Music Gives Gaza Children Respite From Horrors of War 

Ruaa Hassouna plays music for Palestinian children on her oud (Ud, or oriental lute) as Palestinian children participate in an activity aimed to support their mental health, amid continuing battles between Israel and the militant group Hamas, in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip on December 18, 2023. (AFP)
Ruaa Hassouna plays music for Palestinian children on her oud (Ud, or oriental lute) as Palestinian children participate in an activity aimed to support their mental health, amid continuing battles between Israel and the militant group Hamas, in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip on December 18, 2023. (AFP)
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Music Gives Gaza Children Respite From Horrors of War 

Ruaa Hassouna plays music for Palestinian children on her oud (Ud, or oriental lute) as Palestinian children participate in an activity aimed to support their mental health, amid continuing battles between Israel and the militant group Hamas, in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip on December 18, 2023. (AFP)
Ruaa Hassouna plays music for Palestinian children on her oud (Ud, or oriental lute) as Palestinian children participate in an activity aimed to support their mental health, amid continuing battles between Israel and the militant group Hamas, in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip on December 18, 2023. (AFP)

It takes a while but slowly the children gathered around volunteer entertainer Ruaa Hassouna in a Gaza camp start clapping along as her music offers some respite from the horrors around them.

Smiles light up the faces of the children, huddled amid the tents outside the south Gaza town of Rafah which shelter hundreds of thousands of Palestinians driven from their homes by more than two months of relentless Israeli bombardment.

Hassouna is part of a troupe of more than a dozen volunteer entertainers who travel from camp to makeshift camp on a mission to provide children with some escape, however brief, from the death and destruction they have witnessed.

The 23-year-old plays the oud, a lute-like stringed instrument popular across the Middle East. Other volunteers entertain the children with slapstick, acrobatics, story-telling or dance.

"We use whatever means we can to remove the children from the war," says the 23-year-old. "The aim of getting them to sing is to alleviate their stress."

Hassouna says that when her young audiences hear her oud, they "no longer hear the hum of the drones" deployed by the Israeli army, instead immersing themselves in the music.

The United Nations says children make up half of the 1.9 million Palestinians displaced since the onset of the Israel-Hamas war.

They have been forced to abandon their daily routines and live under Israeli bombardment since Hamas's October 7 attacks on Israel killed about 1,140 people, according to an AFP count based on Israel figures.

'I want my childhood back'

Hassouna's troupe travels to a different camp every day, putting on a three-hour performance in each.

"It's an important project because, from what we've observed, the psychological state of the children is very bad," said returning expatriate Awni Farhat, the person behind the initiative.

This space "allows them to unburden themselves of the psychological problems created by this war", said Farhat, who lives in the Netherlands but returned to Gaza during a week-long humanitarian truce in late November.

The UN children's agency, UNICEF, has described the Gaza Strip as "the most dangerous place in the world" for a child.

Speaking after a two-week visit to the besieged coastal enclave, UNICEF spokesman James Elder said he had witnessed children hospitalized for amputations who were then "killed in those hospitals" by Israeli bombardments.

The health ministry in the Hamas-run territory says more than 19,667 people have been killed in Gaza during the war, most of them women or children.

Many of the children in the troupe's audiences are hardened beyond their years, their innocence shattered by fear and bereavement.

"I want to forget my worries and forget the people I've lost," said 15-year-old Nizar Shaheen, adding that he felt "suffocated" by life in the camps.

"I want to live my childhood like we did before," he said, adding: "We don't know where to go. Today, there's no food, no water, there's nothing."



