Young Palestinians in Lebanon Dream of a Future Abroad

In this picture taken on April 19, 2023, Nirmeen Hazineh, a young Palestinian refugee in Lebanon, poses atop a rooftop at the Shatila camp for Palestinian refugees in the southern suburbs of Beirut. (Photo by ANWAR AMRO / AFP)
In this picture taken on April 19, 2023, Nirmeen Hazineh, a young Palestinian refugee in Lebanon, poses atop a rooftop at the Shatila camp for Palestinian refugees in the southern suburbs of Beirut. (Photo by ANWAR AMRO / AFP)
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Young Palestinians in Lebanon Dream of a Future Abroad

In this picture taken on April 19, 2023, Nirmeen Hazineh, a young Palestinian refugee in Lebanon, poses atop a rooftop at the Shatila camp for Palestinian refugees in the southern suburbs of Beirut. (Photo by ANWAR AMRO / AFP)
In this picture taken on April 19, 2023, Nirmeen Hazineh, a young Palestinian refugee in Lebanon, poses atop a rooftop at the Shatila camp for Palestinian refugees in the southern suburbs of Beirut. (Photo by ANWAR AMRO / AFP)

In Lebanon's impoverished Palestinian refugee camps, young people say they dream of leaving a struggling country where their families took refuge generations ago and where their futures remain bleak.

Nirmeen Hazineh is a descendant of survivors of what Palestinians call the Nakba -- the "catastrophe" -- when more than 760,000 Palestinians fled or were forced from their homes by the 1948 war over Israel's creation.

She proudly considers herself from Jaffa -- now south of Tel Aviv -- and talks as if she has lived there all her life, instead of in the ramshackle Shatila refugee camp south of Beirut.

"Emigration has become the main solution for young people," said Hazineh, 25.

"Whoever you speak to, they'll tell you 'I want to leave', whether legally or illegally, it doesn't matter," she told AFP.

Lebanon has been grappling with a devastating economic crisis since late 2019.

Most of the population is now in poverty, according to the United Nations, and many Lebanese have quit the country for better prospects abroad.

Hazineh is a sociology graduate but is not allowed to practice in her field, as Lebanon bars Palestinians from working in 39 professions, including as doctors, lawyers and engineers.

Instead she helps to raise awareness of the dangers of drugs, which add to the daily misery of Shatila.

"There is a kind of despair among young people in the camp," said Hazineh, who despite the difficulties maintains a radiant smile.

She said she wanted to live "in a country that respects me, that gives me a chance, a job".

Tiny Lebanon hosts an estimated 250,000 Palestinian refugees, according to UNRWA, the UN agency for Palestinian refugees, while almost double that number are registered for the organization's services.

Most Palestinians, including more than 30,000 who fled the war in neighboring Syria after 2011, live in one of Lebanon's 12 official camps, now bustling but impoverished urban districts.

Shatila is a warren of tumbledown homes where tangled electricity cables criss-cross tight alleyways.

Walid Othman, 33, says he spends his spare time in political activism with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, which is banned in Israel.

Othman said he would have liked to study political science and dedicate his life to "defending the Palestinian cause on an international level".

But he had to stop his studies because of "the difficult economic situation" and instead became a blacksmith.

In Lebanon, Palestinians' "denied right to own property... further complicates employment and income generation activities", said Dorothee Klaus, director of UNRWA affairs for Lebanon.

Lebanon says restrictions on Palestinians are justified by their right to return to their country.

In neighboring Syria, some 400,000 Palestinians are registered with UNRWA, where they have access to the job market.

In Jordan, more than half of the around 10 million population is of Palestinian origin, while some 2.3 million Palestinians are registered with UNRWA but have the same rights as Jordanians.

"With no prospect of meaningful future", Palestinian refugees in Lebanon have "attempted to migrate whenever possible", Klaus said.

But their travel documents "may not be recognized", and they may be "required to file visas related to stateless persons", she added.

Mohammad Abdel Hafiz lamented that Palestinians in Lebanon "don't even enjoy the most basic rights".

