Gaza Sound Man (2025) Movie Script
1
(Ominous music)
(Drone flying over)
(Gaza street sounds)
(Drone continues)
(Wind blows)
(Sounds of children)
Oh God! (Man cries out with grief)
(Traffic sounds)
(Fire crackles)
There are sounds that
we feel in our hearts.
and sounds that we all dread.
(Ominous music)
And then there are sounds
that were forced to hear
(Horse and cart sounds)
In Gaza, these sounds are everywhere.
We hear so many things
but the world doesnt hear them
and we know its
choosing to turn a deaf ear.
The sounds of Gaza evoke memories
of places, dreams, and hopes.
(Distant siren)
Sound is more than just a recording.
It tells the stories of people
whose lives are transformed by war.
(Sounds of children)
(Droning sounds)
I used to wake up to Ahmeds
voice the bread seller.
He would wake me up early.
I would hear sellers calling out
children laughing on their way to school
(Rickshaw honking)
and the sweet song of birds.
"Fresh, warm bread for your belly!"
(Water dripping)
(Coffee pouring)
Now, everything has fallen silent.
The war has silenced them all.
Mornings have become sombre and still.
The birds no longer sing.
Im Mohammed Hiya, a
sound engineer from Gaza.
I'm 33 years old.
Im from Al-Miasma
Al-Kabira in Gaza Subdistrict.
The first thing I ever recorded
was the sound of a birth.
The sound of a new life.
I recorded the moment
of the babys first cry
The first time he drew breath.
Capturing that first breath felt surreal.
The sound level
registers as having zero volume
But with the first cry,
the sound wave moves.
That first breath felt like
the start of a journey.
The sound of that cry
marked the beginning of a life -
a life that has now been silenced in Gaza.
(Baby crying)
(Dramatic music)
(Crying continues)
(Explosions)
(Phone notification)
How are you? Hope you're all well.
How's everything? What are you up to?
I miss you all very much.
Thank God, I'm alright.
All's well, though my feet ache a bit.
We hope to return to Gaza soon.
Hopefully, Gaza will
return better than before
and we'll be celebrating together again.
We shall meet once more.
You are dearly missed.
(Dramatic music)
All his life, Khalil
has dreamt of becoming an engineer.
When Khalil was in the ICU in the hospital
he was barely conscious and I asked him
What do you want to be when you grow up?
He said, "I want to be an engineer."
He hung onto that dream
still longing to be an engineer
even while unconscious in the ICU.
I hope he becomes the greatest engineer.
We cant erase the sound we heard
the day Khalil was injured.
There was the usual noise of the missiles.
But the day Khalil was injured
we heard a different sound.
So much was happening at once
and the noise was deafening.
I remember the rush to the hospital.
And listening to my recordings is so hard.
Ive recorded so many things.
The sounds of ambulances
people screaming, crying, shouting.
The sounds of people in pain.
Ambulances, doctors, nurses.
Journalists.
There are so many sounds!
But there is one specific
sound I try to focus on.
And thats the sound of sorrow.
Its incredibly hard to explain.
I try to focus on what
lies behind the sound
and understand its meaning.
I try to understand what happened.
What provoked this person?
What made him express these
emotional sounds in that moment?
Then I realise these are not sounds
I should record, and I leave.
No, these sounds carry a story.
These sounds carry a narrative.
These sounds are packed with emotions.
(Crowd gathered)
He still hasn't experienced life yet.
He shouldn't have to suffer or be hurt.
They're all children on the street!
-Theyre all children!
-Oh, my love
Oh, my dear brother!
I wish it were me instead of you!
Oh, dear brother!
I wish it were me instead of you!
Enough, Mum, I promise he's fine.
I swear he's breathing and alive.
This is all that matters!
Oh God, don't take Khalil away from us.
Oh God, please save Khalils life.
Please, God, protect our Khalil!
Khalil is the youngest.
There are no siblings born between us.
He was born right after me.
Khalil was kind and always with us.
We loved each other and played together.
We shared everything.
We used to tell each other everything.
Khalil is our friend at home
he is not just our brother.
Suddenly we were on
the verge of losing him.
Of course, it was difficult for us.
(Dramatic music)
Why do so many emotions
resurface so suddenly?
When I focus, I realise
that with one sound
the very essence of Gaza
can change in a second.
It can turn laughter into heartbreak.
I try to dig deeper
thats when I uncover profound sorrow
because it's not just sound Im recording.
He was scrolling on his phone at night.
We told him to wear his glasses.
He was searching for
them but couldnt find them.
He remembered leaving
them at the barber shop.
He woke up early to go and fetch them.
Then he had to come
home to change his clothes
so we could go to my sister's house.
We heard the sound of a drone missile
and it was deafening.
Then we saw children running towards us
telling us Khalil was lying on the ground.
We rushed to see who was
lying on the ground.
Khalil had gone to the
barbers and was coming back
so we thought it wasn't him.
But we found Khalil lying there.
He was covered in blood
and his feet were badly injured.
When we saw Khalil lying there like that
my mother fainted next to him.
She couldn't bear it.
I've never experienced
such a day in my life.
I had never heard these sounds before.
I've never lived moments like this.
It was as if people's grief
was expressed through their screams.
We haven't eaten yet.
I woke up at dawn to pray
and have some cookies.
Khalil's smile carried so much feeling.
He was always smiling and laughing.
We all used to laugh whenever he did.
The war stole his laughter and his dreams.
He was just a child.
He was innocent and joyful.
The war snatched his joy away
and deprived him of his legs.
Now, only God knows
how he'll live without his legs.
(Dramatic music)
(Deep breathing)
-May he rest in peace!
-He is a martyr.
Oh, Mum, your son's a martyr!
Ive recorded many sounds in my life
but the moment of separation or death
comes with a feeling of deep shock.
A breath that suddenly stops.
The volume drops to zero.
Then crying and screaming
and a profound state of sadness.
