going

Palestinian national experience erupts among them—whereas men and women who represent the

older generation believe they have enough experience to handle the matter, the younger ones

argue for their own competence and higher education. Quickly, Lafi, the wise fool of the play,

rants against individual representation in an attempt to quiet his quarreling neighbors and

contends afterwards that it should be a collective effort—everyone should speak at the meeting.

His scathing remarks in this powerful scene also take implicit aim at the Palestinian viewers and

invite them to consider their own complicit conduct and be aware of any divisive voices that

would hobble the drive for a national unity.

To articulate the message of the final part of the performance, and its critique of foreign aid to the audience, representatives of the nationalist factions appear on stage with file folders 42

attached to colored cords—each color corresponds to the political allegiance of its holder.

“Those are political programs (platforms),” the leaders explain to the inquisitive crowd, and the

cords are responsible for providing them with “food, water, and oxygen.” The umbilical cord

metaphor is carried further into the scene to underpin how certain foreign countries (the mothers)

and their monetary support influence the agenda and trajectory of dependent political factions

(the developing babies). While the sequence is full of moments that receive bursts of audience

laughter, it also includes touching performances that bring tears to one’s eyes. One such instance

involves Am Zaki (Inas Al-Saka), a mother who lost a son during an Israeli aggression against

Gaza Strip. When the Hamas-affiliated character claims that his party has proved to be

“steadfast” against the Israeli siege, she rebuts: “sumud [steadfastness] comes from our injured

and martyred children, who we [the parents] raise to be good men, but you [political factions]

take them to war and bring them back to us on stretchers.” After a series of similar emotional

speeches from the neighbors about their miserable life under the current state of national split,

Lafi concludes the performance by announcing: “Those cords have destroyed our past and

present. We will cut them off so we can protect our future, and the future of our children.”

In his description of sumud, Toine van Teeffelen states that the term indicates “a deep

and active awareness of cultural roots,” which entails “an active presence to keep going on with

community and family life” (par. 5). By telling stories about the Palestinian struggle,

emphasizing the significance of Palestinian values and traditions, and calling for unity between

the people and their political leaders against Israeli settler-colonialism, Al-Habl Al-Sori is a demonstration of social and cultural sumud that invokes the collective memory of the audience in

Gaza Strip to remind them of their heritage and what is at stake should they give up. While it is not in the power of the civilians to lift the imposed siege and put an end to their isolation from 43

the world, resilience and mindful courage to reject the Israeli oppression as well as to work

towards healing national frictions are imperative to their survival. This belief is projected in the

words of Abu Shareea, the playwright, who revealed to Al-Arabiya, that the play “is a scream in the face of the officials, because the people are sick and tired of the way they do business”

(“Bold new Gaza paly”). By bringing the frustration and anger of the people on the stage, and in light of the continuous failure of reconciliation attempts between Fatah and Hamas, Al-Habl Al-

Sori uncovers the Palestinian experience in Gaza Strip affirming the commitment of local

theatre-makers to mobilize their audience towards mutual solidarity and perseverance.

Al-Qafas (The Cage)

With an ensemble of eight young performers, Al-Qafas opened to an estimated audience of

400 at Al-Mishal Cultural Center on April 2, 2015. Produced by Ashtar Theatre in collaboration

with Rosa Luxemburg Stiftungto (RLS), a leading German institute in political education, and

written and directed by Ali Abu Yassin, the one-act play highlights the devastating experiences

of defenseless Palestinians who had to evacuate their homes during the 2014 Israeli war against

Gaza Strip and take refuge at UNRWA schools. Based on collected testimonials from displaced

families, the story offers a tragic account of a Palestinian girl, Hanin, living with her father in a

shelter and having sustained a limb injury that requires specialty medical services unavailable in

the under-attack enclave. Due to the blockade imposed by Israel and Egypt since 2007, Hanin is

unable to travel abroad for treatment, which prompts one of the journalists to call upon national

and international organizations to provide the necessary assistance. After attracting wide media

attention, officials arrive at the shelter to support Hanin; yet each one of them proves to be self-

serving and uncaring about her suffering. While mocking such perfunctory acts of solidarity, Al- 44

Qafas, as indicated by Abu Yassin, “is an attempt to reflect the political, social, and economic realities of living in Gaza Strip, especially during war-time” (Bedier).9

As the performance begins, the audience watches a crowd of people stampede across the stage in panic as the lights and sound effects attempt to simulate an air raid.10 Against the setting of a school shelter—with clothes hanging from laundry lines, barely-standing accommodation units separated by sheets and blankets, and humanitarian aid boxes in view—this spectacle of terrorized Palestinians is meant to evoke a common occurrence during war-time in Gaza Strip.

As the moment passes and lights go up, the audience is introduced to Hanin, a sulking girl in a wheelchair, who just arrived at the shelter from the hospital, accompanied by father and uncle, with news that she might undergo amputations of both legs. Injured in an Israeli strike on the neighbors’ house, she represents a vulnerable group of Palestinian children that are often deprived from adequate medical care. In fact, according to a report by United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), 3,436 children were injured in the Israeli aggression of 2014, with 10% suffering from a permanent disability (“Key figures”). Despite having obtained a medical referral to Egypt, Hanin is forced to wait because the borders are closed. As she remains silent and unwilling to engage with anyone in the shelter for almost the entire duration of the play, other characters reveal their interconnected stories of suffering in quick, highly touching sequences.

