Latest news with #Al-AqsaUniversity
Yahoo
09-06-2025
- Sport
- Yahoo
Palestine's World Cup dream still on as Israel ruins Gaza's sports sector
Khan Younis, Gaza – In the ruins of his home in Khan Younis, 75-year-old Shaker Safi gently thumbs through fading photographs of his son Mohammed's sporting career. Medals, trophies, team huddles, and group photos of young athletes coached by Mohammed now serve as a haunting memorial to a dream destroyed by war. On November 15, 2023, Mohammed Safi – a football coach and physical education teacher – was killed in an Israeli air strike. He had spent years building a legacy of hope through sport, training at schools and community clubs, and transforming underdog teams into local champions. A graduate in physical education from Al-Aqsa University, Mohammed was the head coach of Al-Amal Football Club in southern Gaza and was widely admired for his work nurturing young talent aged between six and 16. 'My son dreamt of representing Palestine internationally,' Shaker says, surrounded by remnants of his son's accolades. 'He believed sport could lift youth from despair. But war reached him before he could reach the world.' Now displaced, Mohammed's wife Nermeen and their four children – 16-year-old Shaker Jr, Amir, 14, Alma, 11, and Taif, 7 – live with the painful void created by his death. The children cling to their father's last football and coaching notes as keepsakes. Nermeen, an art teacher, gently wipes away Taif's tears when she asks, 'Why did they take Daddy from us?' 'He was a man of dreams, not politics,' Nermeen says. 'He wanted to become an international referee. He wanted his master's degree. Instead, he was killed for being a symbol of life and youth.' Mohammed Safi is one of hundreds of athletes and sports professionals who have been killed or displaced since the war began. According to the Palestinian Olympic Committee, 582 athletes have been killed since October 7, 2023, many of them national team players, coaches, and administrators. For those who remain alive in Gaza, survival has replaced sporting ambition. Yousef Abu Shawarib is a 20-year-old goalkeeper for Rafah's premier league football club. In May 2024, he and his family fled their home and took shelter at Khan Younis Stadium – the same field where he once played official matches. Today, the stadium is a shelter for displaced families, its synthetic turf now lined with tents instead of players. 'This is where my coach used to brief me before games,' Yousef says, standing near what used to be the bench area, now a water distribution point. 'Now I wait here for water, not for kickoff.' His routine today involves light, irregular training inside his tent, hoping to preserve a fraction of his fitness. But his dreams of studying sports sciences in Germany and playing professionally are gone. 'Now, I only hope we have something to eat tomorrow,' he tells Al Jazeera. 'The war didn't just destroy fields – it destroyed our futures.' When he looks at the charred stadium, he doesn't see a temporary displacement. 'This was not collateral damage. It was systematic. It's like they want to erase everything about us – even our games.' Still, like the patches of grass that survived the blasts, some hope remains. Shadi Abu Armanah, head coach of Palestine's amputee football team, had devised a six-month plan to resume training. His 25 players and five coaching staff had been building momentum before the war on Gaza. The team had competed internationally, including in a 2019 tournament in France. Before hostilities began, they were preparing for another event in November 2023 and an event in West Asia set for October 2025. 'Now, we can't even gather,' Shadi says. 'Every facility we used has been destroyed. The players have lost their homes. Most have lost loved ones. There's nowhere safe to train – no gear, no field, nothing.' Supported by the International Committee of the Red Cross, the team had once symbolised resilience. Training sessions were more than drills – they were lifelines. 'For amputees, sport was a second chance,' Shadi says. 'Now they are just trying to survive.' Shadi himself is displaced. His home, too, was bombed. 'The clubs I worked for are gone. The players are either dead or scattered. If the war ends today, we'll still need years to bring back even a fraction of what was lost.' He adds, 'I coached across many clubs and divisions. Almost all their facilities have been reduced to rubble. It's not just a pause – it's erasure.' The scope of devastation extends beyond personal loss. According to Asaad al-Majdalawi, vice president of the Palestinian Olympic Committee, Gaza's entire sporting infrastructure is on the brink of collapse. At least 270 sports facilities have been damaged or destroyed: 189 completely flattened and 81 partially damaged, with initial estimates of material losses in the hundreds of millions of dollars. 