Told by My Mother, directed and choreographed by Ali Chahrour, was presented at HAU2 on 6 and 7 June 2026. These were the final performances of the work before its retirement, following its premiere in Beirut in 2021 and an extensive international tour.
Through musical storytelling in Arabic and movement, Told by My Mother unfolds as a poetic act of remembrance. In the opening scene of Ali Chahrour’s tribute to the mothers of Lebanon through the stories of his aunts Leila and Fatima, Hala Omran stands onstage and speaks. He is accompanied live by Ali Hout (percussion) and Abed Kobeissy (buzouk), seated upstage.
In 2012, Hassan went to Syria and never returned.
He was Fatima’s son. He was 27 years old.
In 2015, Fatima got a message from Syrian authorities to collect Hassan’s belongings.
The performers appear without theatrical embellishment, dressed in everyday clothing—simple shirts and trousers, with the exception of Leila Chahrour, who wears a black dress that covers her entire body and a hijab.
The piece tells two stories: A victory of a mother in keeping her son alive (Leila and Abbas Al Mawla, who are themselves among the live performers), and a tragedy of a mother losing her son and searching for him till her death (Fatima and Hassan, who we meet only in recordings). By telling these stories, Chahrour says in the post-show talk, he is insisting that people who vanished without getting justice are not just numbers.
Omran sings.
Hassan, you are my heart.
Fatima’s final words before her death were,
“When Hassan returns, tell him I looked for him.”
When Leila first sings offstage, unseen, I assume the voice belongs to a man. Then she emerges onto the stage, continuing her song with her deep, raw, and poignant voice.
I saw you in my dream.
Oh Hassan, you were crying tears of blood.
Tears roll down my cheeks. I hear subdued sobs of many other audience members throughout the show. Leila and Fatima’s stories represent those of countless people affected by wars. Leila has been living in a school because her house in South Lebanon has been destroyed by the Israeli war. Although she is currently ill, she insisted on performing because she believes in the power of theatre. That power, says Ali Chahrour after the show, lies in its ability to connect people on a human level, even in the absence of shared context. “If a bomb doesn’t drop on your own house, it doesn’t mean it’s not your story,” he adds.
Kobeissy, facing his back to the audience, points the long neck of his buzouk at Abbas like a gun. Leila comes to hold it, gently turns Kobeissy’s body around, and sends him away from her son.
If you come near me, you will hear the echo of my agony.
You’re the blood that flows in me.
I planted you in my blood, watered you with my tears.
“Within the years of performing this work, we changed and the performance changed us, but nothing has changed. Hassan is still missing. Genocide is still happening,” says Chahrour. He adds that he feels a stronger need than ever to keep creating, using the stage as a platform to confront injustice and demand accountability. For him, the work is existential—a means of “resisting, staying alive, and occupying space.”
The final scene ends with everyone, in stillness, listening to a recording of Fatima and Hassan singing made a few days before Hassan’s disappearance. As their voices fill the room, I pray, ‘May their memory live with us in this moment in this space and in our memories.’
Told by My Mother by Ali Chahrour was presented at HAU2 on 6 and 7 June 2026.