9 Abu Yassin’s interview with Hadf News was conducted in Arabic. For the purpose of this study, I translated relevant parts to English. All references to the interview are drawn from this ,Hadf News, April 2015 ”أﺑﻮ ﯾﺎﺳﯿﻦ: "اﻟﻘﻔﺺ"ﻣﺴﺮﺣﯿﺔ ﺗﺤﻚ ذھﻦ اﻟﻤﺸﺎھﺪ“ .source: Bedier, Ahmed https://hadfnews.ps/ 10 I accessed this performance via YouTube. For the purpose of this study, I transcribed and translated relevant sections. All translations of direct quotations are mine. All subsequent references to Al-Qafas are drawn from this source: Abu Yassin, Ali. Al-Qafas. YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPFuloPNFqs 45

In one scene, the audience encounters a family of four that lost their house and all their belongings in one of the Israeli bombing attacks. A man of dignity and pride, the father is hesitant to take refuge in a shelter and rely on the available humanitarian assistance. Under pressure from his wife and hungry children, he succumbs to the situation in favor of the survival of his family. This moment in the performance echoes what van Teeffelen explains about sumud as an act of “going on and surviving, with all the required energy, determination and preparedness to sacrifice” (par. 8). In a following scene, we come to hear the story of another hurting father, Abu Saber, a sole survivor suffering from a mental disorder after the traumatic loss of his entire family in a vehicle attack. He speaks to his family as though they were still alive and sitting in front of him. When joined by other people from the shelter, Abu Saber, keen on being hospitable, calls for his deceased wife: “We have guests. Make us some tea.” Then he proceeds to introduce his two daughters—one in her senior year of high school and the other still a young child. Full of heartache, these conversations communicate the pain and sorrow of

Palestinians losing family and loved ones.

The final scene presents the audience with Hanin’s one and only speech. During the preceding scene, an official from the United Nations, accompanied by a translator and a photographer, arrives at the shelter to award her with a plaque of recognition, yet she remains unmoved. As the gaggle of actors exit, the father becomes irritated by Hanin’s refusal to speak and begs to hear her voice. After taking a long deep breath, she delivers a monologue about the uselessness of talking after people’s homes were destroyed and innocent children were killed and blown apart, and how she is suffering while the whole world is watching in silence. Feeling trapped and powerless, Hanin uses the metaphor of the cage to describe living in the isolated

Gaza Strip under Israeli restrictions and extreme measures. However, she assures her father at 46

the end that: “no matter how hard they try, they will never weaken [her] determination. There

will come a day when [she] will stand on her feet again.” This last part of Hanin’s monologue

speaks directly to the idea of Palestinian sumud referring to the importance of long-term

perseverance, which is “more nourished by hope than optimism” (van Teeffelen par. 10).

Reflecting these overwhelming experiences of Palestinians in Gaza Strip, Al-Qafas, as Abu

Yassin confirms, “seeks to provoke the audience and remind them of those who lost their houses

and their loved ones during the Israeli aggression of 2014” (Bedier). In doing so, the play

documents the conditions under which Palestinians live in the Strip and the daily challenges they

have to endure and survive, particularly those caused by Israeli settler-colonialism in the time of

war. It also provides several examples of Palestinian sumud and the ways in which Palestinians

withstand the hard realities of their lives. In van Teeffelen’s view, “For the staying power of

sumud in real life the continuous documentation of people’s stories of sumud is imperative” (par.

12). The significance of Al-Qafas therefore lies in its ability to make visible what is at stake in

how Palestinians perform sumud.

Sabe’a Ard (Seven Grounds Under)

On August 12, 2017, Sabe’a Ard was presented at the auditorium of El-Wedad Society for

Community Rehabilitation in celebration of International Youth Day. Funded by Swiss Church

Aid (HEKS/EPER), produced by the Culture and Free Thought Association, the production was

written and directed by Ashraf Al-Afifi, the artistic director of Serb Center for Culture and

Community Arts. In an interview with Hadf News, Al-Afifi declares that the performance is

“aimed at highlighting the issues and concerns of the youth in Gaza Strip” (Bedier).11 It is a story

11 Al-Afifi’s interview with Hadf News was conducted in Arabic. For the purpose of this study, I translated relevant parts to English. All references to the interview are drawn from this source: /Hadf News, Aug. 2017, https://hadfnews.ps ”!ﺳﺎﺑﻊ أرض".. ﻋﺮض ﻣﺴﺮﺣﻲ ﻓﻲ ﻏﺰة"“ .Bedier, Ahmed 47

about a group of people trapped underground after the collapse of a hospital building—a

politician, a merchant, a policeman, and an average citizen. In order to survive, all those in

power repeatedly exploit the powerless civilian. At the end, he is asked to commit murder in

exchange of a secure job and a house, offered by the self-concerned politician and his ally the businessman. Over the course of thirty-five minutes, the biting comedy criticizes the Palestinian leaders and their empty promises and eventually asks the audience to take action against their subordination instead of surrendering to the harsh realities of their lives.

Once the curtains open, the audience sees a couple of performers lying on the ground with their faces downward while three other physically-still actors occupy different parts of the stage.12 As a recorded narration mixed with background music starts to play, the two young men

begin to enact a sequence of choreographed movements, at the end of which, one of them climbs

a metal structure to settle on top of a ventilation unit sticking out of the wall. This opening is

designed to convey conflict between the leading character and his conscience ending in their

choreographed split on stage. The recorded narration provides an insight into the reasons behind

this separation.

My friend, I hope we are done here.

We have lived a sweet life together.

And you have always given me peace of mind.

But now, you have decided to cause me trouble.

