All language subtitles for awno

- Ok?
- Yeah

The Ain el-HelwehEyad camp
stretches from that hill over there -

- all the way down to the main road.
That's the southern side.

The western side goes from that corner
all the way to Saida.

That's the western side.

And the northern side is
from the Mieh Mieh Hills over there -

- eastwards to that corner there.
That's the Ain el-Helweh refugee camp.

What's that down there?

That's a cemetery for the Palestinians
who live in the camp.

But due to large numbers of dead they
made a new cemetery closer to the camp.

This is Ain el-Helweh, the Palestinian
refugee camp where my family is from.

It's been here for more than 60 years

I've always wanted to tell a story about this place.
My father and I have been filming here for as long as I remember.

And for some reason everything had to be recorded

Mahdi, get a shot of those buildings.
Film that mosque.

I can't hold it steady, dad.
These roads are terrible.

Ain el-Helweh means 'The Sweet Spring' in Arabic
but for years I thought it meant 'The Beautiful Well'.

In a way it makes no difference
most people struggle to find anything sweet or beautiful about this place.

But to me Ain el-Helweh has always felt like home.

AIN EL-HELWEH
Summer of 2010

- Hello ...
- ID cards, please.

- Which one of you is Mahdi?
- I'm Mahdi ...

Is this your ID?
What model is it?

Huh? Model?

- Which year?
- It's issued in 1983.

- What kind of ID is this?
- It's a regular ID card ...

- What's the camera for?
- Filming.

Okay, step out of the car.

Step out of the car.

There's always a problem with my ID card at the checkpoint.

My refugee status expired 29 years ago.

You know, not everyone is allowed into Ain el-Helweh
It's exclusively for Palestinian refugees.

And because Ain el-Helweh is in south Lebanon
the Lebanese army control every entrance to the camp.

And every time, I have to convince them to let me in.

A guy got killed in there.

- When?
- A while back ... Stabbed with knives.

They ripped his gut open
and left him here.

Why?
What did he do?

He worked for the Israelis.

- Did you know him?
- Sure.

My friends in Europe have never understood why I'd
spend my holidays in a place like this

But let me explain

Dubai
Spring 1985

This is me, 5 years old
I'm greeted my my mum and younger brother
after a long day at school.

And that's my dad filming from the balcony.

I grew up in a small, air conditioned, flat in Dubai in the 1980s

Like so many Palestinians at the time
my parents had moved to the Gulf, hoping for a better future.

My entire world was shaped by hours spent
in front of the television.

Cartoons and Michael Jackson videos.

Here I am trying to reenact a scene from 'Thriller'.

Life back then was pretty simple,
just me and my little brother playing around.

My father was obsessed with his video camera.
He was always filming.

Or instructing others to film.

Focus, focus ...

Here he is preparing one of his home movies

Just make sure you get it in focus.

That evening we celebrated my brother's second birthday
and everyone was having a great time

Or, you know, at least pretending to!

I guess looking back now I can understand
why my dad was so crazy about his camera.

It was his way of sending greetings to my
uncles and aunties in Ain el-Helweh.

You see my uncle also had a camera.

Dad would send him home movies from Dubai
and my uncle would send his little films about life in the camp.

Here he is showing the latest bombs that
had wrecked our neighbourhood

Stand over here.

This place got hit by two rockets.
See that?

Say hi ...

That's me and my brother in Ain el-Helweh

Every summer my parents would take us there
to visit our family.

To me, going to Ain el-Helweh was better than going to Disneyland.

Film this ...

This is standard,
and this is not.

This was the summer of 1994.

Back then my uncle owned the only sports shop in the camp

and during the World Cup this place would become the centre of the world

My uncle was a true Italian supporter.

but I was a true Brazilian.

and when Baggio missed his penalty in the final
my team won the World Cup.

This is the best summer I can remember
and Ain el-Helweh became the greatest place in the world.

That's enough now!

Enough, I said!

I'll smack you right in the face!
I've had enough of you.

Get out of here, you little shit!

You little son of a bitch ...
Get the hell out of here!

Can't we get some peace around here?

We're leaving, old man.

What do you think this is?

For the next month I'm going to be staying with my Granddad.

He came to Ain el-Helweh at the age of 16
and has lived here all his life.

This year he turned 80.

Since my grandmother passed away 2 years ago
he's been living on his own.

Squash that one.
Get the one by the door.

Just step on him.
Squash him, man.

Stop filming and step on him!
Are you afraid of a cockroach?

- No, but ...
- Why then?

I just don't want to kill him.

Are you filming a cockroach?
I swear you foreigners are crazy.

