In the heart of Gaza, sounds transform from the pulse of life to the echo of death. This is how the documentary film “Gaza… The Voice of Life and Death,” broadcast by the Al Jazeera 360 platform, depicts the transformation that has occurred in the Gaza Strip’s soundscape since the outbreak of war.
Through the microphone of sound engineer Muhammad Yaghi, and through this film, we stand on the story of the voices in Gaza Strip In a unique way, they become witnesses to an escalating human tragedy.
The alleys of Gaza would wake up every day to the calls of vendors, the laughter of children on their way to school, and the chirping of birds that filled the space. Yaghi remembers those days with nostalgia, but today that morning symphony has been replaced by the sounds of bombing, destruction, cries of pain, and the sound of explosions that puncture the stillness of the night.
Throughout his professional career, Yaghi documented defining moments in the lives of Gazans. He recalls with emotion the first sound he recorded – the cry of a newborn baby. He says, “It was a strange feeling to record the sound of the first breath… the sound of the cry, the beginning of a life that has become non-existent in Gaza.”
This stark contrast between the sound of new life and the silence of death that hangs over Gaza today embodies the tragedy experienced by the residents of the Strip in all its painful details.
Meanings of sounds
The war not only changed the sounds heard, but also changed their deep meanings and connotations. The sound of large transport vehicles, which was a symbol of movement and life, has now become an echo of displacement and forced displacement, and the sounds of crying, which were rare and limited, now fill the streets and camps, carrying with them endless stories. Of loss and pain.
In the midst of this tragic transformation, Yaghi finds himself documenting sounds that he never imagined he would record. He says, “The most difficult moment is when I hear the sounds that I recorded and find that I recorded a lot of sounds… first aid, people screaming, others crying, pain, and the conversations of doctors, nurses, and journalists.”
In the displacement camps, voices intersect and stories mix in a touching human scene. Yaghi describes the scene by saying, “There are stories and tales from those in the camps that I hear in different dialects… This is from Beit Hanoun, this is from Jabalia, and that is from Shujaiyya and others.”
The tent becomes a symbol of a harsh new life, as Tariq Al-Shawa, one of the displaced people, puts it: “The tent means captivity, it means a life that is difficult to get used to, even if we live a lifetime beyond our age… A tent is a very bad thing.”
The Gaza night, which was previously a haven of calm and tranquility, turned into a stage for the sounds of terror and fear. Instead of the whispering laughter of friends, it became filled with the sounds of artillery, planes, and drones, which became a “main sound” in all recordings, as sound engineer Yaghi says.
A ray of hope and life
Amidst this bitter reality, heroic attempts emerge to preserve a glimmer of hope and life. We see this in the scenes of entertainment groups presenting performances for children in asylum schools, in an attempt to create moments of joy amidst the surrounding sea of sadness.
But even in these moments, we hear in the children's voices a deep nostalgia for their former lives, their lost toys, and their dreams that were scattered with the wind.
The film tells the story of the child Khalil Abu Shaaban, who was injured in the bombing of Zenana, through the testimony of his sister, Zeina, who spoke about his dream of becoming an interior designer, and asked in a voice choked with tears: “Is it possible that he suddenly goes and disappears from us?”
This story, like thousands of other stories in Gaza, embodies the sudden loss of dreams and hopes, turning life in a moment of relative safety into an endless nightmare.
The sound of rubble
Yaghi also talks about the voices of survivors from under the rubble after the bombing of a house, the cries for help, the groans of the injured, and the calls of families for their missing relatives. He adds, “When I hear their voices, I try to imagine what they were doing before they were bombed and what they were talking about.”
Yaghi compares the sounds he recorded in Gaza before and after the war, and says: “If I had not recorded them and I still have them, I would have forgotten them… the sound of the people, the sea, and the fluttering of laundry… their sounds were all life.”
Even people's steps have changed… Yaghi says this and adds: “Before the war, I used to record the sound of people's steps as they walked in the streets and on the sea, and today, during the war, I record their steps as they flee from death and flee from one place to another.”
The film leaves the viewer with a painful audio image of Gaza during the war, which these days marks the first anniversary of its start. Yaghi says in painful words: “I recorded many sounds in my life, but the moment of separation and death contains great dread… There is a breath that was coming in and out and suddenly it stopped.”