12 I accessed this performance via YouTube. For the purpose of this study, I transcribed and translated relevant sections. All translations of direct quotations are mine. All subsequent references to Sabe’a Ard are drawn from this source: Al-Afifi, Ashraf. Sabe’a Ard. YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUlHZuFBCMc 48

What happened to you?

You should back down from this.

You and I are not used to it.

Burdened by the various demands of life, he decides to mute his moral senses and abide by the

rules of the corrupt and opportunist individuals. However, these ethical compromises prove to

have dire consequences and lead him, in the end, to a mournful moment of self-confrontation.

Throughout the performance, the audience is made to encounter situations in which the

young man is persuaded into questionable behavior and to hear conversations about how to spot

and seize an opportunity regardless of moral issues. In one of the first scenes, the egotistical

politician shows him how to take advantage of their current situation being trapped in the rebel- held building. As the young man puts on a suit jacket that he stole earlier for a job interview, the

politician scoops up a handful of dirt and throws it at him. Before attempting to bruise the

bewildered civilian in the head using a metal pipe, he explains that “a little of dust and blood”

would serve his image and make a great news story. In a following scene, the cunning merchant,

siding with the politician on all matters, mocks the young man for boasting about holding a college degree in humanities. In his view, the country needs fortune-seekers, not intellectuals.

These moments in the play arraign the shameful pro-forma practices of some Palestinians officials and their focus on self-image as well as the amoral materialist tendencies of the government-backed tradesmen who mercilessly exploit people.

At a later point in the play, a member of the rescue squad appears from the ventilation

duct to inform the group of the devastating earthquake that hit the country. Since there is a slim

chance of their survival, it is crucial, according to the firefighter, to wait and “maintain their 49

sumud”—a line frequently iterated throughout the remainder of the play. As the overwhelmed

politician calls and screams: “sumud is not for me, get me out of here,” the squad member

reveals that the priority goes to injured people. The repetition of the word “sumud” in their

conversations aims, in part, to ridicule the political rhetoric used by Palestinian leaders when

addressing the public. But more importantly, it speaks of the constant suffering and the human-

threatening conditions inflicted on the imprisoned population in Gaza Strip by the Israeli-

Egyptian blockade. The words of the firefighter propel the politician, merchant, and policeman to

assault the young man and cause him a serious injury in order to prompt their evacuation.

However, due to an environmental threat, the rescue squad is now concerned with the disposal of

dead bodies and thus refuses to assist them.

The final scene leads the audience to consider possible real-life parallels to the drama it is witnessing. In order to guarantee their survival, the politician and the merchant press the young man to murder the policeman, who falls unconscious in the preceding scene having heard the news about the environmental crisis. While the scene attempts to condemn the Palestinian leaders and nationalist organizations for sacrificing the people to serve their own interests, it also reminds the audience that nothing justifies taking a human life, no matter the circumstances.

Following a moment of confrontation with his righteous self, the exhausted civilian rejects all their offers and turns to the audience to deliver an emotional speech about his unpleasant experience with finding work, during which, he affirms that his story symbolizes the struggles of the youth in Gaza Strip and their sumud against the lack of job opportunities.

In addressing the problems facing the Palestinian youth, including the economic conditions,

Sabe’a Ard exposes to view the severe impact of the Israeli blockade on life in Gaza Strip as well as the ramifications of how some corrupt Palestinian political leaders take advantage of people’s 50

suffering. In view of these circumstances, the play, reveals Al-Afifi, “sends a message to those in power [political leaders] that the Palestinian youth are fed up with their lies and false slogans”

(Bedier). By doing so, Sabe’a Ard reminds its audience that these issues concern all Palestinians in Gaza Strip, and that sumud requires persistence and great inner strength; otherwise, it becomes

“appropriated as a mobilizing but rather empty slogan” (van Teeffelen par. 15).

Conclusion

This chapter has argued that Palestinian theatre-makers in Gaza Strip play a vital role in addressing the various pressing issues caused by the Palestinian national division as well as the

Israeli-Egyptian siege. As seen in the three productions I examine, they speak against the heedless practices of the nationalist organizations and political leaders, in addition to calling attention to the disastrous consequences of the Israeli restrictions over the Palestinian movement.

Within these contexts, Palestinian theatre practitioners also hope to inspire their audience to keep a high level of steadfastness (sumud) living through these extreme conditions. While sumud “is not a panacea for everything related to the Palestinian struggle for rights,” as van Teeffelen points out, it is nonetheless essential to the preservation of Palestinian identity, culture and heritage (par. 14). It is based on this understanding that Palestinian troupes in Gaza Strip, such as those highlighted in this chapter, produce plays that focus on internal concerns as much as on addressing the Israeli occupation. In so doing, they emphasize the value of sumud as an active form of resistance against the various challenges facing the Palestinian society.

51

CHAPTER III. RE-AFFIRMING THE PALESTININ EXPERIENCE ON THE

DISAPORIC STAGE: AN EXPLORATION OF TENNIS IN NABLUS AND PLAN D

This chapter gives attention to how Palestinian theatre-makers in the diaspora feature

Palestine in their work, which in turn reflects the artists’ relation to their ancestral homeland as

well as their understanding of its history and heritage. I discuss two plays that address Palestinian

life under British and Israeli occupation—Ismail Khalidi’s Tennis in Nablus, and Hannah

Khalil’s Plan D. The primary reason behind these two choices, aside from the fact that they are

among the very few published scripts by Palestinians in the diaspora, is that each playwright,

born and raised outside of Palestine, attempts to dramatize a certain defining moment in

Palestinian history based on family experiences and follow-up research. Accordingly, the two

plays articulate ways in which the younger generations reconstruct stories from the past in order

to create links with Palestine in the present. In offering an analysis of these two published scripts,

I argue that Khalidi and Khalil re-affirm their Palestinian identity by invoking the Palestinian

collective memory and speaking against the Israeli narrative on the existence of Palestinians

within those historical contexts.