'Every major component of Gaza's sports system has been hit,' al-Majdalawi told Al Jazeera. 'The Olympic Committee offices, sports federations, clubs, school and university sports programmes – even private sports facilities have been targeted. It's a comprehensive assault.' Among the fallen are high-profile athletes like Nagham Abu Samra, Palestine's international karate champion; Majed Abu Maraheel, the first Palestinian to carry the Olympic flag at the 1996 Atlanta Games; Olympic football coach Hani al-Masdar; and national athletics coach Bilal Abu Sam'an. Hundreds of others remain injured or missing, complicating accurate assessments. 'This is not just loss – it's extermination,' al-Majdalawi says. 'Each athlete was a community pillar. They weren't numbers. They were symbols of hope, unity, and perseverance. Losing them has deeply wounded the Palestinian society.' He warns that beyond the immediate human toll, the interruption of sports activities for a year and a half will result in physical, psychological, and professional regression for remaining athletes. 'You lose more than muscle and skill – you lose purpose.' Al-Majdalawi believes the international response has been alarmingly inadequate. When Gaza's sports community reaches out to global federations, Olympic bodies, and ministers of youth and sport, they're met with silence. 'In private, many international officials sympathise,' he says. 'But at the decision-making level, Israel seems to operate above the law. There's no accountability. It's like sport doesn't matter when it's Palestinian. The global and international sports institutions appear complicit through their silence, ignoring all international laws, human rights, and the governing rules of the international sports system,' he says. He believes that if the war ended today, it would still take five to 10 years to rebuild what has been lost. Even that gloomy timeline is based on the assumption that the blockade ends and international funding becomes available. 'We have been building this sports sector since 1994,' al-Majdalawi says. 'It took us decades to accumulate knowledge, experience, and professionalism. Now, it's all been levelled in months.' As the war continues, the fate of Gaza's sports sector hangs by a thread. Yet amid the ruins, fathers like Shaker Safi, athletes like Yousef, and coaches like Shadi hold on to one unyielding belief: that sport will once again be a source of hope, identity, and life for Palestinians.
The National
17-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The National
‘War has cast a dark shadow over my work': Gaza-based artist shares inspiration behind his viral paintings
Once known for creating vibrant animations and playful depictions, Gaza-based Palestinian artist Ahmad Adawy has adopted a different tone this past year. Stoic images framed by scenes of war and displacement now grace the artist's Instagram page. The images are as sombre as they are striking. The war has cast a dark shadow over Adawy's work, shaping it in profound and painful ways. 'Previously, my art celebrated beauty, hope and a vision for a brighter future,' he says, speaking from his house in northern Gaza. 'I loved painting joyful scenes, expressing optimism even amid hardship. But now, as a husband and father of three daughters, the experience has taken on a terrifying dimension. Watching the fear in my wife's and daughters' eyes with each explosion is a constant reminder of how fragile our world has become.' A 41-year-old senior illustrator and art director, Adawy cofounded Cubineers in the northern Gaza city of Deir al Balah in 2014. The small business and studio was designed to create animations and illustrations. Now, in the aftermath of October 7, Adawy has lost his studio and many of his works, halting operations on a lifelong labour of love. Despite the challenges of living and working in the midst of a devastating war, Adawy continues to share his illustrations on his social media channels, now taking inspiration from his new, although sombre, reality. 'Before the war, my life revolved around my work in cartoons and animation, which was far more than just a profession – it was a true passion,' Adawy says. 'My work was vibrant, serving a variety of fields from media and marketing to children's content and agency projects. Every piece was filled with colour and joy, a creative escape from the hardships of life in Gaza.' Raised in a refugee camp, Adawy attended the UNRWA schools – a journey he says helped him deeply appreciate the power of community and resilience. He later pursued a Bachelor's degree in Fine Art from Al-Aqsa University in Gaza, where he nurtured his passion for creativity and visual storytelling. The university has since been damaged by Israeli air strikes. Growing up in Gaza, he witnessed the impact of the first Intifada and the struggles faced by his community under occupation. 