Archive for July 2011

17-06-2011 Muriel Besemer
Yesterday was our last repetition day. Today is Friday, so everybody is free, and Saturday everybody starts performing the play in the schools. The play is no longer mine and Rafat’s, now it’s the play of fifteen women who are going to perform the play twice a day, outside in the burning heat, in front of 300 kids and than do a workshop with those kids afterwards. All of that dressed from hands till ankles and with heads veiled…I owe them much respect!
It means we have three days left to instruct our players, to really bring the plays out to the audiences, to get them communicating, to work out details on the workshop. And after these three days they’ll have to perform six weeks without us being around. Nothing new for a director, we always have to let our actors go at the day of the première. But it feels different this time, as now it also means saying goodbye. Saying goodbye to people that I have welcomed in my heart, and of whom I am not sure when I’ll be seeing them again. That makes everything different.

29-06-2011 Casper Vandeputte
Every night after returning to the Netherlands I dreamt of the closed doors around Gaza. I dreamt of being unable to leave. It is still so close. The only thing I can mention is that walking around in the Netherlands feels like a fresh breeze during an alpine hike. In all my nerves the beaten word freedom does energize me. My heart jumps with every oddly dressed person I see on the streets. How rich we are. How happy we are.
That is the only thing I am able to write with certainty at this moment. Muriel, Paul, Daniel and I have grown together and now form a sharp as knife speakers’ collective. How sharp? We’ll show you on the 9th of September in Theater De Krakeling in Amsterdam. Hopefully we see you there!

15-06-2011 Daniel van Klaveren
Dispatches from Gaza:
We are in Nuseirat, one of the bigger refugee camps in Gaza, which grew out to be a city. We are seated in the guest room of Abou Aziz, one of the actors in Paul’s play. He lives in this camp. The room borders an alley. Paul tries stealing a glimpse from the camp via looking around the corner all the time, but our hosts do prevent that somehow. It seems they are ashamed of their situation. Than Abou Aziz enters the room with baby Aziz. The baby passes from hand to hand, and all of us should be on a picture with the little kid. That the baby is handed round less careful than we are used to in the Netherlands doesn’t bother the kid – he just keeps on smiling to all those strangers. When, during our departure, sunset falls over the abandoned market of Nuseirat we whisper “kind of romantic.” Romantic?! This?” says Ashraf “Now I dont understand anymore…”

It is Thursday night. I pass the night at Sharaf’s in Khan Younnis, in the south of Gaza. They’ve been inviting me for weeks to come over to Khan Younnis. Earlier I hesitated and was reluctant, but now I thought ‘why not’.  Sharf does speak English, and shares a house with Rafat, as they are family.  That is a safe feeling. All of Rafat’s brothers have a floor for their themselves. Sharaf, his brother and his parent live on the top floor. I am sleeping in his room. The windows are open. From his room I can see the houses of Said, Chatib, Hassan, Sami and Amin. All of this neighbourhood seems to work for the theatre company. It is dark outside and all feels tranquil. For a moment I feel part of life here.

We spend some time at Rafat’s place. We play foot with his kids and eat the excessive dishes filled with rice and chicken. Than Liesbeth’s phone rings. The letter of the Dutch minister for culture to the Dutch parliament means very bad news for her theatre company. Budget cuts of 70 percent are a normal figure in his plans. The theatre production platforms where Casper and Paul mostly work will disappear completely. Liesbeth cannot contain her tears. I am trying to explain the Palestinians what it is all about. “Aah,” says Ali, “than why don’t you just stay here? It is fun. You are good people. You could work here, own a little house, have your girlfriends come over, get married. The bombing and the shootings will become a regular part of life soon. You’ll get used to them. Than you’ll do a little dance, as in the performance. After one year you’ll be so bored you commit suicide.” “Ah yes, Ali, that seems to be the best solution.” That night I dream the most detailed dream on Amsterdam I ever dreamt.