The Palestinian Experience of Diaspora

In their foundational book on Palestinian diaspora, Helena Lindholm Schulz and Juliane

Hammer maintain that diaspora is a problematic term that concerns the dispersion of certain

peoples in different countries around the world.13 The definition also demands the existence of

13 Schulz and Hammer write: “As has been underlined by most recent studies, ‘diaspora’ is a problematic term, related as it has become to one very unique experience, i.e., the Jewish, yet applicable and relevant to a number of very different cases and forms (cf. Cohen 1997). The term is further complicated by the fact that ‘diaspora’ has increasingly come to be employed as a metaphor to signify a global condition of mobility, in which migrants are frequently seen as at the core.” (8). 52

“strong collective images of the homeland,” where displacement from this native land and the

ongoing lack of it shape diasporic experiences (Schulz and Hammer 9). While this origin place

can be more symbolic than territorial, its absence brings about a transnational identity as diaspora populations “create new and other forms of social connections and interactions that are not bound by territory” so as to communicate with each other and their host societies (Schulz and

Hammer 10-11). These include visiting family and friends in different places within the same nation or other nations, attending weddings and social events, and seeking job opportunities.

According to Schulz and Hammer, an implication of similar interactions is “the recreation of a collective self in several different places,” which brings to discussion the notion of hybridity—a

term that refers to “the ways in which identities are formed anew in the process of meetings

occurring through travels and movement” (13). The resulting process of social formation thus

indicates that “the homeland is not really necessary in order to maintain a sense of community,

identity and belonging,” landing at odds with the conventional ideas of nationalism about the

concurrence of nation and state (Schulz and Hammer 14).

When attempting to define the displaced Palestinian population as a diaspora, Schulz and

Hammer affirm the existence of moral and political issues that problematize the task. One

notable argument against employing the term is delivered by Edward Said, “who argues that

Palestinian ties to the homeland render associations of the term ‘diaspora’ enigmatic” (Schulz

and Hammer 20). This is mirrored in the variety of Arabic terms used to describe the Palestinian

experience—al-shatat (dispersion), al-manfa (exile), and the frequently used al-ghurba

(estrangement from home). Broadly speaking, however, the Palestinian diaspora “certainly

relates to the dispersal in the late 1940s as well as the second exodus in 1967,” while still taking

in consideration that “not all ‘members of the Palestinian diaspora community’ are refugees or 53 descendants of refugees” (Schulz and Hammer 20-21).14 Regarding the exodus of the 1948-49, the authors state that it constitutes the largest wave of Palestinian exile as “approximately

700,000 people fled or were expelled because of the war and atrocities that occurred in relation to the creation of the state of Israel” (24). Whereas a number of these Palestinian refugees moved to certain areas within Palestine (Gaza Strip and the West Bank), others fled to neighboring Arab states—Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria. The Palestinian dispersion has continued ever since, with the second notable wave of exodus taking place after the 1967 Arab-Israeli war. In the aftermath of this six-day war, Israel seized Gaza Strip and the West Bank displacing “approximately

320,000 Palestinians” from their homes (Schulz and Hammer 39). Furthermore, Israel has used deportations, Schulz and Hammer note, as means of individual and collective punishment since the early 1970s. One notable incident involves the exile of 412 Palestinians in 1992 to Lebanon for allegedly being affiliated with different Palestinian nationalist organizations.

Displaced Palestinians forced to leave the country as a direct or indirect result of the

Israeli population are now scattered around the world. In a 2020 report, the Palestinian Central

Bureau of Statistics (PCBS) estimates the Palestinian world population by the end of 2019 at over 13 million, approximately 6.7 million of whom live in global diaspora—whether as refugees (the majority) or immigrants. Living within a variety of host populations and thus under different political atmospheres and state policies, the members of the Palestinian diaspora deal with dissimilar legal, political, social, economic, and cultural issues. These various realities of

14 Schulz and Hammer explain that “Christian migration to avoid conscription in the Ottoman army or to attempt to make a better life in the ‘new world’ began in the late 18th century (Tsimhoni 1993).” In addition, other patterns of Palestinian migration continue to take place “as refugees residing in Jordan or Lebanon search for better lives and employment opportunities in the Gulf, as families send their children for studies in the USA, as refugees are displaced again and again and as people are prevented from entering various countries at all” (21). 54

exile have inspired Juliane Hammer’s 2005 book Palestinians Born in Exile, which is “an

attempt to show the young faces of the Palestinian diaspora, those who had to create their

Palestinian identity without having lived in Palestine.” (6). Based on research and fieldwork

conducted between 1997 and 2000, she focuses on two particular categories of younger

Palestinians (ages 16-35) returning after the start of the Israeli–Palestinian peace process in the

early 1990s: those who are affiliated with the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), and the

children of Palestinian diaspora in Western societies—mainly the United States. It is also worth

mentioning that the interviewees in Hammer’s study were not recognized as refugees since they

or their families managed to migrate overseas at some point, despite doing so for reasons

attributed to dire social, political, and economic conditions caused by the Israeli colonialism.

