Even before the war, cinema was never really a part of everyday life in Gaza. Most movie theaters disappeared decades ago and the culture of cinemagoing has faded from the lives of the younger generations. But this war has taken far more from children than just the few remaining movie theaters. They have lost schools, libraries, parks, football pitches—all of the places where kids are supposed to be able to experience the world without fear.

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Since the beginning of the genocide, the majority of Gaza’s cultural centers have been heavily damaged or destroyed entirely. Artistic and educational programs that once provided an outlet for young people have largely ground to a halt. Education has also been heavily disrupted. Most schools have been destroyed, while the ones that remain standing have been turned into shelters for displaced people. Hundreds of thousands of children have been out of school for almost three years. Against this backdrop, small initiatives have begun to bring back some semblance of normal life. One of them is Haws Cinema, the passion project of sisters Shaimaa and Safaa Dhabban.

“We started by removing the rubble that had blocked the path to the cinema. It took months, and we did it by hand because we couldn’t get heavy machinery.”

Big projects often begin with small ideas. The idea for Haws Cinema arose from an old family habit. Shaimaa says that she and her sister have always loved animated movies, and would sit down to watch them together every day after school when they were younger. With Gaza’s children living through an unprecedented period of isolation and terror, Shaimaa and Safaa wondered if that passion could be shared. “The idea was to take this experience to a bigger space,” she tells me. “We wanted to do something different and share our experience of cinema with the children of Gaza.”

The sisters’ backgrounds also influenced the project. Shaimaa graduated from college with a degree in information technology. Before the war, she worked as a graphic designer. Safaa studied English and translation in college, having translated movies and TV shows for fun since she was 16. Safaa used to run an online business selling Korean food. Today, she is raising twin daughters, alone, ever since her husband was killed in the early days of the conflict. For the sisters, the project is both a labor of love and an attempt to generate a vital source of income, but its primary purpose is to give children a space that feels different from their everyday reality, where they can escape the noise of planes and the constant news of war. 

“Our first task had nothing to do with a projector or sound system,” Safaa remembers. “We started by removing the rubble that had blocked the path to the cinema. It took months, and we did it by hand because we couldn’t get heavy machinery.”

Sourcing electricity became a daily struggle. The sisters thought about solar, but it was too expensive. They switched to a generator, but the power kept failing. They eventually bought a backup generator, but that needed fuel—which had become rare and very expensive. The area doesn’t have much internet access because the infrastructure has been destroyed. “I stay up all night trying to download films,” Safaa says. “The internet keeps cutting out.”

For children who have survived one of the most brutal wars imaginable, choosing an appropriate film is of the utmost importance.

Getting the screening room ready was another challenge. They had to encase the area in tarpaulins, fabric, and metal sheets to create a darkened space. These basic materials are now very expensive because there are heavy restrictions on the entry of raw materials into Gaza. “We spent a lot of money preparing very simple things for the cinema,” Safaa says. “It’s taking a constant toll on our resources and putting our ability to keep going at risk.” Even after the cinema opened, there were significant challenges.

“The shelling hasn’t stopped,” Shaimaa says. “It causes a lot of damage to the space and the equipment.”

For children who have survived one of the most brutal wars imaginable, choosing an appropriate film is of the utmost importance. The right selection can help to ease the effects of trauma, while the wrong one risks reproducing it.

“We make sure to choose entertaining films that are free of violence,” Shaimaa says.

She explains that they watch every film in full before screening it to make sure it’s appropriate. This may sound simple, but it reflects the project’s philosophy. The goal is not just to keep kids busy, but also to support their emotional health. The sisters recognize that children in Gaza do not need to be exposed to more of what they have already lived through. They need to see a different world, even if that world is imaginary. After screenings, discussions about films often continue—both in person and online—with children and parents sending the sisters suggestions for films through social media. Over time, a visit to Haws Cinema has become an interactive experience that combines both entertainment and education. During screenings, Shaimaa watches the children closely, paying attention to their expressions and reactions.

“When we see the effect of a film on their faces, we know that we have succeeded, even if only briefly, in taking the war out of their imagination.”

Safaa says that while a lot of people have been coming to the screenings, the economy in Gaza is so bad that many families can’t afford even the cheapest tickets. Mass unemployment and the collapse of household incomes mean that any extra expense can become a debilitating burden. A breakdown in transportation infrastructure has also prevented many children from attending. Despite all this, the sisters believe that having places for children to play and relax is just as important as any other wartime necessity. Haws Cinema offers a rare opportunity for children in Gaza. Many do not have access to television, for the simple reason that most homes have been destroyed. Even when a working set is available, there is often no electricity to use it.

Shaimaa remembers a lone child who bought two tickets to one of the screenings. When she asked him why, he replied: “One is for me, and the other is for my brother who was killed.”

The children’s reactions to the big screen show what that loss means. Safaa remembers one child who told her that he wished he could take the cinema screen back to his tent so he could enjoy it for as long as possible. Then he realized that it wouldn’t work. “The tent is barely big enough for his family.”

Another girl told her: “I had a small phone that I used to watch videos and films, but the screen broke, and my father could no longer afford to have it repaired. I came to the cinema to watch the films I like.”

Shaimaa remembers a lone child who bought two tickets to one of the screenings. When she asked him why, he replied: “One is for me, and the other is for my brother who was killed. We used to watch movies together, and I don’t want to watch the movie alone.”

The future Shaimaa and Safaa envision goes beyond keeping the current screenings running. They dream of creating a true cinema for the children of Gaza; a place that could become a permanent part of the city’s cultural life after the war, a place where children can gather and escape the images of destruction that have become the backdrop to their lives.

“If a child has lost someone close to them,” says Shaimaa, “the least we can do is let them watch a movie in a cinema where they can’t hear the sounds of war. For a moment, a film can make them feel that life will continue.”

The true meaning of Haws Cinema becomes clear when the film ends and the children return to their tents, shelters, and damaged homes. The war is still there. Nothing outside has changed. But for ninety minutes or so, they have shared an experience with other kids, laughed together and watched a story unfold that had nothing to do with the destruction around them. Haws cannot change the reality these children return to. It cannot rebuild a school, restore a home, or bring back someone they have lost. But it can offer them a few hours in which their lives are not defined by war.

For Shaimaa and Safaa, that is reason enough to keep going.