- You said it.
- Where's the coffee?

Look.
He's filming us right now.

Cut it out!

Come on, son.
That's enough now.

He wants to show this
to people in the west, you know.

I'm against the whole idea.

Granddad has always refused to leave Ain el-Helweh.

For years my mother has begged him to come stay with us in Denmark.

It's hot in Denmark too?
You're kidding?

Just like here ...

I swear. It's 28 in the shade.
It's just too much.

He spends most of his days mellowing in the alleyway
greeting every passer-by.

More than anything, granddad insists on his right to return.

And whenever I come to visit him he's always reminded me of that.

We will never forget our land, son.
It's our forefathers' land.

And one day we shall return
with God's help and through hard work.

We will return, God willing.

God bless you. Take care
of your dad and all good people.

Walk only the righteous path
and you will never go astray.

I love you.
May God be with you, grandson.

In 1948 Palestine ceased to exist and the state of Israel was declared.

More than half a million Palestinians were expelled from their homes
to make way for Jewish immigrants.

To the Palestinians this became
known as: The Nakba, the great catastrophe.

They set up refugee camps in neighbouring countries
hoping they'd soon return home.

But David Ben Gurion, Israel's first prime minster,
thought otherwise.

He famously said of the exiled Palestinians:
that one day "The old will die and the young will forget".

It's one square kilometre in size
with more than 70,000 refugees.

People spend their days sitting around and killing time

In a sense, not much has changed in the past 60-odd years.

People are still waiting.

Except every 4 years, things change.

And this is the reason why I'm back

During the World Cup Ain el-Helweh is turned upside down.

Germany or Argentina?

For a whole month, people are no longer stateless refugees.

Instead, they become Italians

and Germans

Mahdi, you're Brazilian!

and Brazilians

- Say Germany.
- Germany!

The Germans are the best!

Say no to Brazil!

- We lost, lady ...
- Good for you.

You supported Germany?
Loser.

- Cut that out!
- Brazil lost.

I don't give a shit.
I'll come up there if you don't stop.

Germany and the rest of the west
pour their full support on Israel.

They're even helping Israel
to besiege and starve people in Gaza.

- So why cheer for those criminals?
- Come on. They just like football.

It's ridiculous. People are only
interested in stupid things these days.

As long as they just watch football.
Last time it ended in a bloodbath.

World Cup
2006

- Okay, introduce yourself.
- I'm going to need your shades.

- I need shades for this.
- You want them on? Why?

It's better that way.

Okay, go ahead.

What do you want to know?
My name?

Tell me what happened last night.

Last night we were watching the match
between Italy and Germany.

- Who did you support?
- I'm with the Italian team.

The reason being that they once
dedicated the world cup to us.

They dedicated the cup to the PLO.

So I feel it's my duty
to support such a team.

- When did that happen?
- I think it was in 82.

But I'm not sure exactly ...
Time doesn't interest me.

I hate the thought of time passing.
That's why I don't wear a watch.

- So what's with the wristband?
- 'Italia For Ever'.

That cut is a reminder.

What happened after the game?
I heard somebody got hurt.

There's a guy in the emergency room
with a brain injury.

It's a mess.
He's still unconscious.

- But we'll win either way.
- How's that?

We were defending ourselves.
He started this.

What if the guy dies?

That's normal ... No problem.

World Cup Final
2006

This was the summer that Abu Eyad and I became close friends.

His team won the World Cup that year.

and then the war with Israel started.

I saw 3 rockets strike down
right over there and explode.

Did you see that?

Abu Ali pointed and I saw it drop.
I just wish I could see the jet.

I wasn't able to share the excitement with Abu Eyad and his friends

I guess I'd lost my Palestinian cool

I just didn't have the guts to hang out in a war zone

Ambulances have been busy
carrying the injured to hospitals.

Mahdi Fleifel is with his family
in South Lebanon.

The situation
is getting worse by the day.

You never know
where the next bomb will hit.

I took my Danish passport and left for Syria
hoping my embassy would help me get back to Denmark.

Leaving Ain el-Helweh was like running away
and I felt ashamed.

It took me 3 years to find the courage to return

but when I came back nothing seemed to have changed.

Abu Eyad's House
2009

Aren't you getting up?

You want to go down to the river?

It's two pm.

This is the music you brought me?

This is the music you brought me?

Abu Eyad's real name is actually Bassam
but everyone here calls him Abu Eyad

He's names after PLO's chief of intelligence
who was assassinated in Tunisa in 1991

I'll show you the cave
where we practice shooting.

When we shoot in here
you can't hear the gunshots outside.

