For 17-year-old Mahmud Nadweh, the Palestinian bid for statehood at the United Nations on Friday brings little
hope his life in an overcrowded, destitute Lebanese refugee camp will change for the better.
hope his life in an overcrowded, destitute Lebanese refugee camp will change for the better.
"I would like to have a passport -- a Palestinian passport," he said in a dusty alleyway flooded with sewage at Shatila camp in Beirut.
"I would like to no longer be a refugee," added Nadweh. "But what would a Palestinian state change in our lives?"
Along with an estimated 300,000 refugees in Lebanon, Nadweh will be watching Palestinian president Mahmud Abbas make a historic bid for statehood at the United Nations in New York, a move the United States has said it will veto.
After their exodus during the creation of Israel in 1948, the Palestinians' demand to return to their homeland has been the most sensitive issue in the seemingly unending Middle East conflict.
"Recognising the state of Palestine is a very important step, but the most important thing to us is the right to return," said Abu Maher, an official with the Palestine Liberation Organisation (PLO) in Beirut.
The right to return is guaranteed by UN Resolution 194 -- and not the Security Council -- but does not force Israel to take any steps towards that end.
There are an estimated 4.3 million Palestinian refugees worldwide, most of them in Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and the Gaza Strip, according to the Palestinian refugee agency UNRWA.
In Lebanon, the majority of refugees for six decades have been confined to 12 camps, where homes are built wall-to-wall in winding alleys and unemployment is sky-high.
At the Shatila camp, Kassem Abu Jamus proudly showed his identity paper issued under the British mandate. "Work: labourer; Race: Arab," it read.
The 76-year-old dreams of seeing his native Acre in Galilee, but is also well aware that the chances of him doing so are slight, no matter the outcome of Friday's Security Council session, which will be chaired by Lebanon.
"But no one leaves their country for ever," he sighed, his voice wavering. "There has to be a solution... whatever the price." Mahmud Hashem echoed his sentiment, shared by many, in saying that even UN recognition did not signal a return to what he still calls home.
"I know in my heart that I will never go back to Palestine," said the 44-year-old juice vendor. "Having a state would be good for our morale, it would be symbolic. But realistically it won't change anything for us."
Some refugees have not lost all hope of a return to their homeland.
At the Baddawi camp in northern Lebanon, Aida al-Nasser has made a vow to her late father that she is adamant she will keep.
"I promised him to come and tell him when the state of Palestine is created," the 53-year-old said as she lay flowers on his grave. "I promised him I would return."
Hoda al-Asmar, too, dreams of taking her four children back home.
"I want to go back to Palestine even if I have to live in a tent," she said. "Sixty years in exile is enough."
"I would like to no longer be a refugee," added Nadweh. "But what would a Palestinian state change in our lives?"
Along with an estimated 300,000 refugees in Lebanon, Nadweh will be watching Palestinian president Mahmud Abbas make a historic bid for statehood at the United Nations in New York, a move the United States has said it will veto.
After their exodus during the creation of Israel in 1948, the Palestinians' demand to return to their homeland has been the most sensitive issue in the seemingly unending Middle East conflict.
"Recognising the state of Palestine is a very important step, but the most important thing to us is the right to return," said Abu Maher, an official with the Palestine Liberation Organisation (PLO) in Beirut.
The right to return is guaranteed by UN Resolution 194 -- and not the Security Council -- but does not force Israel to take any steps towards that end.
There are an estimated 4.3 million Palestinian refugees worldwide, most of them in Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and the Gaza Strip, according to the Palestinian refugee agency UNRWA.
In Lebanon, the majority of refugees for six decades have been confined to 12 camps, where homes are built wall-to-wall in winding alleys and unemployment is sky-high.
At the Shatila camp, Kassem Abu Jamus proudly showed his identity paper issued under the British mandate. "Work: labourer; Race: Arab," it read.
The 76-year-old dreams of seeing his native Acre in Galilee, but is also well aware that the chances of him doing so are slight, no matter the outcome of Friday's Security Council session, which will be chaired by Lebanon.
"But no one leaves their country for ever," he sighed, his voice wavering. "There has to be a solution... whatever the price." Mahmud Hashem echoed his sentiment, shared by many, in saying that even UN recognition did not signal a return to what he still calls home.
"I know in my heart that I will never go back to Palestine," said the 44-year-old juice vendor. "Having a state would be good for our morale, it would be symbolic. But realistically it won't change anything for us."
Some refugees have not lost all hope of a return to their homeland.
At the Baddawi camp in northern Lebanon, Aida al-Nasser has made a vow to her late father that she is adamant she will keep.
"I promised him to come and tell him when the state of Palestine is created," the 53-year-old said as she lay flowers on his grave. "I promised him I would return."
Hoda al-Asmar, too, dreams of taking her four children back home.
"I want to go back to Palestine even if I have to live in a tent," she said. "Sixty years in exile is enough."
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