Where's Mum? Come, Mum! Come!
(Prayer at funeral)
I can't hear all these sounds.
They become distant.
Among the noises, theres a sound...
that is non-existent.
It's the sound of silence.
(Wind blowing)
(Dramatic music)
(Drone passes over)
(Poignant music)
In the displacement camp
there are many overlapping voices
and stories from countless people.
I listen and try to break them down
noticing the different accents.
Some are from Beit
Hanoun, others from Jabalia.
Some are from Shuja'iyya,
and others from Rimal.
Whenever I lift the microphone
and let it capture the sounds
it gathers the thoughts
and hopes of people in the camp.
(Radio)
One is waiting for a ceasefire
agreement over the radio.
One is checking if their son is in prison.
Others race to get some water.
A woman is mourning
her child who is missing
or possibly dead.
These are the sounds echoing in the camp
crowded with tents.
In the end, I ask them
how's life in a tent?
(Scraping)
-Life in a tent?
-Yes.
(Scraping continues)
What can I say about the
tent? There are no words for it
It's difficult for us to get used to it.
Even if we lived in it for another century
it's hard to adapt to such a situation.
What can I tell you about the tent?
It is certainly harrowing.
(Scarping continues)
Tent life is no match for our past life
when we lived in a house with our family.
(Sizzling food)
(Food preparation)
-Who's there?
-I need a lighter.
This lighter has been passed
around the whole camp.
A lighter costs around three dollars.
-It is pricey.
-It is expensive to refill it.
I've got two lighters that need a refill.
We are living off these stoves.
This is the only stove we have here.
-We used to have a kitchen stove -Oh yes!
-And a barbecue grill.
-Right!
Gas for the barbecue
was the most expensive.
We don't have those things nowadays.
Now, you go to the market to buy gas
-You must register your name.
-Yes, right.
Then you pray that your turn comes
before you get killed or die.
There is comfort in death, my dear.
Right.
In these dire times, death is comfort.
Come on, close the door.
(Busy street sounds)
In tents, privacy is non-existent
as theyre all crowded together.
For example, if you speak with your wife
or with your daughters or parents
your neighbour hears you.
You and your neighbour
are barely two metres apart.
You are only separated
by a piece of leather or fabric.
If a child cries
you hear it in the tent.
If a couple is talking, you can hear them.
Its unavoidable.
We all wish for the war to end
so everyone can return to their
homes, even if its just a single room
or even if the house is
damaged or destroyed.
We are willing to live in a single room.
We are willing to fix it and stay there.
But now we are forced to live in tents.
This isnt our life, nor our traditions,
nor our customs. This is not us.
(Plane passing over)
What does a missile sound like?
What about the sound of
the cars? Are you afraid of
the sound of missiles?
-Yes
-Really?
-Yes, I'm afraid.
Are you afraid of the sound of missiles?
-The sound of a missile?
-Yes.
What about the sound of a plane?
Do you know what planes sound like?
What?
Does it sound like this?
Or does it sound like this?
No, it sounds like this.
-Do you like planes?
-No.
Do you like winter?
And swings?
-And playgrounds?
-Yes!
-Yes, I love them.
-What do you like?
The swings
and the playground.
-Do you like the sea?
-Yes.
-Really? Are you sure?
-Yes.
What?
Do you hear the sound of the plane?
-The sound of a missile?
-The sound of a missile?
-Are you scared?
-Hide here, come!
Come on, hide. Hide from the missile.
Hug me.
Zaid, are you afraid of the missile?
-Does it scare you?
-Don't be afraid.
You're a hero!
You are a hero!
(Radio)
These sounds were recorded before the war.
I recorded them in a school
in a park
and even by the sea.
I recorded their playtime and joy.
But today, the sound is different.
I dont need headphones to hear them
because I am like them.
The beautiful sounds I remember are fading
and being replaced by darker ones.
(Ambulance siren)
(Horse and cart wheels turn)
Usually, after every filming session
I organise my equipment
and charge the batteries
because they are part of me.
I also take some time to rest.
However, during the
war, this is impossible.
I am literally threatened by death
just like the people I record.
Nothing protects us in war.
(Missile approaches)
(Explosion)
(Panicking crowd)
(Ambulance siren)
(Siren continues)
It all happens in a split second.
You hear a missile
then comes the explosion.
Everything changes.
It is a moment of horror.
The sky darkens, and dust fills the air.
You hear the sound of stones flying
and people screaming.
Can you imagine all these sounds
happening in a split second?
Most of the recordings at these moments
depict the sound of people talking,
thinking they were safe
when suddenly they hear an explosion
and everything changes.
If that second passes
and you are still able to hear sounds
then you are alive.
Oh my God! Oh my God!
My children!
Oh God!
Calm down. Calm down.
Calm down. Calm down.
Come on, calm down.
I don't want to calm down!
I don't want to calm down!
I want my children!
I want my children! Oh God!
(Excavator digs through debris)
(Debris tumbling)
Call her name. It's Saida.
I can hear her voice.
What did you see? Did you see her?
-Is there anyone?
-Yes, there's a lady.
-Did you talk to her?
-Her name is Saida.
-She has children.
-How is she?
There's a fridge over her.
When we get to the site of a bombed house
we record the voices of
people under the rubble
and we try to call them.
I try to focus as much as possible.
There are loud noises around me
but I try to stay focused
to see if anyone is still alive
or if someone is moving underneath
because we can also hear their movements.
People trapped under the rubble yelled
"I'm alive!"
"Take me out! Pull me out. I am here!"
"I am near the kitchen; get me out!"
"Give me water. I want to breathe!"
"My son's here. My wife's there."
"My brother is here."
"Dig here; I am under the pillar."
Im over the pillar, under the cupboard.
At that moment, I wonder
what they were doing before the strike.
What were they talking about?
Were they drinking, eating, laughing?
Was the father playing with his children?
Was the mother calling her daughter?