Since the age of 7 he's been a member of Fatah
the largest faction in PLO.

Ain el-Helweh has many rivalling forces
but Fatah is the dominant one.

They control the security of the camp,
and protect it from any outside interference.

- How's it going?
- Check out these hot beauty queens.

Look at those legs, Abu Eyad.

Gold, man! Gold!

- What's that on your t-shirt? Hebrew?
- Yeah ...

- You working for the Jews now?
- Yeah ...

Don't move!

The people's court
hereby sentences you to ...

The gun is loaded ...
Death by blowing your balls off.

Is this Hebrew or what?

He says the writing on this t-shirt
is in Hebrew.

- It sure looks like Hebrew.
- It's not Hebrew. Probably Chinese.

- What does it say in English?
- That's not English.

Abu Ali's son thinks that this jersey
belongs to an Israeli player.

- Where's the carrot juice stand?
- You mean Ahmed? He's over there.

Fresh watermelons!

Commander Abu Eyad.
Good to see you.

Here ...

I heard something about you.

- Was Maya your girlfriend?
- That was a long time ago.

So why did you leave her, my friend?
She's married now, you know.

- I went to her wedding.
- Really?

She loved you, you know ...

But you're a womanizer, my friend.
Too much of a womanizer.

When you were still with Maya
there were other women in your life.

Or am I wrong?

Am I wrong?

Maybe back then, but not anymore.

- Yeah, back then. That's what I meant.
- Now there's no one in my life.

Are you saying I'm not in your life?

I'm devastated.

My holiday in Ain el-Helweh pretty much consists of hanging
out with Abu Eyad at the market.

and then at night, we head to one of the local PLO offices.

You see Palestinian refugees in Lebanon have no rights.

They are barred from working in most professions.

Like the rest of the guys here, Abu Eyad depends on Fatah,

who provide him with a small allowance.

But it's just enough for coffee and cigarettes.

So what's your daily routine?

I get up, chill at the market
and then I hang out at the office.

After that I shower, go back
to the market and then I head back here.

We smoke a couple of rockets
and chill out.

Then we go out on patrols
around the camp.

The football vibe
isn't like it used to be.

All the guys have left ...
The whole mood is gone.

It's not like the old days.

- Why are you sitting here alone?
- We were just watching the game.

- When do we get paid?
- I'm not sure. Next few days.

Ain el-Helweh used to be the best place to watch the World Cup.
But this year is different.

The magic has gone
and Abu Eyad doesn't care about it any more

To hell with love, man.

- That's the one?
- That's it.

How am I supposed to talk
while I'm filming?

Hey, Abu Eyad ...
Film me with this.

You left the country and came back
and here I am. Nothing has changed.

Throughout our friendship, Abu Eyad and I have never talked about this

But in a way he's right:
There's always been an unspoken truth between us.

I possess a freedom he doesn't have
I can leave this place whenever I want

but for him it's a different story.

He's trapped here, and we both know it.

There was a time in my life when I experienced
what growing up in this place really felt like.

When I was 7, my father moved us back to the camp,
things weren't going well in Dubai.

I discovered Ain el-Helweh's local cinema
and would spend all my time there.

It showed all the best action films in the world,
in fact that's all it showed!

We all love the stories of the American hero
stories of the lone warrior

the good hearted one who had no choice but to fight the evils of the world

It was exciting being one of the local kids
but I wasn't quite built for it

The guys here were obsessed with being strong
and having big muscles.

The only sensible guy at the time was my mother's uncle Said

I loved hanging out with him

We used to go to the cinema in Saida
to watch kung-fu movies

Sometimes we'd watch three or four movies back to back

Although I must admit, it wasn't always kung-fu movies!

Said!

- Who is it?
- Mahdi. Are you upstairs?

I'm in here.

- What are you doing today?
- Not a thing.

- Aren't you working today?
- I've got nothing on.

Where do you want to go?
I'm going out on the street.

- Can I come along?
- Sure.

It's hot today ...

Over the years Said has become somewhat unpredictable

You just never know when he'll snap

Hand me the shampoo.

- What is this shampoo?
- How should I know? Just shampoo.

He keeps to himself and spends most of his time
looking after his pigeons

- Now what, uncle?
- We leave it to dry.

When did you arrive?
How long have you been here?

- He's been here for two months now.
- And you don't let me know?!

I was joking, man.
He arrived two days ago.

- But you said two months ago.
- I was joking.

- Well, I believed you.
- He believed me.

Said is actually Granddad's half brother

I don't know what it is
but these two guys have never got along.

Film the bird.

Film it, man.

