Summer refugee camp

“My neighbour died. She was drinking coffee on her 6th floor balcony and a bomb hit her.

“Every hour bombs hit 10 metres from my house. I just stayed inside because I didn’t know where to go. Then the mayor said I could go.”

Galit Damti has been brought by bus with her husband and two children from her home in Nahariya. She sits beside a 40-foot stage, rigged up to state of the art sound equipment set on white sand that leads to a turquoise blue sea. Bikinis and board shorts strut around the pool tables and chill out areas nearby. Yet, as much as it might be mistaken for one, Damti’s temporary refuge from Hezbollah’s katyusha rockets which reign down on northern Israel is not an Ibiza-style summer festival.

This camp near Askelon, 40kms south of Tel Aviv on Israel’s striking Mediterranean coast has been manufactured for those in most need in the north by Arkady Gaydamak, controversial Russian businessman, whom French police reportedly want to question in relation to an arms-for-oil deal with Angola involving former French officials.

For four weeks he has paid the maintenance costs of approximately $500,000 per day to keep the 6000 people in two tent cities covered, fed, occupied and entertained. This has included refuse collection, 24-hour security, 300 helpers and even the drafting of Israel’s biggest comedians and mainstream pop stars to provide evening entertainment. 35 hairdressers have been found amongst the camp’s numbers – which range from 2-month old babies to 80-year-old pensioners – to provide an additional service and keep refugees busy.

The “city” is run like a summer event. The luminous wristbands used to designate individuals allotted meal times further the impression that a fat one’s going down in Askelon, and on the surface people appear to be enjoying themselves. As I enter the camp my chaperone leaves me with the words, “Have a good time,” and talking to those within gives the impression of relaxed ease. “It’s very nice,” says Lioz, 16, here from Kriatata with her sister and parents. “We can swim, we have everything that we need.” But she also says that she talks to her remaining family in the north everyday, as, scratch the surface and there are of course much more serious issues at play.

Alongside concerns for family members – there’s constant queues to use the free telephones – a sense of persecution runs high. Damti says, “It’s very sad that the world sees it from Lebanon’s perspective and not Israel’s. I don’t know why people say Arab is good and Israel is not. Arabs don’t like America, Israel, Spain, all of the world. I don’t think that the world likes the Jewish. ”

Haviv Gyuav, 30, a disabled army veteran said, “Maybe we are too soft. We tried everything giving them Palestine, Lebanon but still they attack us.”

The camp is symbolic of a pulling together of the Israeli people. In the southernmost city of Eilat, which has almost tripled its population of 55,000 since the war started, refugees are being hosted in their 20s and 30s by local families, restaurants and entertainment is provided at a free or reduced rate and public buildings have been made available for shelter. It is estimated that 6 percent of Israeli’s 7 million population has been displaced by the war.

But it’s the future that people are looking to, as Damti continues, “I am very, very sorry that people in Lebanon died. But I think that we need to take care of Hezbollah for good. The sooner the better, then we can go back to our regular life, after all my husband has only taken a week’s vacation from work.”