Although Hammer’s work is a valuable contribution to the scholarship on Palestinians in diaspora, this chapter is not concerned with the process of return in particular—or with determining whether Palestinians are diasporic. Rather, I call attention to the different aspects of

Palestinian identity that Hammer highlights. In order to provide a comprehensive analysis of

Palestinian diasporic experiences, she singles out three particular categories: political identity, cultural identity, and religious identity. The first pertains to the “the political commitment of the respondents and their knowledge of Palestinian politics” (Hammer 168). This also includes knowledge of Palestinian history and the type of attachment exiled Palestinians have to their homeland. The cultural aspect in Hammer’s view is largely linked to language (Arabic) and the ability to navigate Palestinian heritage—namely music and literature. While not entirely exclusive to Palestinians, other cultural elements include ethnic food and generous hospitality as well as home decorations (posters, flags, and family pictures). As for the religious identity of

Palestinians, Hammer asserts that: “In the perception of many Palestinians, it is difficult to 55

distinguish between religion and tradition, although they are different words: din (meaning

something similar to “religion”) and adat wa taqalid (customs and traditions)” (187). After recording different religious attitudes and practices among the respondents, she concludes that religion and tradition are personal aspects of Palestinian identity in the diaspora and highly dependent on the example set forth by the parents.

Drawing on Hammer’s discussions of the three aspects of Palestinian identity, I analyze

how Ismail Khalidi and Hannah Khalil, two Palestinian playwrights living in the diaspora, create

links with their ancestral homeland by formulating stories based on real-life experiences during

major historical events. In Tennis in Nablus, Khalidi focuses on the Palestinian Revolt (1936-

1939) and the different ways in which Palestinians navigated their lives at the time. Khalil’s Plan

D, on the other hand, highlights the experiences of Palestinian families who lost their homes

during the 1948 Nakba. Accordingly, I use Hammer’s remarks to contextualize how the two

playwrights attempt to redress how Palestinians are represented within those historical contexts,

and in so doing, challenge the dominant Israeli narrative.

Tennis in Nablus

Ismail Khalidi was born in 1982 in Beirut, the son of Rashid Khalidi, a prominent

Palestinian-American historian of the Middle East, and Mona Khalidi, and the grandson of

Ismail R. Khalidi, a former Palestinian senior officer at the United Nations Department of

Political Affairs. In 1983, his family left Lebanon and moved to the United States when his father received a research fellowship from the Institute for Palestine Studies at the University of

Chicago. In 2005, Khalidi received his B.A. in International Studies, with minors in English and

Theatre, from Macalester College. It is also the same year that he wrote his debut play Truth

Serum Blues, a one-person performance about a young Arab-American narrating his memories 56 while under torture. His next play about the Arab Revolt, Tennis in Nablus (2009), was written during his final year in the M.F.A in dramatic writing at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. It won several awards, including the Mark Twain Comedy Playwriting Award and the Quest for Peace

Playwriting Award (Kennedy Center Honors), before receiving its world premiere production at the Alliance Theatre (Atlanta, Georgia) in February, 2010. His other credits, which also touch on similar complex topics related to exile, war, racial discrimination, and nationalism, include:

Foot, Sabra Failing, Dead Are My People, and an adaption (co-written with Naomi Wallace) of

Ghassan Kanafani’s Returning to Haifa.

Coming from a politically involved family, and having experienced the transnational and hybrid realities of Palestinian diaspora, Khalidi, who currently resides in Chile, and his theatrical work provide an example of how younger generations living outside of Palestine continue to connect with Palestine, and how they make sense of its history and political inheritance. In the particular case of Tennis in Nablus, the Palestinian-American playwright explains in an author statement that “hearing stories of the Arab Revolt and its importance to the formation of

Palestinian identity and the modern struggle over Palestine” inspired the writing of the play

(Khalidi 64). The Arab Revolt (1936-1939) was a nationalist uprising against the British

Mandatory Government seeking independence and self-determination. In light of this defining moment in Palestinian history, Khalidi sets his play in 1939, with the outbreak of World War II and the increasing immigration of Zionist Europeans to Palestine. The process by which he was inspired by this history is certainly worth quoting here as it reveals an artistic inclination to resist and subvert the Israeli narrative concerning Palestine and Palestinians.

I was reading a book by an Israeli historian on the period, and he described two British

officials in Palestine playing tennis at the time of the Arab Revolt using Palestinian 57

prisoners chained together as ball boys. This image struck me and it seemed like it

summed up so much about imperialism, and about Palestinian history, too. It also brought

up many questions about who the Brits in this scenario were, who the prisoners might

have been, and their relationship to each other. I worked outward from that image and the

other characters and the stories came as I started writing. Also, some of the plotlines and

characters are based on family lore and other historical events and characters. (Khalidi

65).

Unfolding over two acts, Tennis in Nablus is a “tragipoliticomedy,” as Khalidi describes it, that follows a hot-blooded Palestinian rebel, Yusuf, and his family in their struggle against the

British occupation (63). Recently released from prison, Yusuf finds his way back to Nablus, where he is reunited with his wife, Anbara, and his nephew Tariq, an apolitical businessman and an admirer of the Western tradition with whom he shares a strained relationship. Upon meeting, the two men are arrested by Lieutenant Douglas Duff, a British officer keen on capturing Yusuf and halting the Palestinian revolt. While they are imprisoned and awaiting trial, Anbara seeks to free them by writing inflammatory articles, under fictitious male names, lambasting the British colonial abuse and sparking Palestinian protests outside the prison. Later, she resorts to bribing two recruits in the British army, an Irish soldier and an Indian conscript, into helping Yusuf escape. To their surprise, a secret trial takes place ahead of schedule and he is hanged. In the meantime, Tariq is released upon interference from his friend Samuel Hirsch, an influential

