Director; Sabrina Dittus (Palestine/Germany). Year of Release: 2016
Gaza beach. People are swimming in the sea. A woman in a headscarf walks down the beach as she tells us in a voiceover how much she loves Gaza. She says that she can go crazy, but when she’s working she knows how to be serious. She’s a little nervous, like it’s a job interview. The camera quickly cuts between different young men and women – singing at a writing desk, in kit on a football field, sat in the theatre, or just sitting and chatting in a Simpsons t-shirt.
Welcome to the 7 initial performers of the Gaza Monologues, a play which dramatised the words of Gaza’s children following one of Israel’s many bombing raids in 2008/9. The play has been performed in over 80 cities in 40 countries, but not by the original actors, who are rarely permitted to leave Gaza. The two crossings out of Gaza – Erez in the North and Rafah in the South – are strongly guarded by the Israeli and Egyptian armies on the other side.
As each actor is introduced to us, we are shown their year of birth. Each was born in 1995 or 1996, making them around 20 at the time of filming. They have all been at the theatre since their early teens, and each appreciates the opportunity that it gives them for recreation and self-expression. The theatre does not exist any more, having been flattened by Israeli bombs in 2018, long before the current genocidal wave which has destroyed most of Gaza.
One of the film’s main storylines involves the actors trying to reach a performance at the Third International Youth Festival in the ASHTAR theatre in Ramallah. They are overjoyed at the prospect of visiting part of their home country where they have never been before. Oppressive Israeli regulations mean that it Is easier for a Gazan to visit Europe than the West Bank. Almost all visa applications are rejected by the army which occupies their country.
This visit was organised by the rosa luxemburg stiftung, so the actors had help from the German government with their visa applications. Nonetheless, only 4 of the 7 visas are awarded. When they reach the border, one person is rejected. The border guard tells them that one of the others can come after all. This is the sort of randomness which Israel uses to add to the uncertainty where Palestinians are never sure which limited rights they will be allowed from one day to another.
The young actors marvel at the luxurious conditions which they experience in Ramallah – something which might cause wonder in any Westerner who has ever visited. It depends on your point of comparison. The West Bank has electricity, and not just for a couple of hours a day. It is not under permanent siege, at least not in the same way, and the inhabitants can drink water which does not poison them. There are attacks from settlers, sure, but not regular bombing raids.
At the same time, we are painfully aware that much of what we see on screen no longer exists. A friend from Gaza, who was in the cinema with me, spent the whole film identifying buildings which have since been flattened by Israeli bombs. The characters themselves say that the situation in 2016 Gaza may be bad, but they know after the next prolonged bombing raid, things may get worse. We are currently enduring this bombing raid, which may not be the last or the biggest.
The film finishes where it began, on Gaza beach. One of the actors tell it how it is: “they are saying on the news that we are going to have another war soon, and it’s going to be the most dangerous one, the hardest one ever. These are not exactly good news that you want to wake up and hear in the morning, so…” Her sentence hangs in the air as the end credits roll. If you have any sensitivity, you should weep at such helplessness imposed upon a population.
Anyone with an ounce of empathy should watch We Are Here with a mixture of sorrow and rage. The film shows us clearly that the devastation of Gaza did not begin after October 7th 2023. The prolonged terror and humiliation to which Palestinians have been subjected for decades provides the context to understand last year’s events. You can only deny a population any semblance of dignity for so long before they will try to break out of their prison and mete out retributive violence.
The desperation of everyday life in Gaza – even in 2016 – makes the day-to-day behaviour of the actors impressive, almost Saintly. They are aware of the desperation of their situation – they do live under the bombs, after all. And yet the remain good-natured, and excited about the limited opportunities that they are given to express their creativity. They are trying to live normal lives, presumably because facing their desperate situation would cause them to break down in grief.
The destruction of Gaza has been carried out by actual people, who have names and addresses. And some of these addresses are in Berlin. The German government has paid for many of the bombs which are raining down on Gaza. When the International Court of Justice ruled that Israel had a case to answer for genocide, Germany was one of the countries which responded by withdrawing UNRWA aid to suffering Gazans. My government is sponsoring barbarism.
We Are Here shows us that this barbarism is not new. For decades, Gazans have been denied a life which most Westerners take for granted. There are no more schools in Gaza, no more hospitals or theatres. There are few homes even. The film shows a situation which wasn’t quite as grim as it is now, but it was certainly should never be regarded as normal. To see the desperate lives that people were forced to live, and know that these were the good times is just heart rending.
We Are Here it invoked a rage in me which I hope that anyone with any sensitivity will share. Some things are more important than a comfortable evening in the cinema. You should go and see this film, but then ask yourself serious questions about why your government has sat by while this is happening and not just looked away but actively encouraged it to happen. When genocide is raging, you should not be silent.
CinePhil 