The Donkey who Carried the War on her Back by Hooda Al Shawa illustrated by Sienny Septibella

This 44 page story told from Zahra’s perspective, a donkey in Gaza, juxtaposes her life and what she sees before the bombardment of Gaza with after, and the determination and hope that drives her and her owner Sami to help. I love that it shows the daily joy, beauty and the resilience in the face of attempted erasure. By using the donkey as the protagonist, the book is able to explain and show realities in a manner that remains simplified, removed, apolitical, but informative none-the-less, for young children. The book was created with the collaboration of the Tamer Institute for Community Education who’s vision is, “Towards a Free and Safe Palestinian Learning Society,” so, I’m not sure that my opinion counts for anything, but I do worry that the “telling” comes with the words the donkey hears of “sanctions, closures, embargoes, blockade,” but the “showing” comes when “one day, a war came to my city.” It feels like it could be interpreted that life was fine and then one day it wasn’t, and yes, the backmatter defines the words, but it doesn’t “show” the donkey at checkpoints, or show any previous destruction, or struggles.  Presumably the book wants to show the joy and beauty of Gaza to humanize a population that the global media is endlessly working to dehumanize, but the framing and the memorability paints a picture that to my acknowledged outsider, non Palestinian heart, feels dismissive of years of oppression, and aligns with the erroneous narrative that it started in October 2023. That isn’t to say the story is not important,  I think that with guided conversation and contemplation, the book will show children what Gaza looked like before the attacks by the occupation, the importance of pack animals such as donkeys, and why the people of Gaza dream of freedom.

The book starts with Zahra the donkey standing on green grass with buildings and the ocean in the background, acknowledging that Gaza is not an “ordinary city.”  She hears words in the market place that the greengrocers call out “sanctions,” “closures” “embargoes, “blockade,” and hears that the people cannot travel or leave, “that life is difficult and RESTRICTED!” But despite that, she enjoys carrying things in her wooden cart as she makes deliveries, food, solar panels, strawberries, stopping with Sami to get ice cream.

Then when the war hits, the city is turned to rubble, and people must live in tents. Zahra and Sami’s daily routine changes, they transport ration supplies, serve as an ambulance, transporting families to refugee camps, and the border with Egypt to try and leave. The sounds of crying are devastating, but she also hears laughter, and music, and stories from the hakawati.

I like that what they deliver is defined to explain what she is carrying “mahshi kousa,” although it seems like a translation error perhaps and should be “kousa mahshi” with the noun coming first, but again, what do I know. It appears the author is Palestinian Kuwaiti, but there is no mention in the text of the book about any religion, or indication online of the author or illustrator’s faith identity,  I share this not for its Islamic rep, but for solidarity and awareness.  There are visible Muslims in the illustrations.