German Jew committed to purchasing land in Palestine. However, the Palestinian tradesman, overwhelmed by the British violence and the death of Yusuf, decides to leave the county and moves to Beirut. 58

Partially relying on the somewhat romantic moments between Yusuf and Anbara and the sporadic episodes of comic relief, Tennis in Nablus proves to be a drama of crisis that insists on finding hope in times of despair. The importance of the play in that regard lies in how Khalidi’s characters represent several aspects of the Palestinian experience as well as help illuminate the different ways in which Palestinians express loyalty and allegiance to their country. Yusuf, a nationalist with an undying fighting spirit, demonstrates throughout the scenes a high political consciousness that often brings him into conflict with people around him. In Act 1, Scene 5, for example, he criticizes his nephew for collaborating with the British army and selling Palestinian land to the Jewish community. When Tariq boasts about his business success, which in his view prepares one for the future of Palestine, Yusuf mockingly responds: “You’re absolutely right.

Because there won’t be a Palestine to do business in before long! We’ll be the foreigners soon enough and your business partners will be the citizens” (Khalidi 118). This strong sense of being under threat not only drives Yusuf’s devotion to defending the land, but also leads him to condemn those who overlook its existence. Another noteworthy dimension of Yusuf’s political compass is his admiration for Emiliano Zapata, a leading figure in the Mexican revolution (1910-

1920). In a final moment preceding his secret trial in Act 2, Scene 9, he receives a short visit from the ghost of Zapata. They talk about homeland and tackle the harsh reality of life under oppression—of which both are familiar. At the end of their conversation, the imprisoned

Palestinian declares: “This is my country Emiliano! It’s all of ours!” (Khalidi 176).

Whereas this attachment to Palestine defines Yusuf and his Palestinian identity, Tariq, on the other side, mirrors a different Palestinian perspective. More concerned with business than politics, he often views Yusuf’s actions as agitating and unjustified, which is why he informs on his uncle to the British army at the beginning of Act 1. However, his mentality as well as his 59

views on the Palestinian revolt against British colonialism take a fundamental shift after having

shared a prison cell with his rebellious uncle. This process of transformation starts in Act 2,

Scene 2, when he hears the Palestinian protesters outside the British confinement facility hail his

name. He expresses his feeling as follows: “I’ve never heard so many people saying my name at

the same time! I feel . . . like I need to piss” (Khalidi 149). Extending the metaphor of the play’s title, the chaining of Yusuf and Tariq’s feet together during the tennis match not only hints at the cruel practices of the British army, but also symbolizes their shared fate as Palestinians, despite their differences. Before getting released, Tariq is visited by Mr. Hirsch, who has vouched for him. A heated discussion between the two in the prison holding area about the political implications of their business and the hidden agenda of all parties involved reveals a dramatic change in the Palestinian’s understanding of the events taking place in the world around him. He is now worried and feeling “unsafe”—a shared sentiment among all Palestinians. Tariq’s subsequent decision to leave for Beirut is thus a reminder of all those Palestinians who emigrated in search of a better life.

Anbara, the one woman in Khalidi’s Tennis in Nablus, is perhaps the most complex character. She prefers the means of non-violent activism to Yusuf’s armed resistance. Her criticism of the British persecution of Palestinians and their leaders proves powerful and prompts multiple attempts at shutting down her voice. In one of her incendiary articles, under the pseudonym of Mohammad Ali Baybars, she describes the political conditions under the British rule: “Our leaders have been exiled, killed, imprisoned, or co-opted. And the Arab kings are far too comfortable under the tutelage of their Western masters to be of any use. Soon we will find ourselves strangers in our own land.” (Khalidi 131). Despite these disastrous circumstances, and the death of Yusuf, the determined Anbara remains in defiance of all colonial practices of 60

domination that aim at to eliminate the Palestinian existence on the land. In his last visit before

leaving the county, Tariq hands her the keys to all his remaining properties. Anbara takes down

an Ottoman sword hanging on the back wall of the house and places the keys in its place. This

cultural practice is very common among Palestinian refugees and exiles, who pass the keys to

their homes in the occupied parts of Palestine from one generation onto the next as they firmly

believe they will return one day.

Khalidi’s depiction of these different modalities of activism or political choices align

with Juliane Hammer’s assessment that: “In their self-perceptions as Palestinians, everything tended to be political, and all groups in society were, in one way or the other, involved in politics.” (171). In other words, Tennis in Nablus highlights some of the ways that Palestinians navigate the difficulties of their life under occupation. More importantly, the play helps uncover the often-distorted historical context, which, in the playwright’s opinion, not only shows “that

Palestinians existed before Israel, but also that they had a sophisticated society and culture and that they were struggling against colonial British rule for their own freedom and self- determination” (Khalidi 64). To that end, none of Khalidi’s Palestinians is against the existence of a Jewish community in their country. Rather, they are concerned about the Zionist agenda to take over the land by the means of British imperialism. By challenging such false notions about

Palestine and Palestinians, Tennis in Nablus attempts to restore a narrative that is often hidden from view where Palestinians are forced to defend themselves and the land.