"Everybody is born in a country, while we are born where our heart is," said the 29-year-old, who volunteers for the Palestinian civil defense in Shatila.

As he zips through its alleys on his moped, he dreams of leaving, but his chances of getting a visa to a Western country are slim.

And he is haunted by the memory of three young camp residents who drowned when a boat carrying would-be migrants sank off the Lebanese coast last year.

"They died because they wanted to have a future," Abdel Hafiz said.

"Here, our aim is just to survive."



Palestinians in Syria Flock to Cemetery Off-Limits under Assad

People pray by the grave of a relative in a damaged cemetery at the Yarmuk camp for Palestinian refugees in the south of Damascus on December 14, 2024. (AFP)
People pray by the grave of a relative in a damaged cemetery at the Yarmuk camp for Palestinian refugees in the south of Damascus on December 14, 2024. (AFP)
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Palestinians in Syria Flock to Cemetery Off-Limits under Assad

People pray by the grave of a relative in a damaged cemetery at the Yarmuk camp for Palestinian refugees in the south of Damascus on December 14, 2024. (AFP)
People pray by the grave of a relative in a damaged cemetery at the Yarmuk camp for Palestinian refugees in the south of Damascus on December 14, 2024. (AFP)

In a war-ravaged Palestinian refugee camp in Syria, Radwan Adwan was stacking stones to rebuild his father's grave, finally able to return to Yarmuk cemetery after Bashar al-Assad's fall.

"Without the fall of the regime, it would have been impossible to see my father's grave again," said 45-year-old Adwan.

"When we arrived, there was no trace of the grave."

It was his first visit there since 2018, when access to the cemetery south of Damascus was officially banned.

Assad's fall on December 8, after a lightning offensive led by opposition factions, put an end to decades of iron-fisted rule and years of bloody civil war that began with repression of peaceful anti-government protests in 2011.

Yarmuk camp fell to the opposition early in the war before becoming an extremist stronghold. It was bombed and besieged by Assad's forces, emptied of most of its residents and reduced to ruins before its recapture in 2018.

Assad's ouster has allowed former residents to return for the first time in years.

Back at the cemetery, Adwan's mother Zeina sat on a small metal chair in front of her husband's gravesite.

She was "finally" able to weep for him, she said. "Before, my tears were dry."

"It's the first time that I have returned to his grave for years. Everything has changed, but I still recognize where his grave is," said the 70-year-old woman.

Yarmuk camp, established in the 1950s to house Palestinians who fled or were expelled from their land after Israel's creation, had become a key residential and commercial district over the decades.

Some 160,000 Palestinians lived there alongside thousands of Syrians before the country's conflict erupted in 2011.

Thousands fled in 2012, and few have found their homes still standing in the eerie wasteland that used to be Yarmuk.

Along the road to the cemetery, barefoot children dressed in threadbare clothes play with what is left of a swing set in a rubble-strewn area that was once a park.

- 'Spared no one' -

A steady stream of people headed to the cemetery, looking for their loved ones' gravesites after years.

"Somewhere here is my father's grave, my uncle's, and another uncle's," said Mahmud Badwan, 60, gesturing to massive piles of grey rubble that bear little signs of what may lie beneath them.

Most tombstones are broken.

Near them lay breeze blocks from adjacent homes which stand empty and open to the elements.

"The Assad regime spared neither the living nor the dead. Look at how the ruins have covered the cemetery. They spared no one," Badwan said.

There is speculation that the cemetery may also hold the remains of famed Israeli spy Eli Cohen and an Israeli solider.

Cohen was tried and hanged for espionage by the Syrians in 1965 after he infiltrated the top levels of the government.

Camp resident Amina Mounawar leaned against the wall of her ruined home, watching the flow of people arriving at the cemetery.

Some wandered the site, comparing locations to photos on their phones taken before the war in an attempt to locate graves in the transformed site.

"I have a lot of hope for the reconstruction of the camp, for a better future," said Mounawar, 48, as she offered water to those arriving at the cemetery.