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'We want to
live side by side with the Jews'
By GRACE HOUSHOLDER
A continuous, bleeding wound.
That is what the director of the Dheisheh Camp on the West Bank
calls life in his Palestinian refugee camp.
We visited the camp on Nov. 16. After A/Qader Shahin Hussein
spent about half an hour with our group in his office, he invited
all 21 of us to his home, about a five-minute walk through the
camp's winding streets and tiny yards. The brown-eyed and blue-eyed
children we passed gave us big smiles and several of us remarked
how much they reminded us of a niece, nephew or neighbor child
back home.
Forty-five years ago the camp director was born in the camp.
He became a father and grandfather there. His dream is to go
back to the village of his parents and build a small home. He
says he doesn't care what flag flies over his village.
When the Dheisheh Camp was established by the United Nations'
relief program in 1949, following the Arab defeat by the Israelis
in the 1948 war, it had 4,000 refugees from 40 villages. They
thought life there would be temporary.
Today the camp has 11,000 inhabitants in the same small area.
The United Nations provides educational and health services and
help for special hardship cases. The camp, which is south of
Bethlehem on the main road between Jerusalem and Hebron, is one
of 19 on the West Bank.
The camp director, who was appointed to his position several
years ago, has seen life in the camp ebb and flow from difficult
to "very difficult" to "very, very difficult."
Suffering was intensified in 1967 during the Six Day War and
in 1987 when the Intifada (the Palestinian uprising) started.
Fences six meters high were constructed around the camp. Even
the top of the camp was covered. "Essentially we were sealed
inside the camp," the director recalls. Nineteen people
were killed inside the camp, and seven people were deported.
During the 1991 Gulf War the situation in the camp was "very,
very difficult." In March
1993 when the Israelis declared the area a military zone, unemployment
rose to 85 percent and the director feared starvation was around
the corner.
But in 1995 the peace process started. "We pray for peace,"
the camp director says. "We believe peace is the only solution
for any society to get rid of its problems. But we believe in
peace based on justice which gives us the right to establish
a Palestinian state. We have many fears for the future. We don't
know our destiny. The refugee camp is a continuous bleeding wound
with continuous suffering ... We are against violence and terrorism,
but we need real peace."
The residents of the camp are not imprisoned there but - as
with all Palestinians - their travels for shopping, work and
pleasure are restricted by the Israeli government. A few families
have moved from the camp because donations from family and friends
enabled them to purchase land. But most are economic prisoners.
When we entered his home the camp director instructed one
of his children (he has six, but not all are still at home) to
prepare tea for us. He said his wife was in Jordan obtaining
a bride for their oldest son, who is 20 and employed as a policeman.

Our entire group managed to find seats on three large rose-colored
sofas and a few stools and chairs. The room, with clean white
walls, was lit by two lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. There
were three small tables and one large one. On the wall was a
picture of the camp director's brother-in-law. We learned he
died a violent death, leaving seven children "and a miserable
wife."
Every family in the camp has at least one member who was killed
or who is in prison, the director told us. He said about 5,000
Palestinians are in prison.
We asked the director if he had ever been in prison. He said
he was imprisoned at age 18 for four years because he was a member
of the Palestinian General Union, a student group. He showed
us scars on his leg caused by prison beatings with an iron pipe.
His son, very tall and strikingly handsome, entered with glasses
filled to the brim with boiling hot tea. The glasses were too
hot to hold, but when they cooled we enjoyed the tea, which had
lots of sugar.
The camp director called for a cigarette which his son, who
was smoking, brought to him.
He told us about his daughter and son-in-law who were shot.
Her life was saved by a doctor who just happened to be in the
area.
"Peace must be between people," the director told
us. "You are in my home. There is no fear. But if I go to
Tel Aviv, five minutes after I arrive I'll be surrounded by Israeli
soldiers ... We want to live side by side with the Jews. We are
not against the Jews."
As we left his home and walked back to the entrance of the
camp, the director told me about the stress he is under. He has
many responsibilities "but no authority whatsoever."
He is on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week. A vacation or
foreign travel is impossible.

"There is no difference between you and me," he
said, "and you are living in human being conditions ...
"If you imprison a cat, this cat will be changed to a
lion. Any violence will be on the shoulders of (Israeli Prime
Minister) Netanyahu himself. He needs the peace far more than
we need it. I hope America will take more and more of a role
in facilitating the good results we are waiting for."
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