What was the topic of their discussion?
It's a dangerous mix.
(Footsteps on dust)
(Wind blowing)
(Street sounds)
(Ambulance siren)
(Crickets chirping)
(Ambulance siren)
(Fire crackles)
(Crackling continues)
(Emotional song)
(Song continues)
Scene 123, track two.
Take six.
He got into the biggest trouble ever.
You all say that in the beginning.
Go now! I swear I will come after you!
(Song continues)
(Market bustle)
(Dramatic music)
(Traffic, honking)
(More traffic)
Gaza before the war.
Without these recordings
I would have forgotten it.
Everything was beautiful.
The sound of people, cars honking
the sound of driving and the sea.
Even the sound of laundry flapping.
The sounds of the camp, the window
and the door as it closed.
Gaza was wonderful.
Its sounds were really vibrant.
Its not the most beautiful place on earth
but it has unique and beautiful sounds.
I never recorded anything outside of Gaza.
I've never once left this place.
(Exciting music)
(Music continues)
(Dull missile thump)
(Missile sound)
(Distant explosions)
Nighttime in Gaza is different.
You hear artillery, bombing, and jets.
But the people are completely silent.
They go to sleep fearing death.
We hear these sounds intermittently.
But the monster that never leaves us alone
is the drone.
It's become part of our lives.
There isn't a single sound I can record
without the drone
humming in the background.
Even now, as were recording
you can hear the drone.
Its become a track in the sound library
or maybe the main track
in all of our projects.
It haunts us day and night.
(Drone flying over)
(Small trucks passing)
People used to walk in the street here.
(Footsteps on dust)
I used to gather my equipment
and listen to people as I walked.
(Footsteps continue)
I used to come down this street
and hear lots of sounds.
(Pensive music)
(Car approaching)
In this street
Oh God...
How many dreams have been crushed?
(Drone flying over)
(Dull missile thud)
(Drone)
(Street sounds)
(Whistling)
(Rhythmic handclapping)
(Whistling/clapping continues)
Come on. Raise your hands!
From the left to the right! Come on!
Repeat after me out loud...
Come on, come on, come on!
Let's play together!
(Children chanting)
Not a moment passes without bombing.
The blasts were right above our heads.
The Israelis were besieging us.
They were shooting at us with their tanks
and throwing bombs at the houses.
Our house was bombed
on the first day of the war.
My home was my happy place.
I wish the war would end
so we can return to our home.
(Children playing)
Did you bring toys from your house?
No, because we had to evacuate quickly.
We're lucky we brought our clothes.
Did you have a special toy?
-Yes.
-What was it?
I had a doll.
I wanted to name it Leila or Louli.
(Children playing)
(Footsteps on sand)
One day, I recorded the sound of footsteps
as people walked along the corniche
and I recorded the sound
of a marathon by the beach.
But today, I recorded the footsteps and
the screeching tyres
of people fleeing death, seeking refuge.
These steps were heavy,
filled with exhaustion.
(Car horn)
(Dull missile thud)
(Rickshaw passes by)
Hello. Yes? Hello
Where exactly?
In a kiosk? There's nothing there.
There? Oh, there it is. It's alright now.
-Hey there, man.
-Welcome!
How are you?
-How are you, Ghazal? All good?
-I am fine.
-Good.
-Is everything okay?
All's good.
-Why are you here?
-We left Khan Yunis.
It wasn't easy finding the address.
-The family is displaced.
-Tell me, Ghazal.
-How is the displacement?
-It's hard.
-What are you doing?
-I'm selling pastries.
You're selling pastries? Are they good?
-Try them! Enjoy.
-Thank you!
Sit down.
-How are you?
-I'm good, doing well.
What happened when you went to get water?
They fired six missiles,
one after the other.
At that moment, the sound of missiles
completely shattered my heart.
I heard the first rocket
then the second, and the third.
Then, I saw people mangled in front of me.
I saw blood gushing onto the ground
and buildings being bombed.
It was truly hard to endure.
I zoned out.
I was petrified.
I expected to be bombed at any moment.
I was heading back to my parents' house.
I left the stroller and gallons of water.
I ran, directionless.
(Droning music)
I used to wake up, wash my face
get dressed and have breakfast.
Then I'd go to school.
Now, I wake up and arrange my things.
But the first thing of
all, I will go get water.
From dusk until dawn
I constantly think about water.
I get some whenever I can.
We were happy in Gaza. But now...
fear has wrecked our
hearts; we never rest.
We think about water all day.
We don't get a single second of rest.
It's as if we live in constant fear.
(Drone flying over)
We went to get water, but it had run out.
We face the same issue every time.
(Creaking wheelchair)
At school, they sometimes
brought in clowns.
They would bring us some joy.
But now, no one comes to play with us.
No one comes to make us happy
or to bring some peace into our hearts
or help us forget the war for a bit.
When the clowns used to come
I would wait for them
with great excitement.
Whenever they said the
the clowns were coming
I would wait impatiently.
I was ready to be happy
to play and laugh
to forget a bit about the war.
When we used to hear the missiles
my parents would calm me down a bit.
But now, I understand how missiles work.
I feel older than my age.
(Serving customers)
(Pouring water from container)
At any moment, while we are talking
while we are speaking now
they might bomb us.
I think that one day I will wake up
and my parents will be dead.
I could lose my family, my mum and dad.
It would be over.
My life would become meaningless.
I want the war to end.
That is my wish.
I had dreams before in Gaza
but they are long gone now.
Now, my wish is for the war to end.
(Honking)
(Pensive music)
(Children playing football)
At kindergarten and school graduations
I used to enjoy listening to wishes.
Some wished to become doctors,
others engineers, teachers, or pilots.
Today, their wishes have changed.
Even their lifestyles have altered.
The war has forced them to mature quickly.
They act older than their age.
Their tears fall down their cheeks faster.
Do you want to sing? Come on then.
