What I had expected was what I saw at Bourj el Barajneh camp in Beirut, where I stayed during my first week.  The crowded Palestinian camp was a labyrinth of tight little alleys, the housing was stacked high (often looking quite precarious), electrical wires crisscrossed and tangled together in the air wherever you looked, and young children tried to make the best of it, attempting to play in the narrow, airless, sun-deprived passageways.  It was the picture of an underserved population.

It seemed odd at first to see flags for different World Cup soccer teams flying everywhere throughout the camp – flags from Germany, Italy, Argentina, and yes, Brazil, the crowd favourite.  Although I’m not much of a sports fan, I quickly became grateful for the World Cup as I started to meet some of the Palestinians.  As a newcomer, it was a topic of conversation that never let me down, whatever our cultural differences.  Everyone, from children to grandmothers, was engaged in it.  I soon joined the Brazil supporters.

As woman, I wasn’t free to watch soccer games in public places, enjoying the shared energy and rowdy enthusiasm of the crowds of spectators.  Instead, I saw a few games in the homes of Palestinian families, who welcomed me warmly and generously as a new friend.  During a commercial break, the adolescent son of one of my hosts turned to me and said, “In four years, it will be a Palestinian team that wins.”  He punctuated his comment with a wink, and the wink said a lot.  This bright youth knew he’d made a far-fetched statement, but it spoke of his aspirations for his people.

For a while I was baffled by the teams the Palestinians rooted for in the games.  I’d expected them to cheer for the underdogs, but instead they were clapping and shouting for the most powerful teams.  I came to wonder whether their heart-felt support for the best teams was a way of honouring their own strength and abilities, in a time when so many feel diminished and forgotten by the rest of the world.

Lying in bed one night in the camp, trying to get to sleep while a World Cup game played on, I was able to keep score by the sounds that rose up in the dark with each goal.  Shouts, honking horns, fireworks, and perhaps even some celebratory gunfire marked each triumphant moment of a team that was worlds away.  “Yes, we are here,” the Palestinians seemed to declare into the night.  “Even here, in this camp, we are one of you and with you.”

  In the past, Day of Solidarity programming coordinated by CEPAL has included lectures, events on Parliament Hill and fundraising dinners. 

We are in the early planning and “idea” stage for this year’s event and we need your help! If you have an idea for an event, performance or possible speaker, or if you would just like to help out during the event, please contact us at info@cepal.ca.

The newsletter contains information on our 2010 Summer Program, our 3 volunteers and how you can help CEPAL continue it’s work in the Palestinian Refugee camps in Lebanon.

Hussein El-Hajj tells of how getting to work is impossible because of the destruction of the roads. Those who can’t work are welcoming and accommodating refugees from South Lebanon.

We are the youth who have gone through the greatest hardships and calamities because of wars, massacres, destruction and displacement caused by the Israeli war and occupation of the south using tanks, jets and bombs, all American-made and which destroy our dreams. Palestinian youth are like all youth in this world, they are eager and willing to live in accordance with the progress and achievements of the 21st century, with all the promise they have for human interests. But, we live today in situation of worry and waiting for what tomorrow may bring on the political, economical and social fronts. Today, after 3 weeks of war, Israel has destroyed all means of transportation, bridges and roads in this country, those connections which we use to go to other places to work – me and every one else, people who work in Beirut and other areas of Lebanon. Now we are all cut off and it’s impossible to go anywhere. Because of this, we lost our income that we depended upon for survival.

But today, I compensated this and decided to gain a moral income by volunteering in the provision of services for the displaced people coming to Ain El-Helweh camp from South Lebanon. I became a member of the reception committee whose task it is to welcome displaced families and find ways to provide for their needs. In this way, we can present a different picture of the Palestinian people, showing their values and manners, especially the youth involved in this process. We can show that we are not what the propaganda and stereotypes represent us to be every time that the Palestinian refugee camps are mentioned and described as islands of unrest, tension and crime. We want to say that we are a struggling people whose only hope is to have a homeland under the sun and live in dignity, we and our children, as do all the youth in this world.

