Lebanon | 18-06-04

'This isn’t life… this is existence.'

Shaista Aziz reports from the Palestinian refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila in Lebanon.

Driving through the Palestinian refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the sprawling camps. The slum

Scenes of devastation at Shatila refugee camp, Lebanon. photo: Shaista Aziz

housing stretched as far as the eye could see, houses stacked upon rubble and squeezed in tightly together. Everywhere I looked I could see people, young, old, men, women and children out in the centre of Sabra buying food in the busy market area. My guide Reema negotiated her way through the narrow roads and streets competing for space with the motorbikes, cars, market stalls and people.

Tempers flared, car horns blaring, and drivers pointing their fingers at one another through car windows. Some good natured pedestrians weaved in an out of the blocked traffic acting like traffic police helping the motorists negotiate their way through the many different forms of transport in the queue ahead. Despite the depressing reality of these people’s lives and the bleak surroundings, I found the refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila to be vibrant places throbbing with life on a bustling Saturday afternoon.

Sabra and Shatila have taken on a mythical status alongside Deir Yassin and Jenin in the long and violent history of the ongoing Palestinian struggle for a homeland. On 15 September 1982, an estimated 3,500 Palestinian civilians were massacred inside the camps when the then Israeli Defence Minister Ariel Sharon ordered Phalangist militia and Israeli soldiers to invade the camps to root out ‘terrorists’.

The massacre is etched upon the memory of the Palestinian people, seen as one of a long list of symbols of Sharon’s continuous attempts to ethnically cleanse the Palestinian population. The events have also had a profound impact upon the Lebanese population. 'I remember the day vividly - flares were used to light up the sky so Sharon could send in the soldiers to attack the people in the camp. It was awful, a dark day and even now when I think about what happened I feel sick,' says Mohammed, a musician born in Lebanon.

I know that the Lebanese Government sees Palestinians as lice,
so we are forced to live like this on top of one another.

Third- and fourth-generation Palestinian refugees born and raised in the camps of Lebanon are still holding on to the dream of returning to a Palestinian homeland. Many have kept safe the keys to their homes in the villages and cities that they were banished from in 1948 when the state of Israel was created. However, the likelihood of these refugees ever returning to their homes seems more remote than ever following George Bush’s recent announcement that the UN-sanctioned right to return no longer exists 'due to realities on the ground'.

Camp life
An estimated 500,000 Palestinian refugees live in 12 refugee camps across Lebanon. The United Nations Relief Works Agency (UNRWA) estimates that a further 15-20,000 (non-registered) refugees are living in unofficial camps. The Lebanese Government views the refugees as being ‘a security threat’ and has done everything it can to ensure that they are not integrated into mainstream Lebanese society. The refugees have no civil rights, are prohibited from working in 72 professions and are by and large sealed into the ghetto that is camp life.

One of the poorest and largest refugee camps in Lebanon is Ain el-Helweh. Conditions are miserable, poor hygiene and the lack of basic amenities is having a devastating impact on the health of the refugees. Water shortages are the norm, and often the water that is available is contaminated with raw sewage. Housing and shelter is usually in very poor condition, damp and open to the elements of harsh sunlight and heavy rain. The refugees are banned by the state from carrying out any repairs to their homes and are prohibited from taking building materials into the camps.

Wafic Hawari is a journalist who works with a Palestinian NGO focusing on the needs of the refugees in Lebanon. Hawari says that children and women in particular are suffering from living in the overcrowded camps. 'The kids have nothing to do, the schools are only open for three to four hours a day and there are usually around 55 children in every classroom, so the level of education that these youngsters receive is usually less than adequate.' For those children who are fortunate enough to receive a primary education, the majority find that their schooling comes to an end when they reach secondary level. There are only five schools and one technical college to provide further education across the 12 refugee camps in Lebanon.

Palestinian children of Shatila refugee camp, Lebanon. photo: Shaista Aziz

Impact on women
Part of Hawari’s work involves him running a special focus group targeting the needs of refugee women, who are particularly vulnerable to violence and abuse inside the camps. 'I’m seeing an increase in the number of women who are suffering domestic violence at the hands of their husbands and sons. Because many of the men are unemployed and find it difficult to find work they take out their frustration on their wives and mothers.' Hawari and his colleagues do outreach work in the form of workshops where men and women can discuss the impact of domestic violence upon their lives. 'We are trying to make the men realize that it’s not right to attack a woman, and domestic violence will have a negative impact on all members of the family. It’s important for men to know that domestic violence is as much their problem as the women that they attack.' Another difficult and sensitive issue that the team focuses on is the increasing number of women who are being forced into prostitution to feed their families.

'One woman told me that she had no choice but to leave the camp and prostitute herself, she said that she wanted to protect her daughter from having to sell herself to help feed the family. I’m hearing about more women being forced to do this. We are trying to help them as much as we can,' says Hawari.

Twenty-two-year-old Safiya emails me when I return to Britain to tell me about her life as a third-generation Palestinian refugee living in Lebanon. 'When I think about my life and the life of my family inside this camp I feel angry and sometimes I burn with anger inside. I know that the Lebanese Government sees Palestinians as lice, so we are forced to live like this on top of one another. Things are very hard for us, but we are now used to living like this and I know deep in my heart that we will continue to live like this for a long time. But one day, Insh’Allah (God willing), we will be able to return to our homes and our lives, for at the moment this isn’t life, this is existence.'

See also: NI Issue 350 Refugees: The case for open borders
and these recent articles:

Refugees' credit group success, Lebanon (#345-2002 May p3)
Basic obstacle to Middle East peace (#343-2002 Mar p3)
Plight of Afghan refugees in Australia (#343-2002 Mar p8)
No refuge likely for Afghani refugees (#340-2001 Nov p16)
Palestinian's passionate study of lost village (#336-2001 Jul p3)
Photos by Bhutanese refugees in Nepal (#334-2001 May p7)
Asylum seekers abused in Australian camp (#332-2001 Mar p6)
Migrant in the mirror: our own past made flesh (#327-2000 Sep p34)
New signs of popular democracy in South (#324-2000 Jun p20)
Secrets of Aceh's hidden war, Indonesia (#318-1999 Nov p14)
Albania's Kosovar refugee crisis (#317-1999 Oct p31)

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