Plan D

Born in the UK and raised in Dubai, Hannah Khalil is an award-winning Palestinian-Irish

playwright. She has authored several successful plays for both the stage and the radio. Starting in

college, where she specialized in English and Drama, Khalil’s theatre work includes: Ring, 61

Leaving Home (King’s Head Theatre), The Unofficial Guide (Rose Bruford College), The Scar

Test (Soho Theatre), Interference (The National Theatre of Scotland), Scenes from 68* Years

(Arcola Theatre), and A Museum in Baghdad (Royal Shakespeare Company). As for Plan D, the

project started in 2008 after Khalil had attended a seminar about the 1948 Palestinian Nakba,

where she was inspired by the documented stories and interviews of Palestinians and Israelis

who witnessed the events. Later, the play underwent further development at Tinderbox Theatre

Company in Belfast and joined the 2009 Pick 'n' Mix Festival. On January 26, 2010, it received a

world premiere production at the Tristan Bates Theatre to later receive a nomination for the

Meyer-Whitworth Award.

In an author statement, Khalil explains the personal motives behind writing Plan D,

noting that the experiences of her family had a large influence on the creation of the story.

My father—an incredibly inspiring man who taught himself English at night under the

street lamps by a motorway in Kuwait—has told me many wonderful, evocative stories

from his childhood, and I’ve wanted to weave them into the narrative of a play since I

started writing. What’s more, I’m constantly inspired by all the strong women in my

life—both my grandmothers and especially my Irish mother whose own history oddly

and closely mirrors my father’s. (Khalil 331).

Interestingly, Khalid does not name the country or any of the characters in the play. She hopes

that having the audience watch it without “immediately knowing where it was, they’d be

surprised to find it was Palestine and be interested to discover more” (Khalil 333). In addition,

this ambiguity, in Khalil’s view, would help the story become universal; that is, theatre-makers

around the world, should they relate to the events, can re-imagine them in various other contexts. 62

Organized in five parts, Plan D takes place around 1948, which historically marks the

sacking of a great many Palestinian villages and towns at the hands of the Israeli occupation.

Accordingly, it is a play about the loss of one’s home and cultural heritage as well as the

dreadful impacts of forced migration. By re-telling stories that are often neglected or overlooked,

it interrogates the dominant historical narrative on Palestinian culture. Situated in an anonymous

village, Plan D revolves around a contented family whose peace is disturbed after the sudden

arrival of a long-lost relative warning them of an approaching threat. The family consists of a

hard-working father devoted to maintaining his farm, a dedicated housewife, two children (a

daughter and a nephew), and a fearless mother-in-law. The play opens with all of them gathered in the kitchen/living area of their house on what seems like a regular evening. Whereas the father is playing with the kids after having finished their homework, and the mother is washing the dishes, the grandmother is busy cleaning an old gun that belongs to her long-missing husband.

This portrayal of a safe, cordial household is clearly intended to symbolize the life of Palestinian villagers before the catastrophic upheavals of 1948.

Later that night, one of the father’s cousins from his hometown shows up at their door after having travelled a long distance. The tired man is promptly welcomed into the house and offered food and hot tea. This display of generous hospitality, which is common to Palestinian culture and tradition, serves as an indication of the strong familial relationships among the

Palestinian society. It is indeed because of these cherished bonds that the cousin has made the high-risk trip. Once the children go to sleep, he reveals to the father, mother, and grandmother that all neighboring villages have been forced to flee, and soon the same will happen to them.

Despite hearing an explosion than night and finding a huge hole (an explosion mark) in his farm land the next morning, the father remains skeptical and unwilling to abandon the house. He tells 63 the worried cousin, who insists that they should move away: “I won’t leave—it’s taken me years to get it to where it is now—this is our home—and there’s the livestock, the fields to be tended— we can’t go anywhere” (Khalil 369). His words reflect the shock and pain resulting from the unusual and cruel situation of losing one’s home—a plight that Palestinian people had to face.

Worried about the safety of his family, the father eventually agrees to set up a camp in the nearby woods and have them take refuge there. The struggle of actually losing their home begins here as the family attempts to navigate the arising challenges. One of the most strikingly sad moments takes place soon after when the little girl starts running back towards the house as she is no longer able to endure living in the wild. As the father and cousin pursuit and bring her back, the following conversation takes place.

Daughter (Sobbing): I just want to go to back.

Nephew: You can’t just run away!

Daughter: I want my teacher. (Pause). My friends . . . where are they?

Granny: We’re here.

Daughter: I miss school. (Khalil 414).

The daughter’s frustration with the imposed homelessness and the absence of familiar faces offers a glimpse at the experiences of Palestinian children who lived under traumatizing conditions, along with their families, during and after the 1948 events.

In sympathy, the father and the cousin decide to take the girl back to the village in order to visit the school as well as to bring more supplies. However, the three soon return to the camp empty-handed with the father in a state of shock. Without explaining himself, the frightened man suddenly requests everyone to collect their belongings and prepare for leaving the village. It is at this moment that the family begin their journey as refugees. In one of the final scenes, after 64 finding a temporary shelter at one of the houses in their path, the father shares the details from that day at the village with their host—an old man who refuses to leave his home.

Father: We’d been staying in the woods and I went back to collect some things . . . I went

in and the house felt warm, the sun coming in the window, and as I closed the door, I had

decided that this was all nonsense. I was going to go outside again and fetch my family,

bring them back to the house, because this is madness, we can’t be hiding from nothing.

But then I noticed something—a new smell—something I didn’t recognize. Not a smell

of my house or of my family or of my people. And I walked into the kitchen and that’s

where I saw it. There. Him. A Man. Sat at my table. The one I made. Smoking a cigarette

with one foot on the chair. He had just eaten something and the plate was pushed away

from him. He heard me come in and he turned and looked at me, looked right at me. He

almost smiled. And then I thought he was going to get up—I could feel a scream rising in

my throat. But he didn’t get up, he turned away from me, leaned back in the chair, pulled

on the cigarette, closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head. He turned away from

me. As if I wasn’t there. And I quietly walked out of the room. In my chair. My plate. My

table. My knife. My house. It was as if I didn’t exist—as if I had never been born. A

catastrophe. (Khalil 432-433).

