2 days ago5 min read

‘A Grain of Sand’ Review: An Ode To The Children Of Gaza

The 2024 London Palestine Film Festival opened with the play A Grain of Sand, a one-woman show written by Elias Matar and starring Sarah Agha, both Palestinian. Agha plays an 11-year-old girl in Palestine, Renad, as her world is shattered after an Israeli airstrike hits her home. Armed with nothing but her imagination and the folktales her grandmother once shared, Renad embarks on a perilous journey through war-torn Gaza in search of her family, navigating the treacherous terrain of life, death, and loss.

The play draws directly from the experiences of real children affected by Israel’s assault on Gaza, with stories and quotes sourced from the book A Million Kites, a book of testimonies and poems compiled and edited by Leila Bourkarim. This grounding in testimony lends the narrative an unflinching authenticity, giving Palestinians a powerful platform to speak their truths through art. Kites, of course, have become an important symbol in Gaza over the past year - coming to stand for Palestinian resistance and freedom, a moment of joy amidst grief and destruction. This symbolism is deeply tied to the poem If I Must Die by Refaat Alareer, who was killed earlier this year in Gaza. He says ‘If I must die… you must live to buy a piece of cloth and some strings… so that a child, somewhere in Gaza… sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above, and thinks for a moment an angel is there bringing back love.’

Opening a film festival with a play was certainly an unconventional choice. At the post-show Q&A, Khaled Ziada, one of the festival’s founders, explained that this decision was made ‘for the challenge’, an opportunity for the festival to push boundaries and take risks. By challenging the conventional expectations of a film festival, the organisers displayed their commitment to different forms of storytelling and artistic expression. Yet, beyond defying expectations, A Grain of Sand proved to be a deeply moving and fitting curtain-raiser, highlighting the suffering of Gaza’s children. As Agha performs, the names and ages of the children whose stories inspired the play are projected behind her, anchoring Renad’s fictionalised journey in the tragic reality of Gaza. Her story, we are reminded, is but one grain of sand in a desert of countless untold stories.

The minimalist staging—a mound of sand, a chair, a screen, and Agha herself—magnifies the emotional weight of the performance. Agha’s exceptional talent shines as she effortlessly transitions between moments of hope and heartbreak. She recounts Palestinian folktales, such as the legend of the phoenix, a bird that rises from destruction, which becomes a symbol of hope for Renad. These moments of levity are interspersed with stark depictions of death, destruction, and despair, made even more harrowing by shifts in lighting and an evocative score.

The performance begins with waves crashing on the screen behind the stage, the music swells as Agha walks onto the stage, and sits on the lone chair. She begins by saying ‘When you love something and lose it, if you keep thinking about it it will come back to you’, and this opening line truly sets the tone for a journey shrouded in resilience amidst unimaginable grief. We watch Renad experience an airstrike hitting her home as tense music swells alongside the sounds of bombs dropping. We then watch Renad travel through Gaza, continuously thinking about her family, hoping that they will find her way back to her. We watch her experience the horrors of Al-Shifa hospital, we watch her as she is forced to evacuate the hospital, we watch her find a church to hide in, and we watch the church get bombed. In one unforgettable moment, she says that the Virgin Mary is still there, holding her son’s body amidst the rubble, ‘all mothers are the same’. We watch her starve, and we watch her lose and gain hope. The experience was harrowing and I was brought to tears on multiple occasions.

Quotes from Palestinian children are embedded in the narrative, and the testimony that is shared throughout the play tells a collective story of love, loss, yearning, and suffering - children express their fear of leaving their homes and their wishes for this war to end. We are reminded that children are innocent, they have done nothing to deserve this suffering - babies who have experienced only lives full of pain cannot understand that this is not normal. These children are tired; a quote from Ramadan Jazer stayed with me long after the performance: ‘How much longer before people start feeling’. For over a year now, we have watched the Israeli assault on Gaza on our screens; for over a year we have seen these people be mercilessly and senselessly slaughtered, Palestinians have had to put their suffering on display to be granted sympathy, and yet their suffering still has not ended. For over a year we have been complicit. A child shares his experience of loss; first, your house goes, and then your father because they believe he will fight back, next ‘mother’s and their comforting laps’. Loss is so deeply embedded into the lives of these children, as Renad says, that a second Palestine is being created in heaven.

The play concludes on a bittersweet note. We do not see Renad become successful in finding her family, but we do see her find food after weeks of starving. She is now by the sea and sees aid boxes floating close to the shore, she did have the opportunity to take them all for herself, but emulating the lessons from her father and the stories of how greed can ruin you from her grandmother, she only takes one can of beans and leaves the rest for the other children. And while this moment is undeniably heartbreaking, as we watch a child make sacrifices she should not have to make, we see Renad discover the phoenix as a symbol of hope within herself. While she may not have found her family, their teachings and essence are within her.

In the final moment of the performance, a list of names scrolls across the screen: the children of Gaza. Sarah Agha remains on stage for a moment, watching with the audience as the music swells before eventually leaving the stage. The music ends and the list carries on - the moment lasts long, too long, an unrelenting reminder of the scale of this genocide. Matar, in the Q&A panel, reminds us of the 17,000 children who have been orphaned in Gaza, and the 30,000 children left with just one parent. Tears streamed down my face as I realised that Renad’s story truly was just that of one girl, a grain of sand in an endless sea.

The book that A Grain of Sand was based on, A Million Kites can be purchased here, all profits will be donated towards helping the people of Gaza.