(Child singing)
(Singing continues...)
(Singing continues)
(Wind blows)
(Children chatting)
(Footsteps on dust)
(Car passing)
(Birdsong)
(Distant traffic sounds)
(Horse and cart passing)
(Street seller)
(Street hubbub)
(Hubbub continues)
(Horse cantering down street)
(Scooping lentils)
(Pouring food)
(Pensive music)
(Ambulance siren)
(Debris crunching under shoes)
Hello, how are you, grandma?
-How are you?
-I'm fine.
-All's good?
-All is well, and you?
All's great, grandma.
-This falafel smells like Gaza.
-Really?
I swear it smells just like Gaza
I swear it does!
Is this from Sousse?
My aunt made eggplants
with fried potatoes.
-And Shakshuka.
-Great!
Shakshuka!
You taught us how to cook it.
You know a Palestinian womans dowry?
Yes.
It should exceed $50,000.
Why?
They know how to manage everything.
They prepare feasts with just tomatoes.
They can turn them into
stews, salads, anything.
-True.
-May God bless you.
They make fake Maqluba.
They can also make fake Fatteh
and even cook potatoes without meat.
They can do anything.
-But city women!
-What about them?
They prefer everything to be prepared.
-Really?
-Yes.
-They want delivery.
-Delivery?
It's called delivery.
(Laughing)
(Stirring frying pan)
(Fire crackling)
(Missile approaches and thuds)
Now, what about the drones?
-We sleep to their humming.
-Oh, really?
-I sleep like a child.
-It's like a lullaby.
Like a child being rocked to sleep.
We sleep and wake up to their sound
the sound of drones.
Give me your broom
so I can clean the house.
A broom?
This tool captures every sound, grandma.
I held it yesterday
Its been a while.
When I held it, I felt melancholic.
You felt melancholic?
I saw them cooking meat in the pot
then my heart started throbbing
because there were
people who wanted to eat.
What about those from the North
who ended up in Deir el Balah?
How will they all fit in?
It's tiny.
Where do we go?
Where should we go?
What did you like to do most
before the war?
What was it?
Did you used to sit here?
-Yes.
-Sipping some tea.
I used to pray Duha (Sunrise
time prayer) and go out.
When it was noon,
I used to come back,
pray at noon, have lunch, and then sleep.
-I was free.
-What about the afternoon?
I would pray in the
afternoon, then go out.
My daughter-in-law
would make me a cup of tea
with some seeds or
ma'amoul (traditional cookies).
-Do you have teeth to eat seeds?
-Yes, I do!
I do have teeth.
-May you all return home.
-Hopefully.
-Don't be afraid, my dear.
-Yes, hopefully.
Oh, Grandma!
We really miss Gaza.
I miss it, too.
I couldn't go to my brother's or niece's.
One of my nieces lost 11 people.
People went north and were killed.
Most people have died.
They died from hunger.
They begged for something to eat.
They begged for a bite of food.
There is no more bread.
There is no bread or flour.
A kilogram of flour costs $14.
How will we afford that?
Nobody is working or getting paid.
How would they pay?
Do they sell their organs? It won't work.
No one is helping to get a bag of flour
for these elderly people.
Nobody is helping anyone.
Things will get better.
(Drone passing)
-May God bless us.
-May God bless us.
(Drone continues)
-May it become better.
-Hopefully.
May God give you health
and grant you strength
against those who oppress you. Amen.
May you return to your children safe.
May God bless your children,
your daughters, wives, and loved ones
and every person out there.
Oh God, have mercy. (Dramatic music)
I want to record the sounds of Gaza.
The sounds of my city
The sound of the call to prayers...
The sounds of the markets...
The sound of sellers
and children playing in the streets.
The sound of people shouting.
The sound of my mother
my sisters and my brothers.
The sound of the people we lost.
I want to record the sound of the sea.
(Ocean waves break gently on the beach)
(Waves continue)
(Baby crying)
(Crying continues)
Her mother got pregnant
the second month into the war.
She was pregnant throughout the war.
She moved neighbourhoods a lot.
How many times has she been displaced?
She was displaced 12 times.
She passed through many checkpoints
and fell more than once.
She carried heavy weights
of more than 20 kilograms on her back
just to get here
as she passed through the checkpoints.
She finally cried! She cried!
He went to the barber to get his glasses.
He just went to get his glasses.
He was bombed in the street.
I'm living through memories.
I keep watching videos of Khalil with us.
We always took photos and videos of him.
We were happy he was with us.
We took many photos of him on our phones.
Today, we live with these memories
of our Khalil.
I really want to see him now.
I hope he gets better than before.
I wish he could play with kids again
like all children his age.
Dad, this is a voice message from Khalil.
How are you?
How are you?
What's up, Dad? How's everything?
I miss you.
Send him a kiss.
I miss my sister in Gaza.
We talk daily, and it breaks my heart
when she tells me they have no food
or water in Gaza, and there's famine.
She gets displaced daily.
She moves from one place to another.
The situation is really
dire here, but also in Gaza.
I used to love sitting with my family
in my neighbourhood, amongst my people.
Today, those moments are long gone
and I yearn for my previous life
especially when I hear these sounds.
I'm also a football player.
I used to love the football field.
The crowd was cheering,
and the stadium was noisy.
Unfortunately, we miss these things.
Today, I deeply wish
to play football for a couple of minutes.
(Haunting music)
Can you hear the sound of jets?
(Drone passing)
During the war
I recorded many sounds
and listened to many stories.
Our voice in Gaza is loud.
Some have tried to mute us,
refusing to listen to our voice.
But our voices will endure
and we will carry on living...
