Relief through art and laughter in Lebanon

Hello dear supporter

Lebanon has been through so much, but for one magical week, laughter took over! Between the 19th and 25th of july, our red noses led an emotions tour across the country. Eleven shows popped up in community centers, on the streets and in courtyards, turning worry into giggles and curiosity into cartwheels.

We reached 1,500 kids and 250 adults, all ready to explore their feelings with us. After all, sometimes the best therapy is a pie in the face, followed by a big, silly group hug.

On a different note, we are writing this report now, from the airport coming back from Egypt where we gave three days of psychosocial support sessions to 30 kids coming from Gaza. 

and we had the most beautiful performance last night. 

here's one #diaryofaclown entry" 

Last night was our final night with the children and families of Gaza here in Egypt.

Three days of art, games, colors, and laughter wrapped around trauma, exile, longing.

We ended with my usual wedding scene.

One child, with a smile wider than the Nile, shouted: 

“This is the best wedding I’ve ever been to.”

I felt the same.

We played with mothers, and the few fathers who could come,

our noses red, our hearts raw.

I “married” a man, one of the drivers who brings these children from tiny homes to this fragile space of play.

The audience howled with laughter during the scene.

But the real magic didn’t live in the jokes or the games.

It lived in that last song.

When the music rose, children and clowns all rose too.

We climbed the stage and began to dance as if our bodies could shake the war off.

As if every kick of a foot, every clap, could scrub the memory of fear and rubble.

It lived in that Palestinian flag fluttering in a place where flags are dangerous,

where protests are forbidden,

where grief must stay quiet.

Last night, it breathed on stage.

It lived in that woman, ohh that woman, 

the one who never stood,

who danced only with her hands,

who smiled at me with wet eyes that told the whole story:

her sorrow, her strength, her tiny rebellion against despair.

It lived in the chaos of it all:

the ululations and Arabic drums,

the children leaping as if the floor had turned to clouds,

the mothers both laughing and crying,

and us, clowns,

grateful to have built, for one night,

a trembling bubble of joy

in this brutally unfair world.

Thank you for being you, for supporting us.