Bisam Astiti takes her role very seriously -- the theatre is one of the few places where the 13-year-old living in the stranglehold of Israeli occupation can feel free.
"Acting helps me be stronger and to free myself from worries," says the doe-eyed Palestinian teenager, her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail.
"Before, I had elocution problems, I spoke too fast. But now I've learned to listen and be more patient," she says in between rehearsing her lines for an upcoming production of "The Pied Piper of Hamelin".
Bisam is among some 200 Palestinian youths who manage to escape the stifling atmosphere of their home in the northern West Bank town of Jenin by taking part in a project called The Freedom Theatre.
In addition to an actual theatre that puts on productions for the locals, the project also includes access to computers, books, CDs and DVDs.
"The children love it," says Nabil al-Rai, a 32-year-old actor and director of the theatre that stands at the end of a tiny alley amid the dusty, poverty-plagued streets of the Jenin refugee camp.
"Here, they can feel free."
Feeling free when you live in Jenin is no small feat.
The town of 39,000 lies nestled in the hills of breathtaking beauty that belie the ever-tightening grip of the 42-year Israeli occupation.
Drive just five kilometres (three miles) to the north and you run into an Israeli army checkpoint that prevents West Bankers without special permits from entering Israel. The permits are nearly impossible to get.
Go 10 kilometres west and the way is blocked by Israel's security barrier as it reaches deep inside Palestinian territory walling off a Jewish settlement.
Wander 13 kilometres to the east and the barrier cuts off any access to the flower-dotted hills with majestic views on the Jordan Valley.
The sandy beaches of the Mediterranean are an hour's drive away, but they may as well be on the moon as far as the children of Jenin are concerned.
In the wake of the deadly second Palestinian uprising in 2000, the Jewish state virtually sealed its borders curtailing the movement of West Bank Palestinians.
The West Bank shores of the Dead Sea are also out of reach -- the beaches may be on Palestinian land, but special permits from the Israeli authorities are required to get to the salty waters.
"The children here cannot go to the sea, even to the Dead Sea... They are in a big prison," al-Rai says.
But on the stage, there are no permits and no restrictions.
"The whole idea is to have freedom through threatre," says al-Rai. "To think about culture, about how to fight, to keep up resistance and keep the Palestinian identity."
"The most important thing is to give them imagination, to give them a voice... to preserve a cultural identity that the Palestinians are in the process of losing because of the occupation."
Plays are put on every few months to packed audiences.
The last production -- George Orwell's "Animal Farm" -- ran for several weeks and was seen by thousands of people from Jenin and surrounding villages.
The theatre was established by an Israeli woman, Arna Mer-Khamis during the first Palestinian intifada in 1987 and known as "Stone Theatre."
A committed peace activist Mer-Khamis, who has since died, wanted to create a space where the children of Jenin could escape the violence of the occupation.
In 2002, when Israel launched a massive military operation to root out gunmen from Jenin's refugee camp -- then a major militant stronghold -- the theatre was destroyed.
It was rebuilt by Mer-Khamis's actor son Juliano in 2004, with the help of Zakaria Zubeidi, one of the most powerful militants in Jenin who himself is an alumni of the project.
"Through the stage we want to show the world that we are a people under occupation and that we want to free ourselves from occupation and also show the Palestinian culture and folklore," says Zubeidi.
"Children are the first victims of the conflict," says Michaela, a young Portuguese woman who teaches mime at the theatre. "They are faced with psychological violence every day."
At the theatre workshops and rehearsals, this often translates into anxiety, nervousness or agitation, but also problems in concentration.
"They don't listen when they first come here. They yell, they can't concentrate, they get tired very easily. We try to teach them the freedom of thinking for themselves.
"We try to do something constructive here, a place where people are slowly dying," she says.
In addition to the freedom on stage, the theatre offers youths another prize much sought after in the hopeless atmosphere of the West Bank -- the ability to travel abroad, with a troupe putting on the Pied Piper production in several French cities this month.
But the theatre is not without domestic critics, including those who resort to violence. A week ago, someone tried to set fire to the building, with the blaze damaging the front door.
"These attacks and threats against the theatre come from small reactionary groups in the camp displaying narrow, racist interests, and who consider theatre, cinema and music as destructive factors in the Palestinian struggle for liberation," the theatre later said in a statement.
Supporters of the project hope that the attack was an isolated incident.
"This is the only place where they can feel free," Michaela says of the young Palestinian actors.
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