'These experiences deeply influenced my early work, and my first piece, Children of Stones, captured the resilience of Palestinian youth amid these challenging times,' he says. Despite working with limited tools and resources due to the Israeli siege, Adawy poured his heart into every project. Each animation, each artwork, felt like a new member of the family, he explains – 'a part of me and my story'. It was both a way of coping with the challenges he and his family faced daily – and a testament to the resilience and dreams of their community. 'At Cubineers, our team was dedicated to producing work that combined technical skills with meaningful storytelling, even with the limitations we faced in Gaza,' Adawy explains, adding that after years of hard work and many sleepless nights, his studio became one of the leading animation production companies in the Mena region, delivering content that resonated with audiences globally. 'Unfortunately, in the recent aggression, our studio was destroyed and we lost most of our equipment and computers. It was a significant setback, both emotionally and professionally, as our work was not only a source of livelihood, but also a way to share our creativity with the world.' In spite of these losses, Adawy and his team remain committed to rebuilding and continuing their work. 'In my recent artworks, I aim to capture moments that, although brief, leave a lasting impact and etch deep scars on the human soul,' the artist explains, letting out a sigh in the process. 'Each piece is an attempt to convey the overwhelming emotions that have hit me so hard, that threaten to strip away my humanity in the face of horror. I know it's never enough to fully capture these experiences.' The piece that resonates most closely with the artist, however, is a depiction of a family hiding under an umbrella as bombs fall in the background. It is inspired by Adawy's instinct to protect his family amid chaos. 'It's a symbolic gesture of my love and fear, he explains. 'This artwork is a testament to my own helplessness but also my unbreakable commitment to shield my loved ones, however fragile that hope may be.' Adawy actively shares his work on social media as an outlet and a source of expression. But he is also currently preparing for an upcoming international exhibition, with more details to be posted on his social accounts soon. Both he and his team at Cubineers continue working in some capacity during the conflict. He confirms: 'Art and storytelling are deeply woven into who we are and what we stand for.'
Al Jazeera
12-02-2025
- Politics
- Al Jazeera
Art as survival: Gaza's creators transform pain into protest
Amid the rubble of destroyed homes and the echoing booms of air strikes, Gaza's artists sit with brushes in hand, transforming despair into defiance. Flour bags become canvases, humanitarian aid boxes are turned into portraits and every paint stroke tells a story. For more than 76 years, Israel's occupation has posed a threat to Palestinian culture through displacement and destruction. But even in the face of the current war, in which Israel has killed more than 61,700 Palestinians, Gaza's artists refuse to disappear. And some of the enclave's artists have managed to turn pain into hope while portraying the harsh realities of war and displacement. With limited resources, they keep producing, saying their art reflects a will to survive. The cultural devastation in Gaza includes the destruction of dozens of cultural centres, museums and artefacts, including ancient pottery and manuscripts. The ceasefire, which began on January 19, has provided a respite, but experts believe the full extent of the damage is unknown. In the most recent official report on the situation, the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics and the Ministry of Culture said in March that 45 writers and artists had been killed in Gaza since the conflict erupted on October 7, 2023 and 32 cultural centres and 12 museums had been destroyed. The numbers are now likely far higher. Among those killed is artist Mahasen al-Khateeb, who died in October in an Israeli air strike on the Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza. She was killed with her entire family. Attempt to 'erase' Palestinian culture While the Israeli military has consistently claimed that its operations focus on fighters involved in attacks on Israel, Gaza artists and art experts contend that Israel is intent on wiping out Palestinian culture. Israel has 'destroyed historical sites and ancient landmarks, erasing thousands of years of cultural heritage in Gaza', said Sobhi Qouta, a visual artist and lecturer at Al-Aqsa University who also coordinates the Visual Arts Club at the Abdel Mohsin Al-Qattan Foundation. 