(Pensive music)
(Drone passing)
(Distant explosions)
(Ambulance siren)
(Drone continues)
(Missile thud)
(Ambient music)
(Car drives by)
(Drone continues)
(Missile approaches
followed by dull thuds)
(Thuds continue)
(Drone continues)
(Intense music crescendos)
(Missile thuds)
(Ominous music)
(Drone flying over)
(Gaza street sounds)
(Drone continues)
(Wind blows)
(Sounds of children)
Oh God! (Man cries out with grief)
(Traffic sounds)
(Fire crackles)
There are sounds that
we feel in our hearts.
and sounds that we all dread.
(Ominous music)
And then there are sounds
that were forced to hear
(Horse and cart sounds)
In Gaza, these sounds are everywhere.
We hear so many things
but the world doesnt hear them
and we know its
choosing to turn a deaf ear.
The sounds of Gaza evoke memories
of places, dreams, and hopes.
(Distant siren)
Sound is more than just a recording.
It tells the stories of people
whose lives are transformed by war.
(Sounds of children)
(Droning sounds)
I used to wake up to Ahmeds
voice the bread seller.
He would wake me up early.
I would hear sellers calling out
children laughing on their way to school
(Rickshaw honking)
and the sweet song of birds.
"Fresh, warm bread for your belly!"
(Water dripping)
(Coffee pouring)
Now, everything has fallen silent.
The war has silenced them all.
Mornings have become sombre and still.
The birds no longer sing.
Im Mohammed Hiya, a
sound engineer from Gaza.
I'm 33 years old.
Im from Al-Miasma
Al-Kabira in Gaza Subdistrict.
The first thing I ever recorded
was the sound of a birth.
The sound of a new life.
I recorded the moment
of the babys first cry
The first time he drew breath.
Capturing that first breath felt surreal.
The sound level
registers as having zero volume
But with the first cry,
the sound wave moves.
That first breath felt like
the start of a journey.
The sound of that cry
marked the beginning of a life -
a life that has now been silenced in Gaza.
(Baby crying)
(Dramatic music)
(Crying continues)
(Explosions)
(Phone notification)
How are you? Hope you're all well.
How's everything? What are you up to?
I miss you all very much.
Thank God, I'm alright.
All's well, though my feet ache a bit.
We hope to return to Gaza soon.
Hopefully, Gaza will
return better than before
and we'll be celebrating together again.
We shall meet once more.
You are dearly missed.
(Dramatic music)
All his life, Khalil
has dreamt of becoming an engineer.
When Khalil was in the ICU in the hospital
he was barely conscious and I asked him
What do you want to be when you grow up?
He said, "I want to be an engineer."
He hung onto that dream
still longing to be an engineer
even while unconscious in the ICU.
I hope he becomes the greatest engineer.
We cant erase the sound we heard
the day Khalil was injured.
There was the usual noise of the missiles.
But the day Khalil was injured
we heard a different sound.
So much was happening at once
and the noise was deafening.
I remember the rush to the hospital.
And listening to my recordings is so hard.
Ive recorded so many things.
The sounds of ambulances
people screaming, crying, shouting.
The sounds of people in pain.
Ambulances, doctors, nurses.
Journalists.
There are so many sounds!
But there is one specific
sound I try to focus on.
And thats the sound of sorrow.
Its incredibly hard to explain.
I try to focus on what
lies behind the sound
and understand its meaning.
I try to understand what happened.
What provoked this person?
What made him express these
emotional sounds in that moment?
Then I realise these are not sounds
I should record, and I leave.
No, these sounds carry a story.
These sounds carry a narrative.
These sounds are packed with emotions.
(Crowd gathered)
He still hasn't experienced life yet.
He shouldn't have to suffer or be hurt.
They're all children on the street!
-Theyre all children!
-Oh, my love
Oh, my dear brother!
I wish it were me instead of you!
Oh, dear brother!
I wish it were me instead of you!
Enough, Mum, I promise he's fine.
I swear he's breathing and alive.
This is all that matters!
Oh God, don't take Khalil away from us.
Oh God, please save Khalils life.
Please, God, protect our Khalil!
Khalil is the youngest.
There are no siblings born between us.
He was born right after me.
Khalil was kind and always with us.
We loved each other and played together.
We shared everything.
We used to tell each other everything.
Khalil is our friend at home
he is not just our brother.
Suddenly we were on
the verge of losing him.
Of course, it was difficult for us.
(Dramatic music)
Why do so many emotions
resurface so suddenly?
When I focus, I realise
that with one sound
the very essence of Gaza
can change in a second.
It can turn laughter into heartbreak.
I try to dig deeper
thats when I uncover profound sorrow
because it's not just sound Im recording.
He was scrolling on his phone at night.
We told him to wear his glasses.
He was searching for
them but couldnt find them.
He remembered leaving
them at the barber shop.
He woke up early to go and fetch them.
Then he had to come
home to change his clothes
so we could go to my sister's house.
We heard the sound of a drone missile
and it was deafening.
Then we saw children running towards us
telling us Khalil was lying on the ground.
We rushed to see who was
lying on the ground.
Khalil had gone to the
barbers and was coming back
so we thought it wasn't him.
But we found Khalil lying there.
He was covered in blood
and his feet were badly injured.
When we saw Khalil lying there like that
my mother fainted next to him.
She couldn't bear it.
I've never experienced
such a day in my life.
I had never heard these sounds before.
I've never lived moments like this.
It was as if people's grief
was expressed through their screams.
We haven't eaten yet.
I woke up at dawn to pray
and have some cookies.
Khalil's smile carried so much feeling.
He was always smiling and laughing.
We all used to laugh whenever he did.
The war stole his laughter and his dreams.
He was just a child.
He was innocent and joyful.
The war snatched his joy away
and deprived him of his legs.
Now, only God knows
how he'll live without his legs.
(Dramatic music)
(Deep breathing)
-May he rest in peace!
-He is a martyr.
Oh, Mum, your son's a martyr!
Ive recorded many sounds in my life
but the moment of separation or death
comes with a feeling of deep shock.
A breath that suddenly stops.
The volume drops to zero.
Then crying and screaming
and a profound state of sadness.