- What do you do with the cans?
- What do you mean?

- When you're done crushing them?
- I sell them.

- How are they sold?
- By the kilo.

- How much for a kilo?
- 1000 lira ... less than a dollar.

- Have you been outside the camp?
- Yesterday. And I came straight back.

I went to work in Saida
and came right back to the camp.

Son of a bitch!

That little son of a bitch
was going to eat him.

- What's on TV?
- "Birds of Heaven".

- A kids' show?
- For kids, yeah.

I never watch anything else.
Sometimes I watch Hezbollah's channel.

If there's a good movie with Adel Imam
I watch it.

Your granddad keeps pestering me to get
married. I can barely support myself.

How can I get married
with the lousy work I do?

There's no way I can get married.
I hardly make enough to feed myself.

All your granddad talks about
is getting the kids to send money.

"Save up for it".
How can I save up?

- Would you like to go abroad?
- Sure I want to go.

But they're not helping me leave
or get married or any goddamn thing.

They haven't done a thing for me,
your uncles. Not a thing.

And promise me to show them this.

Make sure your uncles hear my words.
Make sure they hear this.

Your uncle Mohammed let me down twice.
Twice he said he'd get me out of here.

I paid a fortune to get the passport
but never got to use it.

Your uncles made a fool out of me.
They never helped me leave or anything.

Palestine has really
fucked us over, man.

This revolution destroyed us.
I just want to fuck all those guys up.

I wish all Palestinians would just die
and not a single one be left alive.

I wish Israel
would just massacre us all.

I'm serious ...

I mean it and I don't give a fuck.
Let the whole world see this film.

It's the truth.

They really fucked us up, man.
They destroyed us.

- The Israelis?
- No, we destroyed ourselves.

Our revolution's failed leaders, the
thieves and the corrupted destroyed us.

The coke heads,
the stoners, the gamblers.

Who else?

When we were kids they used to say:
Arafat doesn't like the educated ones.

"He likes the wild ones."

And that had an impact on me.

"He likes the warriors,
the tough guys."

That's what they used to tell us.

I don't want to return to Palestine.

Ain el-Helweh
2000

I remember when I first visited Ain El-Helweh on my own. It was the winter of 2000,
six years after that summer in ‘94.

During those years, my whole world had changed.

Brazil lost the world cup to France,
I graduated high school
and my parents were now divorced.

I decided to spend christmas in Ain El-Helweh.
But even Ain El-Helweh had changed.

Mahdi, how are you?
You've changed.

It was no longer the Disneyland of my childhood –
just a gray old refugee camp.

For the first time I realised that people weren’t here by choice.

They’ve been waiting for decades to return to their homes.

I wasn’t sure what to make of Ain El-Helweh anymore.
I’d become a stranger in what I always believed was my home.

Hands up idiot!

As an outsider, I now felt a responsibility to document everything.

Long live Palestine!

And I kept hoping that one day this place would start to make sense to me again.

- What's wrong?
- Don't joke around.

Don't you dare make fun of me
when I'm in uniform.

- But I just ...
- Get the hell out of here!

Fuck it all!
You think I give a shit?

- Go set yourself on fire.
- Why not? I'd be better off, I swear.

- Why should he set himself on fire?
- You call this a life? It's fucked up.

- I swear, man ...
- Hey, what can we do?

- Don't touch it.
- Let me see it. It's not made of gold.

- You pig. What's that for?
- For killing people.

- Do you stab or slash?
- Whatever. You just say the word.

I’ve always been fascinatied by these guys, and in particular Abu Eyad.

Whenever he tells me stories about his life, the stuff he gets up to, I can’t help but imagine what my life would have been like if I’d never left the camp.

- Are we going through the alley?
- Sure. Alleys are the best.

Great for shortcuts.

Our love is lost.
My heart's love is gone ... oh, Mahdi.

- Why are you laughing?
- How should I know?

It's just all this ... Forget it.

Tell me that story, you know ...

That time I was jailed?

Now that's a fucked up story, man.

- How old were you?
- I guess I was around 14.

They threw us into a cell and took our
clothes off ... and then electricity.

They used electrical cables
like the ones for a stereo.

They stripped off the coating
at both ends -

- and attached the wire
to both wrists with tape.

Then they threw water on us.

He would just do this with the wire ...

Every time he did that
you'd get electrocuted.

I swear, I could tell you stuff ...

When I tell the guys
they think I'm making it up.

Only the guy I was in prison with
and my brother Walid believe me.

Why were you arrested?

They accused us
of being agents for Arafat.

When Arafat signed the peace deal
they accused him of treason.

