Last Thought, from Nahr el Bared, pictured above
End of November 2010
Back from Nahr el Bared Palestinian Refugee camp and already contemplating about my
visit. I was able to get a visa at Beirut airport to enter Lebanon with almost
no question asked. However to enter the camp, the visa on my passport was not
enough and I had to have a special permit.
The fact that I was born in the camp, have two parents there (one
disabled), a brother and many relatives was not enough for the army
check point to allow me entry into the camp.
But that is half of the story.
For this military permit allows one to the perimeter of the camp or the new
camp, but not the camp proper. The original camp was obliterated in 2007.
All the camps’ residents who took refuge and live with
family members, in small rentals, or makeshift car garages cannot enter the
camp without the permit either. Their local identification card is not enough
to allow them back to their homes.
I was happy to see construction activities, albeit with a
turtle speed to rebuild the destroyed homes. I thought of the chilling high
unemployment level and if camp residents will be able to find a job and take
part in the rebuilding efforts of their homes.
But to find out it was not that easy. Anyone who wishes to work with the
construction companies must first secure another military permit, for the original
camp is fenced with barbed wires and entry is controlled but for three gates
with military guards. No one is allowed in the camp proper without a second
special permit.
I talked to several of the unemployed who were still waiting
to receive this special permit before they can join the construction companies.
I asked how long it takes to get this permit, no one knows: the sole decision
to issue or not, is the military’s only.
I was told, it could be a month or several months. Can’t you check on
the status, I inquired? Only if you didn’t want to ever receive the permit, was
the answer.
In the morning of my last day in the camp and while I was
standing by the sea, an old acquaintance riding a cheap motorbike stopped by to
say hi, we talked for about one hour. He told me of his destroyed fishing boat
and how he was not able to work as a fisherman anymore because he was not able
to receive a work permit. He pointed to the military guarding the entrance of
the small fishing port: the military checks your identification and if you
cannot show a work permit, you cannot leave the port. He told me of waiting for
the work permit for about a year before giving up. He had a total career change
to help pay for his children at local school and college.
And it was amazing how this friend kept telling me how he
was fortunate for not suffering as much as the others did. Yet, he told me of the time when walking the
streets all night because the garage he was using was locked up and he ended up
sleeping the morning hours at a local mosque.
Today, he like all the dispossessed, walks tall hoping for a
better day tomorrow. I just wonder if tomorrow will ever come!
|