Extreme fear has haunted Lebanese citizens in general, especially the children during the war, because of how civilians were targeted – whether this was experienced personally or witnessed on the TV news stations. The images of corpses and casualties of war have occupied a large part of children’s imagination; this was expressed through paintings they drew, and through the stories they recalled about the experience of fleeing death and displacement, as well as what accompanied all of this and the dangers while moving to safer places. It was inevitable that the children would suffer severe unrest and panic as a result of the bombing of infrastructure and the deaths of civilians. In fact, two thirds of the victims have been children. This is what motivated Naba’a to initiate a series of educational activities targeting children. More than 2, 400 children – boys and girls – of different ages have participated. This includes displaced children, along with children from the neighborhoods where displaced people have been sheltered. They liked to participate and play with the displaced children. [...] Souad Owayyed, the social worker, said that ‘the children felt happy after participating in these activities. They enjoyed what they accomplished together with their peers. And the fact that they were allowed to choose the activity that best suits them contributed to lessening the feeling of constant worry associated with the war atmosphere. This helped reduce the effect of disturbance and psychological stress imposed on them by war.’

Ghina Ibrahim, 11 year old, said [about the activities], ‘wherever we go, everybody is talking about war and death. Participating in this activity makes me feel more relaxed, and it makes me feel that I’m away from war and killing.’

Such activities have made these children feel happy and have allowed them, at least for fleeting moments, to forget their fears. They have been able to enjoy participating and choosing the activity they like, bringing back some semblance of confidence to themselves.

Preparations for their departure, placements and our partnerships are in full swing. This year’s program is shaping up to be a fantastic one complete with longer placements and renewed relationships with partner organizations!

Please stay tuned for more updates on our volunteers’ progress and CEPAL’s 2010 Fundraising Campaign!

It was a very successful AGM, as the successes and improvements needed from 2009 were discussed and the plans for 2010 laid out.

More information will be posted here in the coming weeks about the upcoming Board of Directors and the 2010 Summer Program!

Summer 2009 Volunteer

In the morning when we wake up early for teaching it is one of the most peaceful times in the camp. The heat is bearable and it is quiet. From my window I can see that even the cats are still sleeping, basking in the early morning sun from the corrugated tin roofs.

Soon the camp begins to stir. The UNRWA garbage collectors are making their rounds, collecting trash from the buckets in front of each house. Wearing the bright blue uniforms and pushing their carts they are unmistakable. While they have a job I wouldn’t wish on anyone, they always offer a big smile as we pass. The coffee makers are ready early, clinking together metal cups to ensure that people are aware of their location, just in case the strong smell of Arabic coffee isn’t enough. Arabic pies, pronounced manaeesh, are being made all around the camp. Any quiet morning another recognizable sound is the machines of the manaoushe shops flattening the dough into small round circles, which will be topped with cheese and thyme, a common breakfast for the students and workers on their way out of  the camp.

Soon the women begin to leave their houses. They must walk their young children to school and do the daily grocery shopping- Palestinians always eat fresh food. After these tasks are complete the will commence their cleaning routine. Although the infrastructure and conditions in the camp are less than hygienic, the Palestinian women are meticulous in their cleaning. They use large squeegees to clean the floors, stairs and areas in front of their houses, splashing water around in their bare feet. Many still do their laundry by hand, wringing out their families’ clothes with their bare hands and hanging them from the roof or window to dry. Sometimes families have upwards of 10 children, this cannot be an easy task.

The workers are also out in full force in the morning hours. As the camp alleys are too small for cars or trucks to drive through, they must carry all of their construction materials by hand or with wheelbarrows. When building a new house they will make innumerable trips bringing cement, sand, and blocks, a job not made easy by the 40-degree heat.  Even though building new structures is actually illegal in the camps, new apartments are being built precariously on top of each other in order to keep up with the increasing population of the Palestinians.

At 2pm the children leave school and are now a force to be reckoned with in the camp. At every turn there are boys running around with toy guns, some appearing very real, initially alarming my fellow teachers and me. The young girls sit in groups where they can find enough space to congregate. But whether boy or girl, they will never fail to practice their limited English as we walk by “Hello! My name is Ahmad, Lina, Mohammad, Fatimah…. What is your name?”. Internet cafes will be full with the young adults of the camp chatting with their friends in Arabic and playing war games, until late hours of the night. If you want to get any work done it is best to go early before the sounds of shooting fill the smoky air.

Around 3:30 most Palestinians eat their large meal of the day. Just before that, delectable smells waft from each house. As we walk by, women, preparing the food just inside their homes, beckon us with “Tfafadale” to come in and eat with them, even though we have never met. Such is the generosity of the Palestinians.