This scene echoes Hammer’s remark about Palestinian cultural identity that: “The idea of home, or the feeling of being at home, centers on the image of the house as a physical space.”

(183). By remembering those material objects, the father emphasizes his sense of dispossession and points at what Palestinian refugees once had, and what they had come to lose. In a similar way, we see other members of the family, throughout the play, cling to personal items that hold a special meaning to them. The grandmother, for example, always keeps a photograph of her 65

husband, who is implied to have been imprisoned and killed years ago, along with his old gun. In

Hammer’s view, “These memories define Palestinian identity as they remind the survivors of the loss and pain they have experienced and of the hostility of the outside world” (185).

In its portrayal of the Palestinian family, Plan D challenges the wrongful representations

of Palestinians in dominant narratives—not by highlighting these representations but by simply

presenting Palestinians as people of peace and dignity. In an interview with WhatsOnStage,

Khalil points out that “all too often in news reports Palestinians are shown as angry, wailing

people burying their dead,” which is why she was keen on piecing together a story that properly

represents Palestinians during the 1948 Nakba (“Hannah Khalil”). By re-introducing these

historical events through a Palestinian perspective, Plan D calls attention to the terrifying

circumstances, imposed by Israeli settler-colonialism, under which Palestinians then had to flee

their homes and the immediate effects of this forced displacement on Palestinian families. The

play also exemplifies how Palestinian playwrights in the diaspora relate to the cultural heritage

of their ancestral homeland by reconnecting with the past. In dramatizing the 1948 Palestinian

experience, Khalil re-affirms the Palestinian narrative as well as her ties with Palestine.

Conclusion

As two productions of Palestinian theatre in the diaspora, Tennis in Nablus and Plan D

build on personal stories and testimonials to recount historical events that are often depicted

otherwise. By doing so, Khalidi and Khalil attempt to expose the false Israeli narrative and bring

to light the circumstances that Palestinians had to experience during the British occupation

leading to the establishment of the colonial state of Israel. As I argue, these dramatic

interpretations of Palestinian history allow the two playwrights to demonstrate ties with their

ancestral homeland, and therefore re-affirm their Palestinian identity—whereas Khalidi 66

addresses the Palestinian struggle against the British-Zionist atrocities that preceded the creation of Israel, Khalil centers her plot around the events of 1948 in relation to how Palestinian families experienced loss and trauma.

67

CONCLUSION

In A Palestinian Theatre: Experiences of Resistance, Sumud and Re-Affirmation, I have

explored some of the ways in which Palestinian theatre-makers make use of theatre as a critical

tool for expressing their identity. As I have sought to demonstrate, the Palestinian experience is

highly variable; thus, its dramatic manifestation reflects a multiplicity of techniques that require

a careful consideration of the socio-political reality under which they have been developed. Most

of the existing studies focus on analyzing Palestinian cultural production in relation to the Israeli-

Palestinian conflict, and how theatre companies in the West Bank use non-violent tactics in order

to react to the political circumstance of their time. Their efforts were my focus in Chapter 1.

From that point, I set out to expand on this creative practice of resistance by including a

consideration of plays and performances from Gaza Strip, and the Palestinian Diaspora.

To that end, in Chapter 2. I sought to underline how Palestinian theatre-makers in Gaza

Strip focus on reflecting the dire social, political, and economic conditions of life under the

Palestinian national division and the consequent Israeli-Egyptian blockade. For example, Ibhar’s production of Al-Habl Al-Sori highlights the daily struggles of impoverished Palestinians in view of how nationalist organizations prioritize their political agendas over the interest of their people.

While stressing the need for national unity, it calls upon the Palestinian society to remain resilient (or, maintain sumud) in the face of all adversities. On the other hand, as explicated in

Chapter 3, Palestinian practitioners living in the diaspora seek to connect with their ancestral homeland by weaving together stories that draw on real-life traumatic experiences of Palestinians affected by the violent birth of the colonial state of Israel. In doing so, Ismail Khalidi (Tennis in

Nablus) and Hannah Khalil (Plan D) attempt to creatively subvert the false Israeli narratives on the history of Palestine within a US/UK context. 68

This thesis has also attempted to briefly track the history of theatre practice in Palestine.

In the introduction, I review the dominant existing narratives on the Palestinian efforts to

establish a modern theatrical movement after 1948, in light of the ever-changing political

circumstances. As I argue, these historical accounts mostly mention performing troupes in the

West Bank. Of note is Balalin, whose work in 1970s laid a solid foundation for the

professionalization of theatre in Palestine—one of the founding members (Francois Abu Salem)

later launched El-Hakawati Theatre. In order to supplement the lacking historical context, I have

included, in Chapter 2, a section on the development of theatre activities in Gaza Strip. This is

also to acknowledge the work of theatre-makers in the Strip. It is my hope that future studies will further address the lack of scholarship on this topic.

In sum, then, this thesis offers an account of Palestinian theatre by contextualizing the

Palestinian experience in three related contexts—the West Bank, Gaza Strip, and the Diaspora.

Significantly, I maintain that this project is not a conclusive study of the themes and ideas explored in each chapter. The socio-political circumstances surrounding the Palestinian society

are always shifting, and so is its cultural production. Therefore, I introduce this thesis as a

modest contribution to an area of study that remains vastly underexplored and undertheorized.

69

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