Written by: Asmaa Rashed
Translated into English by: Riad Haydar
The Za’atari Camp is located in Jordan’s Mafraq Governorate. It was founded in June 2012 with the intention of receiving only a few dozen Syrian families fleeing the war at that time. Now in 2024, approximately 80,000 people live in the camp, according to UN statistics. Most people in Za’atari Camp prefer to continue living in caravans rather than return to Syria, because they believe Syria is not safe for their return and that the main reason for their displacement still exists.
At first glance, when you look at that barren desert and see the camp standing alone in its vastness and expansiveness, you will automatically start counting the infinite number of caravans, some decrepit and some renovated. Curiosity drives you to enter and meet the people who live inside these metal boxes (caravans) while you’re saddened, filled with pain over what has happened to these great people.
You’ll stand in front of the large Za’atari Camp Gate. There are two separate gates; one for people, and another designated for trucks on the other side. The gate designated for people is staffed by Jordanian Gendarmerie personnel, whose task is to maintain security and inspect people entering and leaving the camp. Although I have an intense fear of communicating with anyone wearing a military uniform, my experience at the camp neutralised this fear. The Jordanian Gendarmerie are very kind to the people, and spare every effort to helping people in the camp.
Of course, camp residents have special Jordanian security IDs. They must obtain entry and exit permits for the camp so they can leave to conduct business or visit relatives and friends. There are special permits for university students.
After crossing two security checkpoints, you enter Za’atari, or as I call it, the Camp of al Sabireen (Camp of the Patient Ones). I gave it this name because of what I witnessed inside this place and what I saw of peoples’ endurance, patience and adaptation to reality.
Despite the development of the outside world, life in the camp has taken us back to ancient times, as if we were disconnected from the world that lives beyond the camp walls. As if we started from point zero. The camp is divided into various neighbourhoods and numerous streets, each with its own name. You will pass through the Za’atari Camp market, which was named the Champs-Élysées by foreign delegations who visited the camp with international organisations. The name came from the similarities between them: The Champs-Élysées in Paris is a straight road that ends with a large gate; crowded with people, cars and shops. Indeed, when I immigrated to France, I found this comparison apt. However, unlike the sounds you hear in France—the sound of silence and city noise—in Za’atari Camp, you hear the voices of vendors calling out to attract customers and the hoofbeats of animals pulling carts (tanbar), which is the only means of transportation for people besides bicycles.
You’ll be drawn to the smell of fresh falafel, which Za’atari Camp residents eat frequently as it’s a popular Syrian street food loved by both young and old. There are certainly various foods sold there, such as shawarma, grilled meats and different types of pastries. But as you walk among the houses (caravans), you’ll encounter different food aromas like molokhia, kibbeh, fried foods and mleihi. The food smells vary due to the diverse Syrian population living in the camp—people from Homs, Damascus, Houran, Ghouta and other places. And certainly, it differs between the wealthy and the poor; you find this social class diversity everywhere.
I once lived in a densely populated neighbourhood where I built my first tent in 2012 and so I’ve witnessed all stages of development. I’m talking about the transition from tents to caravans; and even how the appearance of caravans began to change over the years as people started getting creative by shaping the caravan panels. They tried to make them look beautiful and similar to their homes in Syria. For example, you’ll see the courtyard (bahrah) that typically centres Damascus’s old houses; a small garden growing various types of vegetables; or a small olive tree at one corner of the house, which was present in every home in Houran.
You’ll find drawings and decorations on caravan walls that remind us of our great country’s history. Some people excelled in creating ways to transfer and immortalise Syrian heritage, including artists who created structures of every historical monument in Syria, displayed in Za’atari Camp as miniature models. Others became creative with rock formations in homes, giving a glimpse of the old stone houses that still exist in Houran, Sweida and other areas. I remember our house was distinctively built from black and white stone before the war machine in Syria destroyed it.
Over the years, people tried to maintain social cohesion and the customs and traditions associated with diverse Syrian society. Traditional weddings that separate men from women are still held. The men’s celebration takes place in a large square decorated with a big tower specifically for weddings, lit from all directions. There are special dabke dances and chants connected to Syrian heritage, especially Hourani, while women celebrate with the bride at home. The celebration is accompanied by a lunch feast served to all attendees. Even in times of mourning, condolence houses are established and people support each other. The same applies to occasions and holidays, where you can see the solidarity of Syrian society despite difficult living conditions. Women participate significantly in strengthening these social bonds and making life better, reducing the burden of refugee life by supporting their men and children and helping them overcome the major challenges in the camp. In my opinion, they are the ones who make this place livable.
The women of Za’atari can take a piece of fabric and make something to decorate the caravan; or make a piece of clothing for a child. She can carry large amounts of water from far distances; can establish a home with her husband; prepare food even when there aren’t any ingredients for cooking at home. She can care for her children and help them with their studies under dim light due to frequent power outages; and raise them well despite all the difficult circumstances that encourage otherwise.
We shouldn’t forget the suffering during winter—a season which has a significant impact on people in camps in general. Fires often increase, electricity hours decrease and work becomes scarce for farmers. The caravans start leaking on their inhabitants’ heads due to the wear and tear that has occurred after all these years. The side streets begin forming small muddy lakes, as if they’ve become a view that must accompany the camp throughout winter.
Women’s roles in Za’atari Camp have emerged in many areas. Syrian women continue to maintain their social value and try hard to highlight their role to reach beyond the camp’s walls. While there are no physical barriers, invisible boundaries constrain women’s aspirations beyond the camp; from restrictive social customs to the daily challenges that consume their lives. Yet they have the will and hope to transform their refugee life from an ordeal into a gift and an opportunity to live again.
This is part of a simple description of my camp. When you see the houses from the inside, you will see the Syria we love. Soon, we’ll return carrying the green flag, declaring the victory we have always wished for.