Where's Mum? Come, Mum! Come!
(Prayer at funeral)
I can't hear all these sounds.
They become distant.
Among the noises, theres a sound...
that is non-existent.
It's the sound of silence.
(Wind blowing)
(Dramatic music)
(Drone passes over)
(Poignant music)
In the displacement camp
there are many overlapping voices
and stories from countless people.
I listen and try to break them down
noticing the different accents.
Some are from Beit
Hanoun, others from Jabalia.
Some are from Shuja'iyya,
and others from Rimal.
Whenever I lift the microphone
and let it capture the sounds
it gathers the thoughts
and hopes of people in the camp.
(Radio)
One is waiting for a ceasefire
agreement over the radio.
One is checking if their son is in prison.
Others race to get some water.
A woman is mourning
her child who is missing
or possibly dead.
These are the sounds echoing in the camp
crowded with tents.
In the end, I ask them
how's life in a tent?
(Scraping)
-Life in a tent?
-Yes.
(Scraping continues)
What can I say about the
tent? There are no words for it
It's difficult for us to get used to it.
Even if we lived in it for another century
it's hard to adapt to such a situation.
What can I tell you about the tent?
It is certainly harrowing.
(Scarping continues)
Tent life is no match for our past life
when we lived in a house with our family.
(Sizzling food)
(Food preparation)
-Who's there?
-I need a lighter.
This lighter has been passed
around the whole camp.
A lighter costs around three dollars.
-It is pricey.
-It is expensive to refill it.
I've got two lighters that need a refill.
We are living off these stoves.
This is the only stove we have here.
-We used to have a kitchen stove -Oh yes!
-And a barbecue grill.
-Right!
Gas for the barbecue
was the most expensive.
We don't have those things nowadays.
Now, you go to the market to buy gas
-You must register your name.
-Yes, right.
Then you pray that your turn comes
before you get killed or die.
There is comfort in death, my dear.
Right.
In these dire times, death is comfort.
Come on, close the door.
(Busy street sounds)
In tents, privacy is non-existent
as theyre all crowded together.
For example, if you speak with your wife
or with your daughters or parents
your neighbour hears you.
You and your neighbour
are barely two metres apart.
You are only separated
by a piece of leather or fabric.
If a child cries
you hear it in the tent.
If a couple is talking, you can hear them.
Its unavoidable.
We all wish for the war to end
so everyone can return to their
homes, even if its just a single room
or even if the house is
damaged or destroyed.
We are willing to live in a single room.
We are willing to fix it and stay there.
But now we are forced to live in tents.
This isnt our life, nor our traditions,
nor our customs. This is not us.
(Plane passing over)
What does a missile sound like?
What about the sound of
the cars? Are you afraid of
the sound of missiles?
-Yes
-Really?
-Yes, I'm afraid.
Are you afraid of the sound of missiles?
-The sound of a missile?
-Yes.
What about the sound of a plane?
Do you know what planes sound like?
What?
Does it sound like this?
Or does it sound like this?
No, it sounds like this.
-Do you like planes?
-No.
Do you like winter?
And swings?
-And playgrounds?
-Yes!
-Yes, I love them.
-What do you like?
The swings
and the playground.
-Do you like the sea?
-Yes.
-Really? Are you sure?
-Yes.
What?
Do you hear the sound of the plane?
-The sound of a missile?
-The sound of a missile?
-Are you scared?
-Hide here, come!
Come on, hide. Hide from the missile.
Hug me.
Zaid, are you afraid of the missile?
-Does it scare you?
-Don't be afraid.
You're a hero!
You are a hero!
(Radio)
These sounds were recorded before the war.
I recorded them in a school
in a park
and even by the sea.
I recorded their playtime and joy.
But today, the sound is different.
I dont need headphones to hear them
because I am like them.
The beautiful sounds I remember are fading
and being replaced by darker ones.
(Ambulance siren)
(Horse and cart wheels turn)
Usually, after every filming session
I organise my equipment
and charge the batteries
because they are part of me.
I also take some time to rest.
However, during the
war, this is impossible.
I am literally threatened by death
just like the people I record.
Nothing protects us in war.
(Missile approaches)
(Explosion)
(Panicking crowd)
(Ambulance siren)
(Siren continues)
It all happens in a split second.
You hear a missile
then comes the explosion.
Everything changes.
It is a moment of horror.
The sky darkens, and dust fills the air.
You hear the sound of stones flying
and people screaming.
Can you imagine all these sounds
happening in a split second?
Most of the recordings at these moments
depict the sound of people talking,
thinking they were safe
when suddenly they hear an explosion
and everything changes.
If that second passes
and you are still able to hear sounds
then you are alive.
Oh my God! Oh my God!
My children!
Oh God!
Calm down. Calm down.
Calm down. Calm down.
Come on, calm down.
I don't want to calm down!
I don't want to calm down!
I want my children!
I want my children! Oh God!
(Excavator digs through debris)
(Debris tumbling)
Call her name. It's Saida.
I can hear her voice.
What did you see? Did you see her?
-Is there anyone?
-Yes, there's a lady.
-Did you talk to her?
-Her name is Saida.
-She has children.
-How is she?
There's a fridge over her.
When we get to the site of a bombed house
we record the voices of
people under the rubble
and we try to call them.
I try to focus as much as possible.
There are loud noises around me
but I try to stay focused
to see if anyone is still alive
or if someone is moving underneath
because we can also hear their movements.
People trapped under the rubble yelled
"I'm alive!"
"Take me out! Pull me out. I am here!"
"I am near the kitchen; get me out!"
"Give me water. I want to breathe!"
"My son's here. My wife's there."
"My brother is here."
"Dig here; I am under the pillar."
Im over the pillar, under the cupboard.
At that moment, I wonder
what they were doing before the strike.
What were they talking about?
Were they drinking, eating, laughing?
Was the father playing with his children?
Was the mother calling her daughter?
What was the topic of their discussion?
