Mohammed Nayef Salem tells Maira Butt how an unlikely vocation came to be a lifeline for hundreds of children. I have a very unusual life. I’m an 18-year-old circus clown, a children’s entertainer decked out in exaggerated makeup and silly outfits. The point of my performance is to make kids laugh by looking and acting really silly.
![[‘It’s difficult being here but I’ve found my purpose in life through this work’]](https://static.independent.co.uk/2024/12/30/16/newFile-1.jpg)
I started very young; I was 12 years old when my uncle introduced me to the world of circus arts and entertainment. He was a trainer. It was his job to teach people how to do tricks and how to be funny. He’s since moved abroad to Germany to continue developing his skills, but he picked my performing name, Uncle Tito, which the kids love.
![[Mohammed Nayef Salem is 18 and has been training since he was 12]](https://static.independent.co.uk/2024/12/30/16/newFile-4.jpg)
For the six years I’ve been training, I never could have imagined that the work would be so important – and that it would become a lifeline for hundreds of children through unimaginable horrors. I was born in Gaza, Palestine, and my training was with the Gaza Circus School. Right now, I live in northern Gaza, and almost all of it has been destroyed by Israeli bombing. Life is very difficult here.
That’s what makes my work so strange at this time. I’m one of the few people who still has something to do other than survive. I have to keep people happy while the war continues. I do my best because I don’t know if I will see the children again.
My daily routine consists of waking up like usual – it’s very difficult to get food and water – and then getting myself ready to travel with my group to various centres in the north. I wear bright red overalls with huge coloured spots on them, a black top hat with colourful flowers and, of course, the white face paint and bright red nose. Sometimes I wear red and white pinstripes, or other colours like my bright blue, yellow, and green jacket.
