"Messi, Messi, Messi," the scream erupted from Suhail* who jumped up in joy. Asif and Ahmed also leapt up, clapping. Lionel Messi had just done that thing only he can do: mesmerize an audience that already thought they had seen the best of him.

This sounds like a simple thing to happen anywhere on earth. But Suhail, Asif and Ahmed are Gazans who work with foreign medical delegations at one of Gaza's largest hospitals. 

One of them spent a year and a half in an Israeli jail and suffered horrific abuse. All of them have lost someone, been displaced, yet continue to work with smiles on their faces. And during the World Cup, they watch football too.

As Messi was tearing up the Austrians, one of them enthusiastically asked a European doctor whether she liked Messi.

The doctor replied stoically: "Isn't Messi a Zionist? Should we not boycott him?"

The same men cheering for Messi immediately cheered for her and said: "You are a great doctor, Stefania!"

Palestinians, by and large, acknowledge that Argentina has taken a pro-Israeli stance during the genocide. Yet many cannot stop admiring the footballing skill of the little man from Rosario. Any sports fan will understand this paradox, which often arises with players who maintain good relations with wrongdoers. 

Comparisons are inevitably made to Diego Maradona, who was a vocal supporter of the Palestinian cause even when it was far from fashionable. Messi, by contrast, as well as his archrival Cristiano Ronaldo, have remained conspicuously silent. 

Both have also visited and spoken warmly about President Trump, something Palestinians do not easily forget, viewing him as an enabler of the genocide.

The World Cup has created a unique paradox in Gaza. On one hand, it features the strongest Arab representation in the tournament's history. Morocco, Algeria, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Jordan are followed passionately. 

On the other hand, Gaza is enduring a genocide and suffered famine last year. Even after a ceasefire was announced eight months ago, more than 1,000 people have died.

To cap it all off, the games are being held in the United States, the country many Gazans hold most responsible for their plight.

"We have lost all interest in this trophy due to our circumstances," said Abed al-Hassan, a junior doctor. His family came from the north and had been displaced multiple times. He went from living in a mansion three years ago to living in a tent.

More than 70% of Gaza's homes have been destroyed. That adds another layer of complexity: tents do not have electricity, and few people managed to take their televisions when they were displaced. 

Mobile data is patchy at best, and Wi-Fi is unavailable in many areas. Watching the games is logistically difficult, especially as most are played at night.

"Yes, things are bad and I do not like FIFA, but the World Cup is the World Cup. I will definitely watch it," quipped Dr. Sahl as he caught up on games from the previous night on YouTube. Having worked through the worst of the war, he says football remains one of the few ways to stay sane — a form of escapism.

Some shops in the tent camps have begun hosting watch parties. Because internet access is limited, some cafes and restaurants that survived the bombardment have opened their doors to people looking to work or study using Wi-Fi for a small fee. 

With fewer customers able to afford eating out, many business owners see it as a survival strategy. Some have chosen to stay open late and broadcast football. Crowds do come, but they rarely fill the venues.

Doctors and nurses watch games whenever they find a spare moment. But everyone agrees the enthusiasm is far lower than in previous years.

"None of the previous wars were a genocide. We didn't suffer famine before, and this level of displacement has never happened on this scale," one doctor told me as we discussed football.

Everyone here knows how to hide their pain. Moments before delivering that harrowing observation, the doctor had been talking about how good Morocco looked. A moment later, he shifted the conversation again and said Algeria would do well too.

"They were unfortunate to face Messi at his best."

War, genocide, famine and repeated displacement have pushed many people who once lived and breathed football toward apathy. Yet pockets of Gazans still find solace in the beautiful game, even in the darkest of times.

—

Raiiq Ridwan is an UK-based doctor and traveller