It's a dangerous mix.
(Footsteps on dust)
(Wind blowing)
(Street sounds)
(Ambulance siren)
(Crickets chirping)
(Ambulance siren)
(Fire crackles)
(Crackling continues)
(Emotional song)
(Song continues)
Scene 123, track two.
Take six.
He got into the biggest trouble ever.
You all say that in the beginning.
Go now! I swear I will come after you!
(Song continues)
(Market bustle)
(Dramatic music)
(Traffic, honking)
(More traffic)
Gaza before the war.
Without these recordings
I would have forgotten it.
Everything was beautiful.
The sound of people, cars honking
the sound of driving and the sea.
Even the sound of laundry flapping.
The sounds of the camp, the window
and the door as it closed.
Gaza was wonderful.
Its sounds were really vibrant.
Its not the most beautiful place on earth
but it has unique and beautiful sounds.
I never recorded anything outside of Gaza.
I've never once left this place.
(Exciting music)
(Music continues)
(Dull missile thump)
(Missile sound)
(Distant explosions)
Nighttime in Gaza is different.
You hear artillery, bombing, and jets.
But the people are completely silent.
They go to sleep fearing death.
We hear these sounds intermittently.
But the monster that never leaves us alone
is the drone.
It's become part of our lives.
There isn't a single sound I can record
without the drone
humming in the background.
Even now, as were recording
you can hear the drone.
Its become a track in the sound library
or maybe the main track
in all of our projects.
It haunts us day and night.
(Drone flying over)
(Small trucks passing)
People used to walk in the street here.
(Footsteps on dust)
I used to gather my equipment
and listen to people as I walked.
(Footsteps continue)
I used to come down this street
and hear lots of sounds.
(Pensive music)
(Car approaching)
In this street
Oh God...
How many dreams have been crushed?
(Drone flying over)
(Dull missile thud)
(Drone)
(Street sounds)
(Whistling)
(Rhythmic handclapping)
(Whistling/clapping continues)
Come on. Raise your hands!
From the left to the right! Come on!
Repeat after me out loud...
Come on, come on, come on!
Let's play together!
(Children chanting)
Not a moment passes without bombing.
The blasts were right above our heads.
The Israelis were besieging us.
They were shooting at us with their tanks
and throwing bombs at the houses.
Our house was bombed
on the first day of the war.
My home was my happy place.
I wish the war would end
so we can return to our home.
(Children playing)
Did you bring toys from your house?
No, because we had to evacuate quickly.
We're lucky we brought our clothes.
Did you have a special toy?
-Yes.
-What was it?
I had a doll.
I wanted to name it Leila or Louli.
(Children playing)
(Footsteps on sand)
One day, I recorded the sound of footsteps
as people walked along the corniche
and I recorded the sound
of a marathon by the beach.
But today, I recorded the footsteps and
the screeching tyres
of people fleeing death, seeking refuge.
These steps were heavy,
filled with exhaustion.
(Car horn)
(Dull missile thud)
(Rickshaw passes by)
Hello. Yes? Hello
Where exactly?
In a kiosk? There's nothing there.
There? Oh, there it is. It's alright now.
-Hey there, man.
-Welcome!
How are you?
-How are you, Ghazal? All good?
-I am fine.
-Good.
-Is everything okay?
All's good.
-Why are you here?
-We left Khan Yunis.
It wasn't easy finding the address.
-The family is displaced.
-Tell me, Ghazal.
-How is the displacement?
-It's hard.
-What are you doing?
-I'm selling pastries.
You're selling pastries? Are they good?
-Try them! Enjoy.
-Thank you!
Sit down.
-How are you?
-I'm good, doing well.
What happened when you went to get water?
They fired six missiles,
one after the other.
At that moment, the sound of missiles
completely shattered my heart.
I heard the first rocket
then the second, and the third.
Then, I saw people mangled in front of me.
I saw blood gushing onto the ground
and buildings being bombed.
It was truly hard to endure.
I zoned out.
I was petrified.
I expected to be bombed at any moment.
I was heading back to my parents' house.
I left the stroller and gallons of water.
I ran, directionless.
(Droning music)
I used to wake up, wash my face
get dressed and have breakfast.
Then I'd go to school.
Now, I wake up and arrange my things.
But the first thing of
all, I will go get water.
From dusk until dawn
I constantly think about water.
I get some whenever I can.
We were happy in Gaza. But now...
fear has wrecked our
hearts; we never rest.
We think about water all day.
We don't get a single second of rest.
It's as if we live in constant fear.
(Drone flying over)
We went to get water, but it had run out.
We face the same issue every time.
(Creaking wheelchair)
At school, they sometimes
brought in clowns.
They would bring us some joy.
But now, no one comes to play with us.
No one comes to make us happy
or to bring some peace into our hearts
or help us forget the war for a bit.
When the clowns used to come
I would wait for them
with great excitement.
Whenever they said the
the clowns were coming
I would wait impatiently.
I was ready to be happy
to play and laugh
to forget a bit about the war.
When we used to hear the missiles
my parents would calm me down a bit.
But now, I understand how missiles work.
I feel older than my age.
(Serving customers)
(Pouring water from container)
At any moment, while we are talking
while we are speaking now
they might bomb us.
I think that one day I will wake up
and my parents will be dead.
I could lose my family, my mum and dad.
It would be over.
My life would become meaningless.
I want the war to end.
That is my wish.
I had dreams before in Gaza
but they are long gone now.
Now, my wish is for the war to end.
(Honking)
(Pensive music)
(Children playing football)
At kindergarten and school graduations
I used to enjoy listening to wishes.
Some wished to become doctors,
others engineers, teachers, or pilots.
Today, their wishes have changed.
Even their lifestyles have altered.
The war has forced them to mature quickly.
They act older than their age.
Their tears fall down their cheeks faster.
Do you want to sing? Come on then.
(Child singing)
(Singing continues...)
