Writer and Director: Elias Matar
Of all the horrors to come out of recent years in Gaza, the attacks upon families, and particularly children, are the most distressing. Good Chance Theatre, known for its engagement with contemporary issues in The Jungle, Kyoto, and more, turns to the region with a tale that explores the devastation through the eyes of a young girl.
Sarah Agha, who co-devises the work with playwright and director Elias Matar, plays 11-year-old Renad, a lively young girl who, after a missile attack, becomes separated from her family. As she hunts for them, she takes solace in, and relates to us, the tales from pre-Islamic folklore that her missing grandmother would tell.
As Renad travels between places we normally regard as sanctuaries – hospitals, schools, even the beach – one of the key stories is of Anqaa, a phoenix who lives close to the sun and watches over the earth. The concept of a deity looking down from the heavens is one with which people of many faiths will be familiar, as is the frustration and despair when it seems that the same deity is allowing tragedy to occur without taking action.
As Renad’s quest continues, her monologue occasionally switches into verbatim text from the region’s children, previously published in a collection of poems and testimonies. It is a reminder that while Renad is fictional, her character is a proxy for hundreds, thousands of children in the region, many of whom have not survived. The words of so many young people talking about their pain and anguish with such maturity are heartbreaking.
And yet, despite all the emotional hardship that Renad goes through, Agha is careful to retain a sense of childishness, of joy and determination. Whether that’s portrayed through the 11-year-old’s mixture of emotions when she runs into her classroom nemesis in the hospital, or entertaining a room full of scared kids with the most scatalogical of her grandmother’s stories, there are perpetual reminders of the happiness and light that kids in the region deserve.
Natalie Pryce’s simple set – an oval mound of sand, and a curtain behind the performer on which Dan Light’s video projections accompany Agha’s performance – gives us a literal take on the show’s title. Elsewhere, we are told that Anqaa’s flight is so high in the sky that individuals are the size of grains of sand.
And yet A Grain of Sand reminds us that Renad is one of those pieces; as is each of the children whose testimonies are included in the work, or whose name is projected in the ever-growing list at the hour’s conclusion. Together, grains of sand make a beach, their individuality subsumed at scale – but remembering the individual children of Gaza is of vital importance.
Runs until 31 January 2026 and continues to tour
