The festival, launched on 20 November by the Mashharawi Foundation for Cinema and Filmmakers Support, is part of a 30-day program of activities across Gaza.
Ten-year-old Lina Abu Hassan from Gaza City sat cross-legged on a worn mat in the shadow of the heavily damaged Rashad al-Shawa Cultural Centre, eyes glued to a large screen. Animated characters from Robin Hood raced across the forest canopy, their laughter and antics filling the hall.
For the first time in months, Lina laughed, loudly, freely, leaving behind, if only for a moment, painful memories of lost relatives, bombed streets, and a childhood disrupted by Israel’s genocidal war.
Last year, the Israeli army attacked Lina’s family’s home in the Tel al-Hawa neighbourhood, killing her father and older brother.
She presently lives with her mother and younger sister in a makeshift home in the city, struggling amid Gaza’s dire conditions.
“For a short while, I could forget everything and just feel happy […] I felt like a normal child again, laughing, playing, and imagining new stories. Being here reminded me that life can still have beauty, even after so much sadness,” she told The New Arab.
“I never imagined I could laugh like this again,” Lina added. “Here, I feel like I have friends, like I am part of something bigger than the rubble outside. I feel alive.”
Eight-year-old Omar al-Saleh was also happy this day. His mother was killed by an Israeli airstrike two years ago.
“When the festival started, I felt my heart lightened. I wished it would never end,” he told TNA. “For a moment, I could forget the fear and imagine a world where I am safe and free. I wish my friends and cousins could see this too, and we could laugh together.”
“Sometimes I pretend I am the hero of the story, saving others and exploring forests,” he added. “It makes me feel like I can breathe again, even if just for a little while.”
The festival, launched on 20 November by the Mashharawi Foundation for Cinema and Filmmakers Support, is part of a 30-day program of activities across Gaza, including screenings, drawing workshops, traditional music, and performances in refugee camps.
Its goal is to restore fragments of childhood stolen by years of war, displacement, destruction, and hunger.
“The activities are designed to take children into another world, far removed from the violence and insecurity they have faced over the past two years,” Mustafa al-Nabih, director of the festival’s technical committee, told TNA.
Beyond films, the program includes games, drawing, clown performances, and music, all intended to provide psychological relief.
“The effects of trauma on children can be heavier than the trauma itself […] They experience emptiness, loneliness, and loss, which requires careful support to prevent long-term consequences on their lives,” al-Nabih said.
The festival also encourages children to create their own stories. In small workshops, participants write short scripts, draw storyboard frames, and even try their hand at directing.
“It is amazing to see how imaginative the children are,” he added. “They want to tell stories about heroes, friendship, and hope. It is a reminder that even in the darkest times, creativity survives.”
Wissam Yassin, a Palestinian journalist and festival organiser, emphasised the symbolic importance of the event.
“We aim to bring joy to children who have grown up too fast because of war […] We want to return them to a world of stories, dreams, and imagination, beyond the surrounding destruction,” she said.
She added that the festival also serves a broader social purpose: reminding adults that childhood, play, and cultural expression are essential rights, even in times of crisis.
“In Gaza, survival often takes priority over imagination, but children cannot grow into healthy adults without joy. Cultural life is essential for mental health, identity, and hope,” Yassin explained.
Organising cultural events in Gaza was not easy. Electricity is scarce, transport is difficult, and many cultural centres remain in ruins.
“We are working amidst rubble, without basic tools or equipment like flashlights,” Yassin said. “Yet, the festival sends a message: the people of Gaza love life. Cultural and artistic activity will continue, even in the hardest times.”
At the Rashad al-Shawa Cultural Centre, walls riddled with bullet holes and ceilings scarred by past airstrikes bear witness to the conflict, yet inside, the atmosphere is vibrant.
Children scatter across the hall, drawing colourful pictures inspired by animated characters, laughing and shouting, while volunteer performers dress as clowns and play traditional music.
“I love drawing. I wish I could do this every day. Here, I forget all the noise outside. It feels like a real home,” Gaza-based six-year-old Rami Khalil told TNA.
The human toll of war in Gaza is staggering. According to Palestinian authorities, more than 20,000 children have been killed in the latest Israeli war, while thousands more were injured, with many suffering amputations or requiring urgent medical care.
Health authorities warned that disrupted education, famine, and the forced acceleration of childhood will have long-term psychological consequences.
“Children live with daily pressures,” Rawan Ahmed, a psychologist in Gaza City, told TNA, saying, “Many have not eaten properly for years, and some have never had new clothes.”
“These conditions place enormous stress on children and families and heighten the need for continuous psychological support, especially when health facilities are destroyed or understaffed,” she added.
At the festival, psychologists and volunteers move through the crowds, observing children, providing comfort, and gently guiding the more withdrawn participants.
“Some children are shy or scared at first, but films, games, and drawing help them open up. For a child who has seen bombs, laughter becomes a revolutionary act,” Ahmed explained.
The festival is more than entertainment. It is an act of cultural resistance, a declaration that Gaza’s children will not surrender their childhoods to war and destruction.
“Art and cinema are not luxuries here; they are lifelines. They remind children that life, beauty, and laughter still exist, even in the midst of destruction,” Ahmed concluded.
For Lina, Omar, and the other children, it is a reminder that childhood, though fragile, is not entirely lost and that, even amid destruction, laughter can flourish.
“I want to come here every week,” Lina remarked. “I want to watch films, draw, and laugh. I want to be a child, even if the world around me is broken.”
For Omar, the message is equally clear: “Even in Gaza, even after everything, we can still smile. We can still dream. And we can still be children.”