They said he had sold Palestine
and the whole cause and so on.

They still believed in the struggle to
liberate Palestine and all that stuff.

- Hi guys.
- Abu Eyad ...

You're the man!

How are you?
Everything cool?

Mahdi, make sure you film this.
Show him the gun.

Fuck these weapons.
and the whole revolution.

As I was saying, my friend ...
Harbe, put your mom away.

I swear I'll shoot myself.
$5000 or I'll blow my head off.

Do the honourable thing.
Just shoot yourself.

Oslo Peace Accord
Washington 1993

I remember that handshake very clearly.

My dad recorded the ceremony on video and would play it over and over again.

He could not believe what had happened - in fact none of us could.

One time he threw his shoe at the TV and shouted so loud the next-door neighbours complained about him.

It wasn’t so much the sloppy deal that Arafat had agreed to sign –

we all knew that whatever that was, it made no claim for the rights of our relatives in Ain el-Helweh.

It was because Chairman Arafat was the first one to reach out his hand.

- What's that for?
- A lamp for the chicks.

- Is that really necessary?
- It gets cold at night. They're young.

A lamp to keep the chicks warm?
How much did you pay for that?

- 40.000.
- 40? I'll bet you paid 60.

- So what now?
- Nothing.

Just cleaning up
and then I'm going out.

- A good day to you.
- And to you, my dear.

Film that guy. Film him!

Don't listen to him.
The man is a fool.

It’s not easy being around Said when he is out in public.
It’s like he becomes someone else.

Over the years, our neighborhood have cast him as the village idiot.

Everyone expects him to play this role.

- Come on, Said. Do that thing ...
- Did you see that?

When I lived here, I remember Said being completely different.

He and his older brother Jamal were the pride of our neighborhood.
Everyone admired them.

Jamal was a local legend.

During the Israeli invasion, he built traps in the alleyways to ambush the invading army.

When the Israelis caught him, they couldn’t believe their eyes. He was just a kid, 13 years old.

Jamal became so famous in Ain El-Helweh, they made comic books about him.

After the invasion, Jamal and Said quit school to help rebuild the camp.

But ever since Jamal passed away, Said has never been the same.

How do you expect us to dance?
There's no room.

And it's way too hot.

I was invited to the wedding across the alley –
our neighbor’s daughter was getting married to a Palestinian in Europe.

When I lived here, I remember attending weddings on rooftops with guys firing guns in the air.

My parents actually met on a rooftop.

They were next-door neighbors and my dad caught a of my mother hanging out the laundry.

They married and soon after left for Dubai.

This wedding is also a farewell party.
Tomorrow morning, the bride is leaving Ain el-Helweh to go and live

with her husband in Germany.

Let's all go together.

- Smile, you're on camera.
- You're supposed to be happy.

Ain El-Helweh
1988

In the late 80’s, my dad got a call from his friend Abu Soltan in Denmark.

He told my dad that we’d be crazy not to come and join him.

Within 2 weeks my father had gone to the Danish Embassy,
sorted our emigration papers, and packed our bags.

No one in Ain El-Helweh had ever heard of Denmark or even knew where this place might be.

Leaving the camp was tough.
Denmark was cold, and people stayed mostly indoors.

I imagine that Abu Soltan was the first Palestinian to set foot in Denmark.

We relied on his advice on everything

he even showed us where to find Halal meat.

You know, I have to talk to my wife about the other one

because, we have agreed, she's at home tonight so you call me on the phone.

We got a house in the suburbs and tried our best to fit in.

But sometimes my dad would do things like park his car in front of our house – Blasting Arabic songs for the whole neighborhood.

When he did this - I just wanted to disappear.

I couldn’t tell anyone at the time, but the truth is I just wanted to go back to the camp.

- Abu Eyad!
- I'm upstairs.

- Hi, Mahdi.
- What's up?

You've got to see this.

I found the lyrics
of the old revolutionary songs.

The voice of my suffering
and yearning is growing.

I became a bullet,
a slap in the face of every traitor.

"We are bizing.
You are bizing. They are bizing."

Is that really 'bizing' here?

- That's biting.
- Biting?

- I got the pronunciation all wrong.
- What are you doing?

I'm trying to figure out what to keep
and what to throw away.

What to keep and what to get rid of.

What's this? "Political statement from
Fatah's central committee bla bla ..."

Fuck them.

Why do you think
they still have offices here?

Because of the money.
It's about the money.

- What do you mean?
- It's all about the money.

So they can keep sending them money.

If they close the offices down, there's
no reason for Fatah to send money.

And how are Fatah's supporters
supposed to survive if they don't?