At night the camp takes on a completely different feel. Every night in the summer weddings take place, you can tell from the singing, dancing, fireworks and celebratory gunshots into the air. People flock to their roofs to escape the heat and humidity, which is still hovering over the camp even though the sun set hours ago. Men, and sometimes women partake in smoking narguile, or hooka pipes as it is more commonly known in North America. In the camp the new nickname is “Hubbly Bubbly”, which very accurately represents the sound the pipe makes when someone is inhaling the flavored tobacco. At night it is also easier to hear the Call to Prayer, which occurs 5 times throughout the day. The very devout will head to the mosque each time to pray. Initially this would wake us up each night around 3:30, but after a few weeks it began to blend in with the others sounds in the camp and actually became quite soothing.

But not all of the sounds at night are that of celebration or relaxation. At night, the creatures come out. Rats scavenge through the trash bins and scurry away when a flashlight catches sight of them. And even worse, the cockroaches in the camp are large enough that you can actually hear them as they dash and dart under foot. The night is also a time when tempers flare. In a camp with over 20,000 people living in less than one square kilometer, situations escalate quickly, especially in the summer with the oppressive heat and if the power has been off for days. The voices involved in shouting matches easily travel between houses ensuring that the whole neighborhood will know about the situation in no time.

By far, my favorite sights in the camp are the large smiles, which each passerby offers to us as we cross paths. While we may not speak the same language, I know that we are welcome here, that people appreciate that we have come to live with them and tell their stories to the outside world. Most in the outside world have forgotten about them. They have now been here for 61 years, and conditions are deteriorating not getting any better. Even though they are legally termed “refugees” they must continue on with this life that they were born into, it was not a choice for them. And as such, the sounds and sights from the camp are created.

On January 21^{st, 2010, the Conservative government announced that Canada would be withdrawing its financial support from the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian Refugees (UNRWA). UNRWA has been assisting Palestinian Refugees gain access to food, education, health care and social services since 1950, when they numbered roughly 1 million. Today, the number of Palestinians in refugee camps has swelled to approximately 5 million and their circumstances have seen little change.}

As a volunteer during CEPAL’s 2009 Summer Program, I saw firsthand the impact of UNRWA’s presence in the camps. Each camp has an UNRWA school, giving hundreds of children access to education. My fellow CEPAL volunteers, Julie and Erin, worked at UNRWA schools in both Shatila and Wavel camps. The infrastructure provided by the school makes summer programs like CEPAL’s possible.

While living in Bourj el-Barajneh, UNRWA’s presence wasn’t flashing in neon lights at the main entrance to the camp. It was omnipresent, however. Blue signs outside of small offices, the schools, rubbish collectors with UNRWA vests, the occasional question from a resident, “do you work for UNRWA?” Healthcare, including hospitals, doctors and medicine, is provided for by UNRWA. Social services, including disability and emergency relief, are designed to assist individuals in becoming more self-reliant. UNRWA also runs microfinance programs and programs for women, all designed to promote positive socio-economic growth within the Palestinian community. UNRWA has provided many physical benefits to the Palestinians, but they have also provided quantifiable evidence of Palestinian population numbers, unemployment rates, health statistics and documented living conditions. All of this information colludes to form a body of knowledge that represents the Palestinian people in the global arena. Reports written, photographs taken, statistics calculated; all help to define the plight of Palestinian refugees and publicize it internationally.

UNRWA is funded exclusively by UN member nations. In 2009, only 86% of targeted funding was reached, which has resulted in a reduction in quality and quantity of services. With the Palestinian population growing, the situation will continue to worsen. Canada’s withdrawal of funding, after multiple decades, means UNRWA has just lost its 7th largest donor. The loss of these funds could have real impact on the ground in camps like Bourj, where I lived, and friends I made continue to live. The funds, reallocated to other, as yet unspecified Palestinian projects, are crucial to the delivery of important UNRWA programs. CEPAL’s primary mandate is empowerment through education; these cuts could severely inhibit UNRWA’s ability to provide access to education in the camps.

We at CEPAL encourage anyone reading this statement to write a letter to their member of parliament, asking for an explanation for the withdrawal of funding, and a breakdown of the reallocation of funds.