Among them is Ahmed Abu Amsha, a music teacher who has become a humanitarian troubadour.
Fleeting moments of joy
Living in a tent with his family, he refuses to let despair drown with hope. Instead, he teaches music to displaced children, helping them find moments of joy through rhythm and song.
Originally from Beit Hanoun, Abu Amsha is a guitar instructor and regional coordinator at Edward’s National Conservatory of Music, he said. Since the war began, his family has been displaced 12 times. Every time they fled, they took their instruments.
“They are the only thing that keeps us hopeful,” he said, sitting next to water bottles outside his store, a guitar resting gently in his lap.
Daily horror
Daily life in camp is a difficulty routine: narrow alleys, water tails, a constant struggle to survive. However, within this desolation, Abu Amsha has created something extraordinary: Gaza Bird Singing (GBS), a musical group composed of children displaced with budding talents.
The idea occurred during a period of displacement in Al-Mawasi, Khan Younis, where he began training the children to sing and play. Since then, the group has acted in several camps, its music resonates on social networks and offers a rare vision of hope in the midst of rubble.
Hold on to music
His son Moein, who plays the Ney, a wind instrument in the end similar to a flute, takes his instrument wherever they go. “We have been displaced more than 11 times, and I always carry my Ney with me. It’s the only thing that helps me forget the sound of bombing,” he said.
Finding a quiet space is difficult, but try to practice inside their store, wrapped in chaos.
For Yara, a young violinist who learns under the guide of Abu Amsha, every new displacement deepens his anxiety. “But every time I’m afraid, I play. Music makes me feel safe,” he said.
Under the camp’s canvas roofs, children gather to play, starting ropes, blowing wind instruments, taking advantage of the rhythms in existence, trying to transcend the horrible soundtrack of the war.
Ahmed Abu Amsha (right, guitar) surrounded by children who play, sing and learn music.
Sacred space
In a place stripped of needs, the sound of music feels surreal and sacred.
However, Abu Amsha remains firm in her mission. “We sing for peace, we sing for life, we sing to Gaza,” he says softly, while the Oud melody rises behind him, a fragile beauty in a scene shattered by war.