What about the veterans,
the old fighters?

They gave their whole lives
for the revolution and all that.

How are they supposed to survive?
By taking it up the ass for money?

Someone needs to pay them.
You know what I mean?

Why are you moving, Abu Eyad?

I need to leave this house.

I can rent it out and help my parents.
100 dollars isn't bad.

It's Ghassan Kanafani's book
'A World Not Ours'.

I could understand Abu Eyad's growing frustration
with Fatah and life here

but when I asked him where he would go after
he rents out his home, I was surpassed when

he said he'd stay at his local Fatah office.

As we carried his stuff to his parents
I wondered if me turning up and asking questions

all the time had made things worse

Maybe I had caused all this.

Welcome, welcome.

Welcome,
how good to see you.

- Welcome, welcome.
- How are you, uncle?

Here's Hibhib.

- And here's Sahlab and Hadi.
- She's so sweet. What a great smile.

Here are all
the stupid Palestine pictures.

- Your father would love to see those.
- He'll go crazy: 'The baby! The baby'

Dad! I've got the perfect picture
for you right here.

Who's this?

Is that the baby?
Where did you find this?

- I've been keeping it.
- Take care of it.

- That baby is your cousin.
- She lives in Palestine.

Yes, that's right ...

Uncle Abu el-Walid has always been a man of mystery.

I remember the way the whole neighbourhood went quiet
when he'd pass through with his bodyguards

As kids we used to compete with each other
on how many stories we knew about him.

His secret missions in Palestine
and all the battles he fought there.

Colonel Abu el-Walid retired 7 years ago

like my granddad, he's never given up the idea of returning to Palestine

but he's got a slightly different approach

and if you ask him he'll lay out a strategy in a split second.

You know how
Israel's back will be broken?

It will be a scenario
of total destruction.

They won't be able to withstand it.
Four targets will be destroyed.

West Jerusalem, Haifa, Tel Aviv
and all their nuclear sites.

Israel can never
withstand such an attack.

- How will the Americans do that?
- With missiles.

The US will take out their nuclear
sites, son. That's the only way.

Israel can't really use those weapons.
We're too close.

If they bomb South Lebanon
it'll all blow back in their face.

Syria? The wind will blow it right
back. The same with Gaza and Egypt.

- They've got tactical bombs.
- So what? It's the wind that decides.

They won't dare do anything, son.

But the Jews
have shown their power.

Not like that son of a bitch
Mahmoud Abbas handing over his papers.

All his documents ...

And then he makes a CIA agent head
of police in Ramallah. Shame on him.

- So the next war is the end of Israel?
- Absolutely ... 100% sure.

Bon appetite.

- I'm going over to Said. Want to come?
- Nope.

Tell me about Jamal.

Jamal ... What can I say?
Jamal's blood was boiling.

I don't know what to tell you.

God bless his soul.
He's gone now.

- Were you close?
- Of course. He was my brother.

We had some great times.
We used to work together.

We had some great days
working together.

- How many years between you?
- Just one year. That's all.

He was only one year older than me.

We built this house together.

Just the two of us
without anybody's money or help.

Just the two of us.

I visited him at the hospital
every day after work.

Every single day.

He really suffered. He was in the
hospital for a year and four months.

- Did you cry?
- He's my brother. What do you think?

I cry every time I think about him.
He's my brother. Of course I cry.

- You still think about him?
- Sure, I'll never forget him.

It was when the Lebanese army were trying to enter Ain El-Helweh in the early 90’s.

Jamal went out to protect our neighborhood and was shot in the throat by a sniper.

He spent sixteen months in hospital, fighting to stay alive.

One day, coming home from school in Denmark, my mother told me that her uncle Jamal had stopped fighting. He was 23 years old.

When I was a kid, Jamal was the bravest man I knew alive.

He was like our Palestinian Rambo

Most children in Ain El-Helweh believed that Jamal, a one-man army, would one day liberate Palestine.

- What's this?
- Just a bunch of graves.

The graves of the martyrs, the people
who fought and died for Palestine.

He was my friend ... Anis Khader.

He was killed in 2004.

His brother is buried here too.

I hate those islamist
Jund al-Sham guys.

I'm just waiting for the right moment
before I fucking strike back.

And believe me, they'll pay.
There's still blood between us.

Look at that guy.
It's as if he's asleep.

I want to go on a mission
and blow myself up, man.

I bet most of the guys who blew
themselves up felt the same way I do.

No future, no work, no education ...

No nothing ...

I'm convinced that's why
they blew themselves up.

They just used Palestine as an excuse
to end their lives.

