Diana Antunes

One year later, memories from an expired roll, taken in and around Jenin Camp during the final days before the camp was brutally occupied and its people displaced by Israeli forces. Nearly a year has passed since Operation Iron Wall began on January 21 in Jenin Camp, triggering one of the largest displacement crises in the West Bank since 1967. Around 20,000 people were forced from their homes, barred from returning, as the camp was converted into a military zone. Almost a year of displacement. Explosions from inside the camp arrive more and more often now, their echoes carrying beyond the camp. Seen from above, the landscape keeps changing: the ground shifts, buildings disappear, and all that remains is uncertainty. What will be left of the camp when, or if, its gates finally open?

Tomorrow marks one year since the beginning of Operation Iron Wall and the evacuation of the Jenin Camp. These are analog memories of the last day I spent in the Camp, at the end of a month-long operation carried out by the Palestinian Authority, under Israeli command, with the clear objective of taking control of the camp and eliminating any form of armed resistance. Violence was constant. Electricity and water were cut, and daily life collapsed into survival. Streets became firing zones. Snipers occupied the rooftops surrounding the camp, watching, waiting, shooting. Movement was never predictable, what was possible one minute could become lethal the next, as different areas of the camp shifted in risk and exposure without warning. The victims multiplied, resistance fighters and civilians alike, lives interrupted in different ways but by the same force. Still, on that final day, I left the camp carrying a fragile hope that the resistance would endure, that Jenin Camp might still be protected by those who refused to abandon it. Days later, just after the so-called ceasefire in Gaza, Israel joined the Palestinian Authority to conclude the operation, marking a major escalation of military activity in the West Bank. Hundreds of Israeli troops entered the camp, special forces backed by drones, armored vehicles, and bulldozers as Palestinian Authority forces withdrew and Israel assumed full control on the ground. Drone strikes targeted what Israel described as militant infrastructure. Missiles were launched over Jenin Camp. The area was evacuated, seized, and converted into a military base. Its residents were displaced once again. *the children shown in the images are holding toy weapons.

Hoje, às 21h, apresentamos a última sessão. Dizem por aí que ainda há alguns bilhetes disponíveis (link direto no perfil). Vamos lá encerrar esta etapa de sala cheia 🤍 Fotografias de @carlogomes , no @teatrao . O nosso agradecimento à @critical.software , @tumo_coimbra , @turilux , @fadeinleiria , @inpulsar_ , @municipioleiria , @teatromiguelfranco , @teatrao , @clubefenianos , @abarracateatro , xananetoferreira , @afonsereno e a todos os que ajudaram a tornar este projeto possível 🫶🏼

8h30. That was the time it took us to cover 114 km, from Jenin to the Jordanian border. 8 hours and 30 minutes of silences imposed by weapons watching over each checkpoint, flags reminding us who’s in charge, walls cutting through the landscape and deciding where we can and cannot step. Through the windows, men sit in the dust, hands tied, while cars, lives, and stories are stopped by the army. After 8 hours and 30 minutes, we finally crossed the last border. We left Jenin at 6 in the morning, and only at 2:30 p.m., 114 km later, did we enter Jordan. Today, in that same span of time, we’re traveling another 5,822 km. Amazing how quickly kilometers pass once you leave an occupied territory. Tomorrow we kick off our tour, we hope to see you there. Now it’s just a matter of selling out the shows, and we’re counting on you to help us make that happen 🤍 See you soon! 8h30. Foi esse o tempo que levámos para percorrer 114 km, de Jenin até à fronteira com a Jordânia. 8h30 de silêncios impostos por armas que vigiam cada checkpoint, bandeiras que lembram quem manda, muros que cortam a paisagem e definem onde podemos ou não pisar. Pelas janelas, homens sentados no pó, mãos atadas, enquanto carros, vidas, histórias são travadas pelo exército. Depois de 8h30, cruzámos finalmente a última fronteira. Saímos de Jenin às 6h da manhã e só às 14h30, 114 km depois, entrámos na Jordânia. Hoje, no mesmo intervalo de tempo, seguimos para mais 5.822 km. Impressionante como os quilómetros passam depressa quando se sai de um território ocupado. Amanhã damos início à nossa tour, esperamos ver-vos por lá. Já só falta esgotar as salas e contamos convosco para nos ajudar nisso 🤍 Até já!

Amigos, para quem não teve oportunidade de ler o artigo no @regiaodeleiria , partilho convosco que vou regressar a Portugal acompanhada por um grupo de jovens do Campo de Refugiados de Jenin, com a peça de teatro @15and16yearsold produzida pelo @thefreedomtheatre e encenada por @mahmuod_aita . A peça revela o quotidiano das crianças do Campo de Refugiados de Jenin, suspensas entre a infância e uma idade adulta que lhes chega demasiado cedo. Num lugar onde quase 90% das famílias perderam pelo menos uma criança às balas do exército israelita, a ausência deixou de ser exceção: tornou-se rotina. Crescer, em Jenin, é aprender a viver sob a sombra constante da morte. A estreia será no Teatro Miguel Franco, em Leiria, a 19 de setembro, seguindo depois para o Porto, Clube Fenianos Portuense a 23 de setembro e encerrando em Lisboa, no Teatro da Barraca, nos dias 26 e 27 de setembro. A data em Coimbra será anunciada brevemente. Os bilhetes estarão disponíveis em breve e a receita reverterá integralmente para cobrir esta iniciativa e apoiar o The Freedom Theatre. Esta vinda a Portugal permitirá ao grupo não apenas partilhar a sua realidade, mas também viver experiências até hoje negadas, como a de ver o mar, que apesar de estar a apenas 60 km de distância, lhes foi sempre inacessível devido às fronteiras impostas pela ocupação. Qualquer fundo extra será entregue na totalidade ao grupo e ao The Freedom Theatre, que desde janeiro deste ano ficou sem espaço físico, transformado em base militar após a ocupação e evacuação do campo. Peço-vos que sigam a página @15and16yearsold para acompanhar todas as informações sobre os espetáculos em Portugal e que ajudem a divulgar esta pequena tour, organizada em cima da hora devido às dificuldades na obtenção dos vistos, mas preparada com muita vontade e amor. Espero ver-vos por lá, para partilharmos juntos este momento 🤍 English version in the comments 👇

