When laughter takes flight: Emergency Smile in Egypt

In April 2025, the Emergency Smile team travelled to Cairo, Egypt. For two intense and beautiful weeks, they visited numerous forcibly displaced communities across the city—offering moments of play, joy, and human connection.

This was no ordinary mission. Cairo is a sprawling, fast-paced city and a refuge for hundreds of thousands of people displaced from Palestine, Sudan, Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Yemen. Many live in hidden corners of the city—far from the spotlight, and even further from home.

A mission on the move

The team—Luciana from RED NOSES Germany, Razan from RED NOSES Jordan, and Jan from RED NOSES Czech Republic—landed in Cairo on April 6th. They had previously met online to decide on the theme of the mission: flying. With just one day to rehearse together in person, they threw themselves into preparing a brand-new show.

‘It gave the clowns a lens to look through,’ said Craig Russell, Head of Mission. ‘Everything became a question of: how can we make this fly?’

Each clown brought their own take on the theme, using a signature prop—whether it was a toy bird or a swirl of colourful scarves, every object became part of the magic. A large piece of flowing blue fabric became a shared sky, and by the end of the show, the entire audience—clowns and children alike—were pretending to soar through the air.

And in many ways, that’s exactly what the mission did—lifting people, even briefly, out of the heaviness of their day-to-day lives.

Each day brought a new setting: sometimes a school, sometimes a community centre, sometimes just a quiet space. The people they met varied in age and background, but they all shared one thing in common—they had been through more than most of us can imagine.

The weight of presence

Some of the most powerful moments came during visits with Palestinian children from Gaza. One session, arranged through a psychologist working with Palestinians, brought the team to a group of children—many of them seriously injured during the conflict.

‘One day, we were working with a group of Palestinian kids from Gaza. The energy was so high, and we quickly realised that it would be very difficult to implement any structured activities. So, we opened the parachute and invited them to lie on it and just breathe.’ Razan recalled.  ‘We could feel them decompress. The amount of trauma these children have experienced is unimaginable, and I am happy we could create a safe space where they could enjoy lying on a colourful parachute and just breathe.’ 

In these quieter moments, clowning becomes more than performance. It becomes presence. It becomes a way of saying: I see you. I’m here with you.

From 5 to 85: A show for everyone

One of the joys of working with UNHCR’s network of centres was the range of people the clown artists could meet—sometimes all in the same day. One morning, the team performed for young children with physical disabilities. That same afternoon, they were making 80-year-olds laugh in a neighbouring centre.

‘You’d throw a juggling ring to an older person,’ Craig said, smiling. ‘And they’d hold up their walking stick to catch it. Like—this is their tool now. Their strength.’

The clowns adapted their rhythm, their volume, even the pace of the show—always keeping the audience at the heart of it. And the reactions were universal: laughter, clapping, curiosity, wonder.

More than just a show

At nearly every visit, the clown show was followed by a Circus Smile Workshop. This was a time for the audience to become the performers—to try spinning plates, balancing feathers, or just play freely, often for the first time in a long time.

These activities also created space for interaction—between clowns and kids, between parents and children, even between strangers. It was a way of saying: you are not just a recipient of aid. You are part of something.

Working with, not for

A key ingredient in the mission’s success was the strength of its partnerships. From larger NGOs like UNHCR to local Sudanese-led initiatives and Palestinian networks, every visit was possible because of the trust and cooperation built on the ground.

‘Sometimes we’d get a Google Maps pin and a name, and that was it,’ Craig said. ‘But we were always met by someone who knew the community.’

That trust made it possible for the Emergency Smile team to work with people from so many different walks of life. 

A two-week mission with a long echo

Unlike the typical four-week format, this was a shorter mission—but no less meaningful. If anything, the limited time made each day more focused, more intentional.

And despite the schedule, despite the emotional weight of some of the visits—the team carried themselves with the lightness and humour that defines Emergency Smile.

Because this work is not just about distraction. It’s about dignity. It’s about letting people laugh without asking why. It’s about reminding children—and adults—that joy is still possible, even after everything.

And sometimes, all it takes is a red nose, a flying scarf, and someone to play with.