The Poetic Voice of Palestinian Resilience
‘I’m not one of you, not Palestinian… I’m dead… Or a martyr, but I don’t know if I truly qualify. Those who die defending their land are considered martyrs in our religion, but I died while simply making milk for my baby – perhaps I’m a ‘milk martyr’ or ‘pot martyr’ instead.
I was married to a nagging wife who always sought trouble. Our little baby would cry through the night, and when I asked her to make milk, she’d roll over, pretending to sleep. So, I often got up myself to stir milk on the stove. One fateful night, a bullet pierced through the window, into my chest and out my back.
Only four people attended my funeral – a shame for a renowned artist like Husam Abu Esheh. The Artists’ Syndicate should have announced my martyrdom properly. They brought me to the cemetery and dumped eleven of us haphazardly into one grave plot, crammed together with no dignity even in death. ‘Miss, if you don’t mind, your shoulder on the wall,’ I managed to say as we contorted among the bodies.
After they covered us with dirt, I heard an explosion. I found myself outside the grave, cursing a soldier on top of a tank who seemed to have bombed us again. ‘God damn you! We are dead, what’s left for the living?’ But it was my father calling out – poor man, still alive amid this chaos.
He invited me over for a simple meal of bread and water. ‘Bread and water for a martyr’s meal?’ I joked darkly. He reminded me that even Jesus ate such humble food. ‘Do you know why we love fish? Not for the phosphorus… It’s the nostalgia,’ I confessed, craving the taste of fresh Gaza fish, fried with sizzling oil in the mornings before the occupation stole our normalcy. My father laughed, ‘You’ve become a poet now.’
With these poignant words, Palestinian actor and storyteller Husam Abu Esheh falls silent, folding his hands as a soft smile graces his face.The last line of his dramatic monologue lingers in the air. We sit transfixed in the bittersweet story, transported to a surreal world where life, death, and absurdity are intertwined.
After a brief silence, Husam breaks character, his smile still lingering. He addresses us directly, ‘This is one of my own works. A piece I wrote and performed in several countries – ‘Because of the Baby’s Milk Bottle.’
Through his darkly comedic tales inspired by the aftermath of the Second Intifada, Abu Esheh confronts the harsh realities of life under occupation while celebrating the poetic beauty of Palestinian resilience. ‘I like to write stories about ordinary people,’ he explains, ‘not soldiers or fighters, but everyday individuals. I live among these people, and observe their daily struggles, and it inspires the stories I tell.’
Born and raised in Jerusalem’s Old City, Abu Esheh has dedicated four decades to captivating audiences with his unique comedic mastery, dramatic versatility and cultural storytelling. His career began in 1976 when he joined the Palestinian National Theater, where he studied performance art.
Abu Esheh’s passion led him to co-found pioneering theatre groups like the Popular Theatre and Al-Sanabel Theatre, while starring in radio, television, and film productions. Even during a three-year imprisonment under Israeli occupation, he taught and performed theatrical works alongside his fellow inmates. ‘There were seventy of us in one cell block, but every day, we rehearsed and performed plays. It was our way of keeping spirits up, never to be broken. Those experiences have had a profound influence on my stories and writings.’
In addition to performances, Abu Esheh has also served as a cultural ambassador: he edited the artistic pages of the magazine The Jerusalem Return and was president of the Palestinian Artists Syndicate. His influential voice and dedication have won him numerous awards, including the Haifa Children’s Theatre Festival’s Best Actor Award and the prestigious Golden Tanit in Carthage for ‘Stories Under Occupation’.
‘The occupation deeply affects our communities, especially the most vulnerable such as women and children’. Hugely invested in his local community, Abu Esheh also works as a drama teacher specialising in psychodrama – an approach that focuses on mental well-being and particularly targets youth and women living under the daily struggles of the occupation. Through psychodramatic techniques, he provides an expressive outlet and psychological support, empowering those grappling with their harsh reality.
What really sets Abu Esheh apart is his ability to seamlessly combine biting social commentary with profound humanism. His performances confront harsh truths through the lens of dark comedy, addressing complex issues with nuance and his clever wit, Abu Esheh finds both levity and poignancy in the Palestinian experience.
Abu Esheh’s work has captivated audiences in 42 countries, with more than 123 performances translated into 10 languages. ‘I have written, performed, and produced more than 10 critically acclaimed stories and plays that give voice to the simple desires of ordinary Palestinians who just want to live like everyone else.’.