(Singing continues)
(Wind blows)
(Children chatting)
(Footsteps on dust)
(Car passing)
(Birdsong)
(Distant traffic sounds)
(Horse and cart passing)
(Street seller)
(Street hubbub)
(Hubbub continues)
(Horse cantering down street)
(Scooping lentils)
(Pouring food)
(Pensive music)
(Ambulance siren)
(Debris crunching under shoes)
Hello, how are you, grandma?
-How are you?
-I'm fine.
-All's good?
-All is well, and you?
All's great, grandma.
-This falafel smells like Gaza.
-Really?
I swear it smells just like Gaza
I swear it does!
Is this from Sousse?
My aunt made eggplants
with fried potatoes.
-And Shakshuka.
-Great!
Shakshuka!
You taught us how to cook it.
You know a Palestinian womans dowry?
Yes.
It should exceed $50,000.
Why?
They know how to manage everything.
They prepare feasts with just tomatoes.
They can turn them into
stews, salads, anything.
-True.
-May God bless you.
They make fake Maqluba.
They can also make fake Fatteh
and even cook potatoes without meat.
They can do anything.
-But city women!
-What about them?
They prefer everything to be prepared.
-Really?
-Yes.
-They want delivery.
-Delivery?
It's called delivery.
(Laughing)
(Stirring frying pan)
(Fire crackling)
(Missile approaches and thuds)
Now, what about the drones?
-We sleep to their humming.
-Oh, really?
-I sleep like a child.
-It's like a lullaby.
Like a child being rocked to sleep.
We sleep and wake up to their sound
the sound of drones.
Give me your broom
so I can clean the house.
A broom?
This tool captures every sound, grandma.
I held it yesterday
Its been a while.
When I held it, I felt melancholic.
You felt melancholic?
I saw them cooking meat in the pot
then my heart started throbbing
because there were
people who wanted to eat.
What about those from the North
who ended up in Deir el Balah?
How will they all fit in?
It's tiny.
Where do we go?
Where should we go?
What did you like to do most
before the war?
What was it?
Did you used to sit here?
-Yes.
-Sipping some tea.
I used to pray Duha (Sunrise
time prayer) and go out.
When it was noon,
I used to come back,
pray at noon, have lunch, and then sleep.
-I was free.
-What about the afternoon?
I would pray in the
afternoon, then go out.
My daughter-in-law
would make me a cup of tea
with some seeds or
ma'amoul (traditional cookies).
-Do you have teeth to eat seeds?
-Yes, I do!
I do have teeth.
-May you all return home.
-Hopefully.
-Don't be afraid, my dear.
-Yes, hopefully.
Oh, Grandma!
We really miss Gaza.
I miss it, too.
I couldn't go to my brother's or niece's.
One of my nieces lost 11 people.
People went north and were killed.
Most people have died.
They died from hunger.
They begged for something to eat.
They begged for a bite of food.
There is no more bread.
There is no bread or flour.
A kilogram of flour costs $14.
How will we afford that?
Nobody is working or getting paid.
How would they pay?
Do they sell their organs? It won't work.
No one is helping to get a bag of flour
for these elderly people.
Nobody is helping anyone.
Things will get better.
(Drone passing)
-May God bless us.
-May God bless us.
(Drone continues)
-May it become better.
-Hopefully.
May God give you health
and grant you strength
against those who oppress you. Amen.
May you return to your children safe.
May God bless your children,
your daughters, wives, and loved ones
and every person out there.
Oh God, have mercy. (Dramatic music)
I want to record the sounds of Gaza.
The sounds of my city
The sound of the call to prayers...
The sounds of the markets...
The sound of sellers
and children playing in the streets.
The sound of people shouting.
The sound of my mother
my sisters and my brothers.
The sound of the people we lost.
I want to record the sound of the sea.
(Ocean waves break gently on the beach)
(Waves continue)
(Baby crying)
(Crying continues)
Her mother got pregnant
the second month into the war.
She was pregnant throughout the war.
She moved neighbourhoods a lot.
How many times has she been displaced?
She was displaced 12 times.
She passed through many checkpoints
and fell more than once.
She carried heavy weights
of more than 20 kilograms on her back
just to get here
as she passed through the checkpoints.
She finally cried! She cried!
He went to the barber to get his glasses.
He just went to get his glasses.
He was bombed in the street.
I'm living through memories.
I keep watching videos of Khalil with us.
We always took photos and videos of him.
We were happy he was with us.
We took many photos of him on our phones.
Today, we live with these memories
of our Khalil.
I really want to see him now.
I hope he gets better than before.
I wish he could play with kids again
like all children his age.
Dad, this is a voice message from Khalil.
How are you?
How are you?
What's up, Dad? How's everything?
I miss you.
Send him a kiss.
I miss my sister in Gaza.
We talk daily, and it breaks my heart
when she tells me they have no food
or water in Gaza, and there's famine.
She gets displaced daily.
She moves from one place to another.
The situation is really
dire here, but also in Gaza.
I used to love sitting with my family
in my neighbourhood, amongst my people.
Today, those moments are long gone
and I yearn for my previous life
especially when I hear these sounds.
I'm also a football player.
I used to love the football field.
The crowd was cheering,
and the stadium was noisy.
Unfortunately, we miss these things.
Today, I deeply wish
to play football for a couple of minutes.
(Haunting music)
Can you hear the sound of jets?
(Drone passing)
During the war
I recorded many sounds
and listened to many stories.
Our voice in Gaza is loud.
Some have tried to mute us,
refusing to listen to our voice.
But our voices will endure
and we will carry on living...
(Pensive music)
(Drone passing)
(Distant explosions)
(Ambulance siren)
(Drone continues)
(Missile thud)
(Ambient music)
(Car drives by)
(Drone continues)
(Missile approaches
followed by dull thuds)
(Thuds continue)
(Drone continues)
(Intense music crescendos)
(Missile thuds)