Jerusalem
1997

In 1997, I became the first member of my family to visit Palestine.

The Israeli student group in my high school had an exchange programme with Israel.

My parents were ecstatic.

They told all our friends that their son was returning to the homeland.

We visited “Yad Vashem” the world’s largest holocaust museum.

I felt like an outsider, like the only one who couldn’t connect.

As a kid growing up in Dubai, I remember watching Israeli soldiers execute their ‘break their bone’ policy.

At Yad Vashim, that’s all I could think of.

I left my classmates and travelled north to visit my relatives in Saffouri

These are the fields of Saffouri

They showed me where my grandparents were born.

I drove around with my cousins.

Here I’m sending greetings to my mother, telling her how excited I am.

Look, Mom!
Just look at this ...

I rejoined my classmates in the Negev desert and was back with my Israeli host.

- Well, what do you want me to say?
- I dunno, say that you're enjoying it here.

I'm not enjoying being here, I hate this place.
It's like, you know… boring and stuff.

- Here?
- yeah.. nah man I love it, it's a very beautiful country.

The whole thing was so confusing.
I felt like I was visiting someone else’s homeland.

- Come on. This is really boring.
- It's for my parents, you know.

- So who's buried here?
- David Ben-Gurion.

Leader of the Zionist movement
in Palestine.

Standing there, I remembered Ben Gurion’s words about the exiled Palestinians.

That one day “The old will die and the young will forget.”

But how could I possibly forget?

To me, Palestine – whatever that is – was somewhere in Ain el-Helweh

This is your grandmother's grave,
may she rest in peace.

This is it.
Salima Mohammed Abu Salem.

Born in 1936 in Saffouri, Palestine.
Died August 24th 2008.

- Hi!
- Welcome.

- How are you?
- God bless you, son.

- Where's Grandma?
- Is that you?

Just give me a second
to put my scarf on.

My grandmother’s biggest wish was to spend her last years close to her children.

She tried to convince granddad to move to Europe, but he always opposed the idea.

If we end up going to Europe
we'll choose Denmark.

If we ever go -

- we'd have to put wheels on the house
and pull it all the way to Denmark.

It's my life's work. If I leave it
people might rob it or mess with it.

I guess to him, leaving the camp would mean abandoning his right to return.

And in the end, Grandma’s wish never came true.

I don't know if I'll ever
see my children again.

Only God knows
how much time I've got left.

Let me take a picture
of you two together.

That's it.
It's much nicer that way.

- Got it?
- Yes.

- I never look good on video.
- Sure you do. You're the prettiest.

No, I'm not.
I'm old and all worn out.

- What did he say?
- They found someone else for the job.

So I handed in my Fatah ID,
quit and left straight away.

- Just like that? No way!
- I swear.

- Why did you hand in your ID?
- Screw those motherfuckers, man.

- But the ID ...
- I don't need it.

- He can't just take your ID.
- I don't give a shit.

We'll go to the military leadership.

Hey, man. What's up?
Fuck you!

- Don't tell that guy anything.
- That motherfucker!

Fuck Palestine and all that shit.

Okay, sweetie ...

If I was you I'd go down there
right now and set things straight.

I telling you as a friend, man.

Go down there right now
and insist on it.

Forget it, man.
I quit Fatah. It's all over.

- We need to get his ID back.
- I don't want it.

Forget it ...
Give Bilal the assignment.

Are you thinking of leaving Lebanon?

Where would I go if I leave?

Where would I go?

Nothing is ever easy in our lives.
Everything has to be hard.

I was born in this fucking country
but they treat us like shit.

It's so despicable, man.

We're not allowed to work at all,
not even if you have a college degree.

Can you imagine how that feels?

Have you ever heard
of something so despicable?

And they say it's a democratic country
What the hell are they talking about?

- What's that?
- Get lost.

Come on in.

Not you, get lost.
Come on in, Mahdi.

Eight, nine, ten ...

Eleven ... and twelve.

Come on, Said.
I need a shot of you looking up.

- Up where?
- At the flying pigeons.

- What for?
- It's for the film.

- I guess I lost my touch.
- No, do it again.

I forgot how.

Nope. Can't do it any longer.

Shame on you kids!

You should be ashamed.
I'm having a nervous breakdown here.

What's wrong with you?

Get out of here, all of you!

Get the hell out of here,
the lot of you!

It wasn't me.
Don't touch me.

- Let me be ...
- May God never let you be!

- Take it easy. Did you see the doctor?
- I told you already.

I'm sick. I feel miserable.

They're driving me nuts
with that football, those damn kids.