There are days when the fire doesn’t fall from the sky,it rises from the ground. It explodes from accumulated silence, from pain that ferments, from a scream that was held in too long. On October 7, 1944, in Auschwitz, the Jewish prisoners forced to carry bodies, to clean up the traces of horror, to keep the machinery of death running, said “enough”. They knew they wouldn’t make it out alive, but they refused to die in silence. They used what they had, what they managed to hide, what was left of courage in a place where everything had been stripped away, to blow up the crematoria and attack the guards. They died, but they died standing. Decades later, also on October 7, also surrounded, also emptied of any glimpse of future, Gaza shouted the same no. A no made of bodies, of rage, and of exhaustion, from those who had been reduced to spectators of their own extinction. They did what only those who have lost everything are capable of doing: they jumped from the burning cell, knowing that on the other side there was only more fire. (continued in comments)

[PT] O documentário Bukra, realizado por @ditunes , foi selecionado para o CEDOC Co-Production Market 2025, que terá lugar entre 28 e 30 de maio, em Cracóvia, na Polónia, no contexto do prestigiado @krakowfilmfestival . Esta será a primeira vez que uma produção portuguesa participa neste mercado, considerado um dos mais importantes da indústria do documentário na Europa. Bukra é uma longa-metragem documental filmada no Campo de Refugiados de Jenin, na Palestina. O projeto acompanha, ao longo de quatro anos, a luta quotidiana de uma comunidade que resiste à violência e à ocupação através da arte, da educação e da solidariedade. [EN] The feature documentary Bukra, directed by @ditunes , was selected for CEDOC Co-Production Market 2025, which takes places from May 28th to May 30th, in Krakow, Poland, as part of the prestigious @krakowfilmfestival . This is the first time a Portuguese production is selected for the event, one of the most important in the European documentary industry. Bukra was shot in the Jenin Refugee Camp, in Palestine. For now over four years, the project has been following the everyday fight of a resisting community to violence and occupation, through art, education and solidarity.

Analog has this special magic of bringing back memories that we had almost forgotten. Behind-the-scenes glimpse of a weekend of filming in Copenhagen with the beautiful family crew @moremaria.pt , @kellybaileyy and @lourencoortigao . A huge thank you to @judas.rocks and @pg_cia for trusting me with such a fun project ✨ B&W film developed by @xano.lab | Color by @carmencitalisboa

I have always considered myself disconnected from any ideology not rooted in the reality of everyday life. For me, death as always felt natural, part of the dance of encounters and farewells we call life. The only certainty I’ve ever had is that, one day, I will die. Perhaps because I’ve accepted this with such lightness, my own death has never frightened me. Maybe that’s why I was able to stay in Palestine all this time. But it was there that my relationship with religion began to shift, especially when I realized that faith is what sustains the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. Their faith became a window through which I came to understand not just their resilience, but their humanity. Over the last year and a half, I’ve learned that when rest is a luxury and death a constant, the way we handle pain changes. There’s no escaping such profound pain without, in some way, faith becoming the bridge between the end and a new beginning. Today, when I received the news of Khalil’s death, memories came flooding back. Exactly 1 month ago, we were planning a final Makluba before I returned to Portugal. Khalil was one of the victims of the “Iron Wall” operation carried out by the occupation forces this morning in Jenin, which has already claimed 10 lives and left over 90 injured. I remembered one of the days I went into his cybercafe to surprise him. With a blank look in his eyes, he told me Mohammed had been killed: “They killed my last friend.” I remembered the message I sent him this morning, exactly an hour before I heard of his death, in response to the photo he shared with Mohammed on his stories. And I remembered the times he’d say, “I’m going to die here and one day I’ll join my brother and Mohammed.” Amidst all these memories, I opened my phone and searched for images that reminded me of his smile. I came across a video I filmed one day at his cybercafe, where he and Mohammed were laughing together in the back of the room. Pain, no matter how deep, never walks alone. It brings, unexpectedly, a silent faith, a belief that death is not the end, but only the passage to something greater. May you finally be reunited 🕊️

Abo Loay Awartani

Dear Siham, Jenin, March 2024

“For three years, a friend and I struggled to get a visa to leave Palestine. Every week, we spoke with our attorney and kept up with the application, hoping for a breakthrough. One afternoon, while I sat alone on a hill overlooking Jenin Camp, my friend called to say he had received his visa and that mine was being processed. At that moment, while sitting alone on a hill, with my phone pressed to my ear, I looked below, I could see the entire Camp from where I was. “Thank you, but I’m not going to leave Palestine”. 🤍 Jenin Refugee Camp, Feb 2024