'Many Palestinian artists also lost their works whether through the bombing of their homes or the destruction of cultural centres housing these pieces.' Palestinian art traces its roots to Byzantine influences and evolved through Islamic traditions. Post-1967 when Israel began occupying Gaza, art became a powerful tool of resistance with artists like Kamal Boullata and Suleiman Mansour using their work to assert Palestinian identity amid occupation. Art education was incorporated into Gaza's academic landscape in the mid-1990s with Al-Aqsa University's fine arts programme. The artistic scene grew rapidly, boosted by the Eltiqa Group for Contemporary Art's 2002 launch as Gaza's first modern art space and followed by Shababeek For Contemporary Art in 2009. Despite conflict and the blockade of Gaza by Israel, Gaza's art community thrived. But all major art spaces – Eltiqa, Shababeek, and Al-Aqsa – have been destroyed by Israel in the war. Silent testimonies of struggle Hussein al-Jerjawi, 18, endured displacement five times because of the war. And the conflict cost him an entire academic year. The war profoundly influenced his artistic journey, and he turned to an unconventional medium: humanitarian flour bags as canvases. His paintings on the symbols of survival in a besieged land show cracks, fissures and other symbols that reflect the fractured existence of those in Gaza. 'When I paint on a flour bag, it feels as if I'm writing our history with a brush dipped in suffering and resilience,' al-Jerjawi said. The choice of aid bags is a natural response to the scarcity of traditional art supplies in Gaza, al-Jerjawi said. 'In a refugee tent, surrounded by empty UNRWA flour bags, I decided to paint on them to capture the pain of war and my story of displacement,' he said, referring to the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees, the main aid agency for Palestinians. Despite the war, al-Jerjawi participated in art exhibitions and workshops, including stints as a visual artist with the Qattan Foundation and at Shababeek. One of his paintings was showcased in the occupied West Bank at the Qattan Gallery, run by the Qattan Foundation, which has been instrumental in nurturing Gaza's artistic community, supporting children in disciplines such as drawing, theatre and singing. 'Even after losing so much, my art remains my defiance,' he said. Describing one of his paintings, al-Jerjawi said 'bags of flour silently witness the stories of the displaced, waiting for survival. With printed words emphasising a frozen human condition, the raised, clenched hands – some gripping flour, others empty – speak to the desperate search for hope.' He added that 'the faces are stories of fatigue and hunger. The eyes ask not just for bread but for dignity. The faded crowd in the background, like shadows, waits in an endless line.' Al-Jerjawi views his art as a defence of Palestinian identity. 'The occupation seeks to erase our culture and identity. But art preserves our memory. Every painting I create is a document, telling the world that we are alive, we dream and we hold onto our roots.' Transforming pain into art Ibrahim Mahna, 19, another Palestinian artist, has transformed humanitarian aid boxes that were used to package food and other essentials into works of art that he said embody the pain and resilience of families displaced by war. 'These boxes are not just food containers. They have become symbols of the dire social conditions we face today while also reflecting our tenacity to resist and ability to endure,' Mahna said. Mahna started using the aid boxes when traditional art supplies became inaccessible due to the war. From the rough surface of one of his box paintings, images of hollow-eyed faces emerge, silently screaming. Behind them, tents rise in a barren landscape flanked by palm trees. 'These faces are my people,' Mahna said. His work often depicts tents and figures spanning generations, reflecting the suffering of Palestinians who have lost everything. 'The tents have become all they have left – a fragile shelter that offers no protection from the harshness of nature or the weight of their tragedy,' Mahna said.'The suffering of displaced individuals in these tents inspires me to create more paintings that document their daily struggles, ensuring their stories remain a testament to their existence.' He pointed to a woman in the centre of one of his paintings, her strong but weary face embodying Palestinian motherhood. 'Behind her are men and children scarred by war and poverty. These faces symbolise a people who refuse to be erased,' Mahna said. For Mahna, art is resistance and identity: 'The occupation doesn't just take our land. It tries to erase us. Painting on aid boxes lets me reclaim our story.' Qouta said there is no doubt that the Israeli occupation has heavily targeted Palestinian art and culture. Even though Mahna and al-Jerjawi managed to keep on producing, Qouta said the war left many 'artists unable to create due to psychological trauma'. He added: 'Many have had to focus on supporting their families and finding safety.'
