Exiled Palestinians commemorate the Nakba of 1948, Serene Assir reports from Ein Helweh and Beirut "We have a country of words. Speak, speak, that I may know the end of this travel." -- Mahmoud Darwish Fifty-six years after the unilateral declaration of the State of Israel, Palestinians living in the Ein Helweh refugee camp on the outskirts of the south Lebanese city of Sidon took to the streets to bring back to memory the forced exodus of Palestinians consequent to this act, beginning 15 May 1948. The demonstration formally began at about 10am and continued through most of the day. That evening, the Beirut Arab University hosted an event at which various speakers -- including Lebanese, Syrian and Palestinian statesmen, thinkers and religious leaders -- addressed a mostly Palestinian audience on the right of return, the Intifada, Iraq and US attempts to dismantle the Palestinian resistance and put pressure on Syria. Ein Helweh is the largest refugee camp in Lebanon. The ruling national regime does not interfere in the camp's internal affairs, and thus it essentially constitutes a canton within the state, with its inhabitants living in exile generation through generation, practising their own politics and exercising their own identity. Palestinians have been living in south Lebanon since the 1948 Nakba, or catastrophe, with the numbers rising steadily through the years, particularly after the Cairo Agreement was signed in 1969 legitimising limited resistance against Israel across the border. The day opened with speeches on an improvised stage by leaders of the Lebanese-based pro-Palestinian movement, including Palestinian Commander for the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO) Taha Mohamed Abdel-Qader -- known by his nom de guerre, Khaled Aref -- and pan-Arab writer and activist Maan Bashour. "We love Lebanon, but we love Palestine more," said Aref in reference to the unrealised Palestinian right of return. Bashour universalised the plight of the Palestinians by speaking of the resistance of "our brothers in Iraq". Following the speeches, a march through the camp began. Those who did not march gathered in solidarity on the sides of the streets, looked out of their balconies and windows, or stood outside their shops. Many of the men were heavily armed with machine guns and some of the little boys held toy guns. Women of all ages held up banners and Palestinian flags, others held their children who were happy to be out on the street and to see so much activity. Many flashed victory signs, while some of the older children climbed up onto walls and rooftops to watch, take photographs or film the proceedings. The march was led by a white van out of which patriotic and religious songs and recorded speeches boomed. One of the songs was in praise of Palestinian President Yasser Arafat -- known as Abu Ammar -- who led the resistance from Lebanon, following the expulsion of the PLO leadership from neighbouring Jordan in the summer of 1971, up until 1982. "You are the future" was the slogan spoken of Abu Ammar in one of the recordings. Further back in the march, effigies of US President George W Bush and British Prime Minister Tony Blair were torched. The evening's conference brought together refugees from camps across Lebanon, the speeches seeking to address issues of concern to the Palestinians within the context of the US-engineered current world order. Gathering outside the lecture hall, refugees whose trip to Beirut that day was subsidised by Fatah spoke to Al-Ahram Weekly. Most were born in Lebanon and have never been to Palestine. Nevertheless, their accent in Arabic is distinctly Palestinian, and their sense of national identity very strong. "I want to go back. I want to go back now," said Ahmed, aged 15, from Burj Al-Barajneh refugee camp, while admitting that he knows nothing about Palestine except that it "has trees" and is "very pretty". The Palestinians in Lebanon are very aware that in exile they are denied most of their basic human rights. A woman living in Ein Helweh who asked not to be named told the Weekly that the main problem for Palestinians lies in the fact that they cannot find work except illegally, or with extreme difficulty, that they cannot purchase land and that they are denied access to the few public services Lebanon disposes. "But not one of the Arab leaders is responding. We are raising our voices in demonstrations, what more can we do?" Many echoed the sentiment expressed in a banner held up by a young boy Saturday morning in Ein Helweh, which read: "Revolution until victory". Ahmed said: "We don't want demonstrations, we just need weapons and to go to Palestine." Ahmed, aged 19, came to Beirut from Jenin to study pharmacology. He described the situation in Jenin as being far worse than has been depicted by the media over the past few years. He criticised the mainstream media for failing to portray the daily atrocities committed by the Israeli Defence Forces, even before the 2002 massacre took place, saying that "information is hidden" in order to allow the Israeli regime to behave in constant breach of international law. On the other hand, asked about how he perceived his situation as a Palestinian living in a refugee camp in Lebanon, he told the Weekly "our situation here is much worse than it is in our country. At least in Palestine, we are home." Coming from a witness to the massacres in Jenin, this is a very telling sign of the reality of the situation of Palestinians in Lebanon. What keeps the hopes of the Palestinians living in the camps alive? It is hard to say, particularly in light of their marginalisation from both Lebanese and global politics. Many publicly pay homage to Fatah and Abu Ammar, fueling their political activism in this way, though surely the source of their aspirations is more profound. As an old woman watched the march in Ein Helweh, she wept. She was perhaps one of the few old enough to have lived in Palestine prior to the Nakba. The youth carry her memory as received knowledge and culture -- Ein Helweh hosts a Palestinian cultural centre, for example. Even if the chances of return seem slim, the Palestinian refugees' very longing -- one which does not diminish through time -- shapes the tragedy of their nation, their dreams and the future of their movement. For now, they live at once trapped by politics and freed by memory, for the Palestinian political consciousness is the only territory Israel has failed to occupy.
