On 14 April, the Palestine Film Club screened its first film – The Voice of Hind Rajab, directed by Kaouther Ben Hania – in the Humanities building. The docu-fiction film uses real cellphone recordings between a six-year-old girl, Hind Rajab, and the Palestine Red Crescent Society (PRCS) after her family is killed in an assault by the Israel Defence Force (IDF) and she remains trapped in the car, pleading for help. Rajab survives the initial attack, but is then killed after spending several hours on the phone with the PRCS operators. The paramedics who were sent to rescue her were also killed by the IDF.
The filming in the call centre was a reconstruction played by actors, but the recordings were Rajab’s own voice. The film was brutal. Despite there being no physical violence, the violent actions of the IDF could still be clearly heard. In the background of Rajab’s desperation, the sound of shots being fired at the car can be heard. The sounds of violence surrounding her get closer, and as the audience, all you can do is listen. The recordings also create a sense of frustration and hopelessness. Instead of this being a typical Hollywood narration with a clear beginning and ending, the use of recordings in the film emphasise the real nature of the situation. None of this has been scripted. There is no telling what is going to happen next. As the audience, all you have is the knowledge that Rajab does not survive the attack. And all you can do is sit and listen to the IDF murder an innocent six-year-old girl, just as the PRCS operators had to.
I say “murder” because the events that led to Rajab’s death were so calculated and cruel. There is a moment of hope when the paramedics are finally on route to rescue her. There are obstacles along the way, but they finally reach where she is and can see the car that she is trapped in. Then suddenly, through phone recordings between the paramedics and the PRCS, shots are heard and the line goes silent.
The paramedics were given a “safe” route by the IDF to rescue Rajab, and when they made it to the car, they were gunned down. Along with this, the call centre operators mention that the IDF would have had infrared sensors on their tanks. They would have known that there was a young child alive in the car. This shows the intent in their actions. Watching the car, knowing that a child was struggling inside, knowing that an ambulance is coming, making that route possible, and then striking. Soon after, Rajab’s own line goes dead, and her body is discovered twelve days later.
One thing the film makes clear is that the conflict between Palestine and Israel is not a war. It is a genocide. The killing of Hind Rajab and her family was systematic. There was clear intention. Before the shooting happened, the IDF had told people to evacuate the area and then deliberately shot at them. There is a constant back-and-forth in discourse and on the news about what the conflict should be called and what international powers should be doing. Any person, after watching this film or even seeing any coverage of the genocide on social media, cannot still call it a war and claim neutrality. The proof is there. It is a genocide; deliberate and intentional. And Hind Rajab is just one victim in an entire nation.
This was one of the reasons behind showing this film. Ayesha Essop said that she wanted it to spark conversation and to get people to start taking action. There was a discussion at the end of the screening about the film and the experience of viewing it as a collective group. The overall feeling was one of hopelessness. Some students were crying, some just sat and took in the weight of what was screened. One argument discussed was that the screening was and is necessary, especially because the film uses the actual recordings from the attack on Hind Rajab. This not only allows for Rajab to be remembered, but it also gets people talking and pushes them to act.
Another argument, brought up by Prof. Nisa Paleker, was that as an audience, we are experiencing this trauma third hand. We are watching the trauma that the PRCS operators experienced while listening to the trauma that Rajab was experiencing, and in that moment, she was just trying to survive. So, it can become quite self-indulgent in the sense that as the audience, we have the privilege of walking away after the film, but for Rajab and the paramedics, these were the final moments of their lives.
I think this is quite relevant in the way awareness of the genocide is circulated online. Social media platforms are flooded with coverage, but in a few seconds, you’re scrolling to the next bit of celebrity gossip. People repost. Businesses are boycotted. But sitting on the couch reposting a reel doesn’t change the conditions of what is happening in Gaza. At least, it hasn’t yet. And the same can be said for this film. What happens now that the Palestine Film Club at the University of Pretoria has collectively viewed it?
Of course there is value in this screening. These conversations are had and there is an awareness of what is happening. Beyond that, as students, what more can we be doing? This isn’t a rhetorical question. Think about what you are doing here – whether it’s supporting the Palestine Solidarity Committee at UP or signing petitions, think about going beyond a repost on social media. UP has not made any statement condemning the genocide or even standing in solidarity with Palestinians. There were students at the film screening who have family members in Gaza, some the same age as Rajab. And yet, our institution remains neutral.
A student at the screening said that the people who should be watching the film and those who should be made aware of the atrocities are unfortunately not at the film screening. So as much as films can be screened, posts reposted, and conversations had, a shockingly vast majority still have no clear stance. They still won’t call it what it is – a genocide.
There will be more film screenings by the Palestine Film Club throughout the year. These are incredibly beneficial as they start the conversation about what activism looks like and how we, as second or third hand witnesses of these atrocities, can bring about positive change. The biggest take away from watching The Voice of Hind Rajab is this: call it what it is, and don’t leave what you’ve viewed on your screen.
