Huda Abu Jazar is one of many Gazans huddled around a screen on nights when Palestine play in the Arab Cup – where the team coached by her son, Ihab, has made history by reaching the quarter-finals.
She has not seen her son in three years, due to Israel’s war sealing the borders. But during the tournament, she speaks to the manager and his players every day.
Ms Abu Jazar, 62, asks about the line-up, the training – things she never knew before, she laughs. “Despite everything we are living through, the team brought joy into our hearts,” she told The National. “My soul is attached to his. I pray he raises the name of Palestine even higher.”
After opening the tournament with 1-0 win over hosts Qatar, Palestine rallied from two goals down to draw 2-2 with Tunisia before a 0-0 draw with Syria on Sunday night took them through as group winners. Their quarter-final opponents are yet to be decided.
"People tell me in the street: Your son made us proud," Ms Abu Jazar told The National. "We love him. I see happiness in their eyes.”
The late-night screenings are lighting up the darkness in Gaza as fans put the scarce electricity they have towards a moment of shared joy.
Gazans search for hours for a place to charge a laptop or a mobile phone. Improvised cafes made of tarpaulin and canvas light up at the roadside in areas such as Al Mawasi and Khan Younis, where thousands of families live in tents after Israel's destructive war.
Once the match kicks off, the streets fall nearly silent – everyone seems to be watching, somehow. Chants ripple across camps, flags are waved from tents, and posters of players are taped to canvas walls.
And with the Palestinian team – the Fida’i – making history by reaching the Arab Cup quarter-finals for the first time, their remarkable run has given Gazans a refuge in a landscape darkened by two years of war, displacement and loss.
Ms Abu Jazar has not seen her son for three years. Israeli restrictions prevented him from returning to Gaza and then war sealed the borders. But during the tournament, she speaks to him and the players every day.
“I ask him about the line-up, the training, things I never knew before,” she laughed softly. “My soul is attached to his. I pray he raises the name of Palestine even higher.”
Football cafes
Cafe owner Mohammed Abu Naji, 31, returned to Gaza city months ago with no job and nowhere to watch football. But a late-night Spanish league game changed everything.
“We couldn’t find a place to watch,” he said. “So a friend brought a screen to a guy who had electricity. We used an Israeli SIM card for internet. It was difficult, but we watched.”
Soon they turned the idea into a project: a small “football cafe” built entirely from canvas, charging a symbolic fee so fans could gather.
“When the Arab Cup started, the tent couldn’t hold the crowds any more,” he said. “People were desperate for something that made them feel alive.”
He sees something deeper in these gatherings. “Gaza is full of destruction, but people still search for a window of happiness,” he said. “Football gave them that.”
For Anas Abu Hani, 25, who lost his home in Rafah, the timing of the Arab Cup feels like a blessing. “I’m happy the tournament started during a truce,” he told The National. “For once, I can watch matches without fearing a missile or sudden death.”
He and his friends watch from a tent-cafe in Khan Younis, near the makeshift shelters where they live. “Before the war, we had screens and internet at home,” he said. “Now we’re all living in tents, but people still gather, still cheer, still wave their flags.
“Yesterday’s match was a symbol of unity. We love the Syrian national team as well and we want victory for them too. When both teams reaching the quarter-finals, our happiness was indescribable.”
The Fida’i’s historic run, he said, “felt like a message, that Palestinians can still rise, despite everything”.
In a place where war has erased much of daily life, people are rebuilding moments from the fragments left behind. Football has become more than a sport. It is a declaration: “We are still here,” Mr Abu Hani said. “We still feel joy. We still dream.”
