When a refugee camp has been functioning for 65 years, it sheds its temporary appearance and dons a more long-term garb. And that is what makes the fate of the refugee camps in the Palestinian Territories a central point of contention to the Israel-Palestine conflict.

In Nablus, the Balata Refugee camp could be easily mistaken for a congested poverty-stricken neighbourhood. The transition between suburban Nablus and the camp is seamless and a non-local could walk around or cross the camp without once realising that one has passed by the largest refugee camp in the West Bank. When we got off at Jacob’s Well (our first stop), we looked around hoping to find signs to Balata Camp as that was our next stop. A local then pointed to a cluster of buildings across the road, “That’s Balata Camp.” I have never been to a refugee camp earlier, but I surely did not expect it to be integrated into the suburbs of a city with such proximity to a site of Biblical importance.

A refugee at the Balata Camp

Many of the Balata Camp refugees are from Jaffa, a neighbourhood to the south of Tel Aviv. The passing of time has not diluted the desire of the refugees to the villages from where their ancestors either fled or were expelled. In fact, the right of return to their original town or village is at the core of the conflict here. Families still hold keys to their homes which are now either destroyed or are being used by other families, as a reminder of their lost homes. Some families get the chance to visit their villages. These pilgrimages come by rarely because refugees need permits to enter Israel and also because many refugees are too poor to take up such a journey. When families do get the chance, stories of the pilgrimages become the only window for many to their lost lost ancestral villages. “One family found their house in Jaffa and even paid a visit to the Jewish family living there. My family on the other hand could not even recognise our neighbourhood in Haifa. We still hold the keys but our house has been destroyed,” A narrates.

These symbols are what keep the hope of return alive in them. Although first or second generation refugees still cling on to symbols of home and harbour the hope of return, children who have been brought up in the refugee camp have a kind of an identity crisis. While they mostly identify with Balata, their fondness for their village is no less. “We may be brought up in Balata or Nablus, but we should never forget the village to which we belong. Our ancestors tell us about their life back in their village just so we remember…” says A.

Refugees in the Balata Camp are in their fifth generation. According to the UNRWA “The descendants of Palestine refugee males, including legally adopted children, are also eligible for registration.” This is a special status given to Palestine Refugees. This move of the UNRWA is well-contended and that is a debate currently beyond my scope. That said, there is no denying the humanitarian crisis of Balata’s 28,000 refugees and more than 7.5 lakh registered UNRWA refugees.

 
According to UN data, in 2008 there were more than 1,700 houses with one or more upper floors housing the 23,000-odd refugees. One can only imagine what the living conditions of the refugees must be like. As families grow, more floors are added to the building to accommodate the family. This translates into claustrophobic alleyways which receive very less sunlight even during the day. “The homes at the lower levels receive very little sunlight and ventilation is a problem too,” states A. As I walk through these narrow lanes with my backpack grazing against the walls, I am flooded with questions. How does one bring furniture in? How do the handicapped access their homes? What if some one needs to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance? We carry the people, A says very matter of fact-ly. The Balata Camp is a self-sufficient ecosystem replete with a comprehensive market streets that cuts through the camp offering some breathing space to the cramped layout.

Children across Nablus and Balata greet foreigners with “Hi! How do you?” It is as if they are testing you. When responded to, they are confident in replying, “I am good, thank you.” Many even want their photos to be clicked and have a friendly disposition. One little guy with a sense of humour came up to us and said: My name is Hassan in Arabic and Hassan in English. A camera in hand, and a smile on your lips invites curious interactions with children here. Four UN schools cater to the children of Balata Camp. There are many who don’t make it to school, and there begins the problem.

 
Balata Camp is a microcosm of the general problems refugees face here. High unemployment rates with a high youth population make the right brew for violent outbreaks. In 2007, 40.1 percent of Balata Camp’s population was under 14 years of age. Families mostly turn children into bread-winners to fight poverty. Adults find it difficult to find jobs as the Israeli market is not accessible to them. Balata is a breeding ground for anti-social and violent youth who take up arms to make their voices heard. Posters of civilian fighters brandishing weapons are more frequent here than in the Old City of Nablus. Are they justified in their violence? Who must compromise more? Is a solution in sight? As a mere visitor I cannot comprehend what kind of a solution could be drawn up to put an end to the kind of human suffering I witnessed here. A step towards that is this little post. I urge you to read more, because I have just scraped the tip of the iceberg here. There is much to learn and much to do.

For more on Nablus from my first visit go here.