June 2025. Iranian missiles streak across the sky above Ramallah, intercepted overhead, while the roar of Israeli fighter jets fills the night as they head east to bombard Iran.
Amid this unfolding war, I sit with my father, Adel Tartir, in the courtyard of my parents’ home. Beside me, he is colouring his 12th Sandouq El-Ajab (Wonderbox), choosing an unexpected colour – vivid, vibrant pink, full of life.
Only a few days remain before we complete our work on “A Journey through the Worlds of the Wonderbox”, an exhibition in Ramallah celebrating the 12 Sandouq El-Ajabs that he conceived, designed and developed over the course of three decades to tell the Palestinian story.
A pioneer of Palestinian children’s theatre and the creator of the beloved character Abu Al-Ajab, whose name later became synonymous with his theatrical school, my father devoted his life to safeguarding Palestinian storytelling, imagination and cultural heritage.
As the explosions grew louder and the night deepened, he carefully applied the final layers of colour to his 12th wonderbox, patiently perfecting every brushstroke.
At the same time, he narrated the opening speech he had already composed in his imagination – not as a conventional address, but as a theatrical performance that neither war nor rockets could silence. When he finished rehearsing it, he looked at me, smiled quietly, and whispered: “And with this, I conclude.”
A few days later, we began carrying the wonderboxes out of his theatre in the old city of Ramallah and transporting them to the exhibition hall. I sent my mother, Tahani, a photograph to show her our progress. Her heart tightened. She struggled to breathe, yet remained silent.
The following afternoon, just one day before the exhibition was due to open, I left the final frame for my father to hang later that evening – a small gesture that would complete the installation. As I walked away, my mother called. My father had just been admitted to the emergency department.
I rushed to the hospital, unable to stop thinking about that last frame still waiting to be hung.
Hours later, he closed his eyes forever.
I stood beside him, holding the hand I had loved all my life and kissing his broad forehead as he whispered his final words to me: “Don’t forget, my son – our life is theatre, and theatre is our life.”
On 10 July 2025, Adel Tartir passed away.
He was not only my father. He was, in every sense, a father of Palestinian theatre.
Four days later, on 14 July 2025, we opened the exhibition as planned. What had been conceived as a celebration of his life’s work became a tribute to his extraordinary journey.
The exhibition traced the many stages of a life devoted to theatre, storytelling and Palestine – a life that he always insisted on describing simply as “a temporary story”, never a finished biography.
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Alaa Tartir, Program Director of Al-Shabaka, Engaged Scholar, Global Citizen 