By Abed El Rahman Zaaroura

I will start my story by a word which means everything to me: Palestine.
Palestine lives inside me even though I do not live in Palestine the land. I live in Shatila, you know that small camp in Lebanon for continue reading...

I Wish I Died
By Muhammad Meri

As I watch the news of the Intifada on TV channels, I feel happy and sad. I feel happy to see my fellows in Palestine fighting for their rights for our rights only by stones. But at the same time I feel continue reading...

Between the Intifada and Asia Cup
By Ismail Zaaroura

It happened that the first days of the Israeli air raids on the West Bank and Gaza fell with the opening of Asia Cup in Beirut. Shatila, my camp, was living a state of war. Everybody, young children old, were following news moment by continue reading...

Intifada Diaries
By Mona Zaaroura

Politics did not interest me before and news meant nothing to me. However, since the beginning of the intifada I became addicted to news. As soon as I wake up I ran to the TV and start to move among the channels to watch the news. At seven NBN news, at 7:30 Future continue reading...

Intifada My Salvation
By Ussama Abou El Sheikh

The second intifada started three weeks after my school had started. I was then going to school without books. My mum had paid the money for my younger siblings since she thought that mine was paid from last year. My money was lost between the continue reading...

Shatila Massacre: Only One of Many
By Mona Zaaroura

When Sabra and Shatila massacre was committed I was not yet born. I got to know it through my questions about the reasons of the miserable life we lead in the camp, in Shatila. I am fourteen year old girl now, I, like all children in Shatila, never continue reading...

What Else and Till When?
By Mona Zaaroura

Israelis have stolen our lands on which our dreams are planted. They have destroyed our hopes built there. And the world is watching waiting the end of the movie. Israelis have deprived us from our childhood, they have stolen our smiles, and they have buried us alive. They have jailed our freedom before we were even born. The world is continue reading...

Right of Children: I Want to Play Not Work
By Muhammad Daood and Mona Zaaroura

What can I tell you? Where do I start? I’ll tell you the story of my life, which is the story of working children in Shatila. My name is Muhammad Daood and I’m 14 years old. I’m in eighth grade and I’m 145 centimeters tall, which means continue reading...

I’m a Child but I Was Engaged
By Rana Kassem with Rana Al Hassan and Suzanne Abd El Hadi

I’m a girl who, like most girls in Shatila , became engaged while I was still a child. Last winter I was thirteen year old and I didn’t used to think of the tragedies of the miserable life we lead in the camp. My main concerns were Dabkeh dancing and playing with my friends. One day I went on a trip with Bayt Atfal Assoumoud and I caught continue reading...

A Place Without Identity, an Identity Without a Place
By Ussama Al Sheikh and Mariam Azzouka

Who are we? Where do we belong?
On the refugee camp, the director of the Surete Generale certifies that we are Palestinians residing in Lebanon- in other words, that we are Palestinian refugees. We know continue reading...

The Shatila Stable—I Mean, School
By Ahmad Abu Shlleyh and Walid Balkis

In our crowded camp there is only one school, Jericho school. If you only knew what school was like! The number of students per class varies between 45 and 50 sometimes even reach 55. In each class there are 5 desks, half of which are not fit for use. We sit three or four to a desk, and our continue reading...

In the Camps We Die of Minor Illnesses
By Wissam al-Ahmad and Mirvat Issa

Two years ago my brother got asthma, which affects most people in the camps because of the unhygienic conditions and the very humid houses, as well as the stench of garbage and sewage. In most places asthma is not a serious disease and it is curable if continue reading...

Our Games Can’t Take Up Space
By Samar Shaaban, Ismail Zaaroura and Khodr Attiyeh

Sukkar, Mukkar la la la
Let’s eat drink la la la
I put my hand on the stove
I saw my dad and the minister
Going hunting for birds
Damn you Mr. Minister
How you love birds
Sukkar Mukkar la la la

We repeat this game dozens of times a day along with the “cow game” and the “fast grain” and the “couch.” These are games we continue reading...

Why Did Our Parents Die?
By Shadia Abdallah, Muhammad Merhi, and Ola Ghannam

“ My parents died in the massacre of Sabra and Shatila.”
“ My father died in prison after being tortured.”
“ My father died of asthma because of the camp conditions at home and the unhygienic conditions in the camp.”
My father died during the war of the camp.”
Or parents didn’t die a natural death. They were continue reading...

Don’t I have The Right to Dream?
By The Whole Group

I dream of a family that could care for me and give me affection, and a house outside the camp, with a green yard, in a place without alleyways. And I dream of finishing my schooling if I should want to, and of choosing what I want to be, even if it is a garbage collector continue reading...

Our Visitors
By The Whole Group

They come … They go  
If they will be back  
We don’t know  
They brought us books  
In which to read  
The reason why  
Is the brain to feed?  
We don’t have continue reading...

Palestine as imagined by Shatila Children

1. Palestine, the land:
Very, very beautiful.
Very green
Covered by flowers and trees.
It is full with fresh water.
There are so many yards and playgrounds.
No alleys
No garbage
Streets are clean continue reading...

Where To This Time?
By Samar Sha’aban

I am sick and tired of moving. The fear of getting attached to friends clutches
at my heart… I am so terrified continue reading...

We’ll Return One Day
By Iktimal Sha’aban

"One day we’ll return to Palestine because our house is still awaiting us…It is still awaiting its folks to return to the land and take care of it. "We’ll return because our big house is still there. I can still see it. The olive tree is still planted in the good land and is watered by nostalgia…There is continue reading...

When Would I Become a Bird?
By Mona Zaaroura

When I was young, I used to imagine that I was a small bird flying from one place to the other and landing wherever I liked. I used to stand in front of the mirror and sing like a bird would do. I used to cut wings from paper, draw on my face to look like a bird, and stand on continue reading...

I Want to Return to Palestine
By Wissam Ahmad

Everyday, the newspaper carries the scenario of our destiny (future) as Palestinians in Lebanon. The first scenario holds that the Palestinians in Lebanon would leave to Iraq which will need cheap labor after lifting the embargo imposed on it. The second scenario holds that the Palestinians in Lebanon would be continue reading...

The Tale of Our Return
By Ismail Zaaroura

The tale began with my grandfather who, upon being evicted from Palestine, found refuge in Lebanon in 1948. My grandfather did not want to stay there. He lived in a tent believing that he would return to Palestine in a day or two. That is why he locked his continue reading...

No Land, No Honor
By Farah Obeid

"Who doesn’t have a land, does not have an honor," that was what the elderly in the camp always used to say, but I never  comprehended its meaning. I only comprehended when I joined a Lebanese school. When I reached the Elementary level at school, my father put me in a Lebanese school thinking that the educational standard at  UNRWA schools continue reading...

A Camp Child Dream
By Usama Abou El Sheikh

From my early childhood, I used to contemplate in things that maybe realistic for a child who lives in his homeland, but imaginary for a refugee child, a child without a land. All what I dreamt about was an alley wider than ours, a garbage can in that alley in which we could throw our garbage so that our camp would continue reading...