Year after Exodus, Silence Fills Panama Island Threatened by Sea

The evacuation of around 1,200 members of the Indigenous Guna community to a new life on the mainland was one of the first planned migrations in Latin America due to climate change. MARTIN BERNETTI / AFP
The evacuation of around 1,200 members of the Indigenous Guna community to a new life on the mainland was one of the first planned migrations in Latin America due to climate change. MARTIN BERNETTI / AFP
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Year after Exodus, Silence Fills Panama Island Threatened by Sea

The evacuation of around 1,200 members of the Indigenous Guna community to a new life on the mainland was one of the first planned migrations in Latin America due to climate change. MARTIN BERNETTI / AFP
The evacuation of around 1,200 members of the Indigenous Guna community to a new life on the mainland was one of the first planned migrations in Latin America due to climate change. MARTIN BERNETTI / AFP

Streets once filled with children's laughter have fallen silent on a Panamanian island where almost all residents left a year ago due to the threat of the sea swallowing their homes.

The evacuation of around 1,200 members of the Indigenous Guna community to a new life on the mainland was one of the first planned migrations in Latin America due to climate change.

The exodus from Gardi Sugdub in the Caribbean left those who remained with a sense of sadness, said Delfino Davies, who has a small museum on the island with spears, jars and animal bones.

"There are no friends left or children playing," he told AFP.

Gardi Sugdub now has the silence of a "dead island," he said.

Dusty desks and empty classrooms are all that remain of a school that once bustled with children.

Many of the island's wooden houses are padlocked.

"There's no one here. Sometimes I get sad when I'm here alone," Mayka Tejada, 47, said in the small store where she sells bananas, pumpkins, clothes, toys and notebooks.

Like Davies and about 100 others, she decided to stay.

But her mother and two children, aged 16 and 22, moved to one of the 300 houses built by the Panamanian government in a new neighborhood called Isber Yala on the mainland, a 15-minute boat ride away.

Gardi Sugdub, the size of around five football fields, is one of 49 inhabited islands in the Guna Yala archipelago -- also known as San Blas -- which scientists warn is in danger of disappearing by the end of the century.

'I'll die here'

Sitting in a hammock in her earthen-floor house filled with the aroma of medicinal herbs, 62-year-old Luciana Perez said she had no intention of leaving.

"I was born in Gardi and I'll die here. Nothing is sinking. Scientists don't know, only God," she said.

Perez said that she was not afraid because since she was a child she had seen big waves and rising waters flooding houses at times.

Steven Paton, a scientist at the Panama-based Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute, said climate change meant that sea levels were expected to rise by up to 80 centimeters.

"Most of the Guna Yala islands are about 50 centimeters above sea level," he told AFP. "They'll be underwater."

Ana Toni, CEO of the United Nations' COP30 climate conference, told AFP that the mass evacuation "shows the reality we already have to face on the planet."

Sidewalks, water, electricity

The arrival of the rainy season has left puddles dotting the dirt roads of Gardi Sugdub.

In contrast, in the new settlement of Isber Yala -- "land of loquats" in the Guna language -- the streets are paved and have sidewalks.

The nearly 50-square-meter (500-square-feet) concrete houses have flushing toilets and there is a plot of land to grow vegetables.

On Gardi Sugdub "we lived crowded together, and I had to go fetch water from the river in a small boat," said Magdalena Martinez, a 75-year-old retired teacher.

In Isber Yala, water is available for an hour in the morning, she said.

"I can fill the buckets. And I have electricity 24 hours a day," said Martinez, who lives with her granddaughter in the new neighborhood.

Tejada's children also have no regrets about leaving the island, she said.

"I miss them, but they're happy there. They have a place to play football and walk around," Tejada said.

While the island's school relocated to Isber Yala, its dilapidated clinic remained in Gardi Sugdub.

"Before, people came on foot. Now, they have to travel by land and sea to get here. There are fewer visitors," said 46-year-old doctor John Smith.

Some of the islanders divide their time between the two communities, while others visit occasionally to check on their homes.

This week, there will be more activity than normal: seven jars of chicha -- a fermented corn drink -- are ready for Isber Yala's first anniversary.

Martinez is looking forward to the celebration, even though it will be bittersweet.

Although she may not see it herself, "the islands will disappear because the sea will reclaim its territory," she said.