«Take a breath. Take a deep breath. Imagine smelling flowers,» the psychologist, who serves as a metaphor for the international community, keeps saying. «Think of the sea,» she says. «Think of the sun.» But #Hind Rajab#, with a tank pointed at her as the #IDF fires all around, continues to reply only: «Come get me. Please. Come get me.»

«I am alone, I am scared. Come get me.»

«Please.»

«Come get me.»

335 bullets

We all know the story of Hind Rajab, the 6-year-old killed in #Gaza on January 29, 2024, while fleeing south, toward #Rafah, with her uncles and four cousins, along a supposedly safe road—a road for IDPs. The car was recovered only on 10 February and was riddled with 335 bullets. The corpses, inside, were now bones scattered among the wreckage and rubble. But this film, set entirely in the #Red Crescent# HQ in #Ramallah, where the staff spends hours on the phone with her, trying to send an ambulance that will never arrive, is everyone else’s story.

It is our story.

This film is, first and foremost, the story of #Israel. When, finally, late at night, it allows the ambulance to reach the gas station where the car got stuck, less than 2 miles away, 8 minutes, it shoots at the ambulance—murdering the two doctors on board. It is the story of a #war in which, as in any war, in the end, no one is spared—neither the victim nor the executioner. Neither the winner nor the loser. But it is also, and above all, the story of Palestinians, and of the #Oslo Accords#, which, since 1995, have framed every interaction with the Israelis, imposing cooperation in every field, from the economy to security, under the illusion that step by step, this cooperation will develop into coexistence. And so, to travel those two miles, the ambulance needs «Coordination». From Gaza, the call is routed to the Red Crescent in Ramallah, which in turn calls the #Red Cross# in #Jerusalem, which in turn calls #COGAT, the Israeli unit in charge of civil affairs in the Territory, which is in Tel Aviv, and which in turn gets in touch with the IDF, which is on the ground, and which then calls COGAT, which calls Jerusalem, which calls Ramallah: over and over again. Back and forth. And Mahdi, the director of the Red Crescent, who strictly follows the rules, all the rules, including the smoking ban, with no exception, fights with Omar, the switchboard operator, whose sole priority is to get Hind Rajab out, and wants to call the ambulance directly, and tell its team to walk to the gas station, from house to house: because he knows that those rules make no sense.

«Come get me. Please. Come get me.»

The trap

Ask Israel’s permission to rescue those Israel bombs?

And yet, it is not a clash between the uncompromising, between the upright and the shady, or rather, it is not just that, it is not just a metaphor for the relationship between Palestinians and the #Palestinian Authority#. It is also the dilemma between pragmatists and idealists. Because the risk is that by breaking the rules, the ambulance team will be killed. The risk is even more deaths.

As will happen.

More than a dilemma, it is a trap.

And then it is the story of politics. Embodied by the Palestinian Authority’s Minister of Health, but it could be any of our ministers, any of our MPs, any of our diplomats. When he answers the phone, he finally replies resentfully that only one mediation channel should be activated at a time. And he hangs up. Because he was not the only one called, and in fact, he was the last. And what he cares about is only himself. What he cares about is only power.

And of course, this is also the story of the #media. To apply as much pressure as possible and get the coordination, at some point, the director of the Red Crescent orders his press officer to tweet everything live and appeal to the world so that the recording of the voice of Hind Rajab might stir consciences. «It won’t have any impact,» Omar, his counterpart, retorts. «She does not need solidarity. She needs an ambulance.»

For 58 years

The Red Crescent workers are exhausted; they have been there for hours, days, months, years, for 58 years. Due to the tension, nerves, guilt, and desperation, they end up bickering, losing unity and clarity. «You tried your best,» the psychologist repeats to those who collapse. «You tried everything you could. You are not responsible,» she says. And she reassures everyone. She absolves everyone. Even you, watching.

And everyone knows it is not true.