Gaza’s concert grand piano is the image that inspires musicians like no other.
Khamis Abu-Shaban had finally returned to the music school where he taught, and which owns the keyboard, a few months after the current conflict.
What he saw at the Gaza branch of Edward Said National Conservatory of Music was “a disaster”.
“More that half of the Conservatory has been burned. All the instruments had been broken and thrown outside. As soon as you reach the Conservatory, you start seeing cases with instruments. Violins, more than 50 were completely smashed. Cellos, we had more than 40 completely smashed.
The Gaza branch of the Conservatory had more than 400 instruments, including both Western classical instruments and traditional Arabic instruments like the oud, the qanun, and the nay (a type of flute). Khamis said he felt “completely ruined”.
Then he saw something that lifted his spirits.
“The only…instrument that I saw standing was a grand piano. When I saw it, I smiled. I laughed and smiled.”
The Yamaha concert grand was also bombed in a previous conflict between Israel and Gaza’s rulers, Hamas, in 2014. It was then carefully restored by a French technician the following year. It became a symbol of many aspirations for the territory to develop a flourishing music culture.
Khamis says, “I began talking to the keyboard.” “I asked, ‘Are You the Only Survivor Of All The Instruments? You don’t wish to die? I laughed.”
Singing in Gaza
Tim Whewell, a journalist from Gaza, reported in 2015 about the rescue of Gaza’s sole concert grand piano following a previous conflict. He finds out now how musicians he knew then are surviving and working through the war. He finds out about a boy, who began playing the violin when he lost his right hand in an airstrike. He also learns about the grand piano’s second near-miraculous existence.
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The Israeli military operations around the school in north-west Gaza make it too dangerous for teachers and students. Instead, they started giving music classes to tens and thousands of displaced Gazan children who live in the makeshift camp where many Gazans are now residing.
They teach outside, under canvas awnings or in schools and refuges run by UNRWA (the United Nations agency which supports Palestinian refugees).
Khamis: “Life continues, and despite all the death around us, people still need something to make them smile. No one will be happy during this period, but they’ll be able continue on with their lives.”
Former students of the Conservatory are among the teachers who use whatever borrowed instruments they can locate, including 16-year-old violinist Sama Niijim. Mohammed Abu Eideh is one of her students. He lost his right arm in an airstrike.
He used to play his favourite instrument, the oud, but it requires two hands. Sama taught him violin by tying the violin bow to his arm using a scarf.
Osama Jakhjouh, a teacher at the Conservatory, made a nay (traditional flute) out of a plastic tube because the Conservatory’s nays were lost.
Fuad Khader says it was initially difficult to convince parents to allow their children to take part in activities.
“They asked, ‘People are dying and you want to learn kids to sing? ‘” he said. “But I told them that everyone has to do something. I’m a musician. This is my job.
Ahmed Abu Amsha is another teacher who says that the music lessons have had a transformative impact on the children.
“After a few days, the parents came to me. They said: ‘You changed our children. They are improving. They are singing and laughing.
He adds, “Sometimes when we’re singing a song, there’s an explosion that makes us stop and look at eachother. I tell them: “Don’t worry. Let’s continue.” I have to be strong when I am in front of children. In some moments, the children forget that they are fighting.
“But when they leave, I’m weak,” he says.
“It feels like I’m sucking all the bad energy out of the kids.” When I try going to sleep, I get a horrible feeling. [I’ll be] thinking about a child – how he has seen dead bodies on the street, his father is deceased, his sister and uncle… Each kid has a tale to tell, so I try and heal them.
Khamis Abu-Shaban hopes that students will be able to play the grand piano again one day.
He says that he opened the lid when he saw it the last time, several months after the war, and found that some strings and hammers had been broken.
He said, “I know how an instrument can get damaged.” “A hammer can’t be broken by shock waves alone, for example. Someone has opened the hammer and begun sabotaging it from within.”
But Khamis is still ecstatic about having seen the piano.
He laughs. “Now, I still see it standing in front me.” “It is telling me that I’m not a person who dies. I’m here for you. “And I will stay.
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