And you just
stand around and film them.

- Where were you?
- At the doctor's.

What's wrong?
What did he say?

I'm not feeling well, son.
I'm falling apart.

- Isn't that obvious?
- What's wrong?

I've got nothing more to say.

- Did the doctor say you're okay?
- Leave me alone.

He gave me medicine.
What does it look like I'm doing here?

World Cup Final
2010

We'd almost forgotten about the World Cup cause
none of our teams made it to the final.

But we decided to watch it anyway
Jut for old time's sake.

- Did you tell your parents?
- No, and promise not to tell anyone.

Swear on it.

Everybody thinks
I'm going to the Bekaa to work.

Let them think
I'm in the Bekaa -

- until I'm good and ready to call
and let them know where I am.

- How will you travel?
- Across the border to Syria.

Then with smugglers
from Syria to Turkey -

- then on from Turkey
via an island to Greece.

It'll be a crazy adventure.
A once in a lifetime experience.

- How will you make it?
- I'll make it. Don't worry about me.

You got out of here and now live
in England all settled down and comfy.

Should I keep pretending everything
is fine and stay in this place?

I'd kill myself, man.
I'm suffocating here.

But why so suddenly?
I don't get it.

Listen, Mahdi. We are refugees.

We don't have a country of our own.

If this was our country I could
put up with it and get a life here.

I could find work
in the police or the army.

But fuck ... We're nothing here.

We're just refugees
with no country, no land.

Go liberate Palestine from the Israelis
if that's what you want to do.

You expect me to do that?

How's it going?

Fuck you ...

- Who's that?
- Some motherfucker.

Fuck this country, man.

It's a fucked up country.
They don't deserve a damn.

Not even your film.

- So long ...
- Give me a call before you leave.

I didn’t see Abu Eyad after that.
And in fact that was the last I saw of him that summer.

I guess he was nick-named Abu Eyad for a reason;
It turned out that no one knew about his plan to leave.

He’d been planning it all along, but had waited until now.

He said he didn’t want to spoil the world cup for me.

Every summer, when my holiday was over, I was the one who would say my goodbye’s and leave

In a way, I was glad I didn’t have to do that this time.

- Just one, Granddad.
- What? That's not near enough.

- That's way too much.
- No, it's not even enough.

I'll put in some milk.
It tastes better that way.

I've got powdered milk.

- That's plenty, thanks.
- How can this be too much, son?

Tell me if it's not sweet enough.

Praise God ...

Is it sweet enough for you?

It's very sweet.

You're even sweeter.

- Oh, God ...
- I'll miss you, Granddad.

God bless you.
Are you leaving at seven or eight?

Eight ...

Said ...

- What do you want?
- Are you up yet? It's almost eight.

- Did you oversleep?
- Get lost!

My goodness ...

What's that all about?
Mahdi is leaving. Come on over.

I'm on my way.

- Is Mahdi with you?
- Yes, he's here.

Mahdi is right here ...
May God bless all of us.

- What was that?
- He said 'get lost'.

That's just the way he is.

May God bless ...

- Granddad says you overslept.
- Yeah ...

- Well, so long then.
- Goodbye, son. Safe journey.

- Yeah, get lost.
- Goodbye, Said.

Give us a kiss ...

Bye, Granddad.
Hope to see you soon.

- You two take care of each other now.
- He should be taking care of me!

- Goodbye, everybody.
- Bye ...

And switch that damn camera off. You've
been filming ever since you got here.

Back in London, I find myself going through old recordings of historical Palestine.

One day, I discovered a film with David Ben Gurion, 80 years old, retired and working on his farm in the Negev desert.

I began to imagine my grandfather, working on his own farm in some quite part of Palestine.

Maybe I would have spent my summers in the hills of Saffouri instead of Ain el-Helweh.

For years, I felt trapped in a maze of memories.

Maybe this was meant to be a never-ending-project that my father had passed on to me?

It dawned on me that the reason I’ve been so obsessed with filming Ain elSaffouriHelweh, was more than just to keep a record of my family history.

It was a faint hope that I could protect a sense of belonging to somewhere.

While trying to make sense of all this, I began to look for my friend.

- Hello? Abu Eyad?
- Yeah ...

- It's Mahdi.
- Mahdi. How are you?

Abu Eyad made it to Greece. He continued his journey on foot hoping to arrive in France.

He was caught in the Serbian mountains and imprisoned for 3 months in Belgrade.

On his release they sent him back to Athens.

He spent a year living on the streets with other other Palestinian refugees.

Athens, Greece
September 2011

I went to see him the following summer, but as I arrived most of the guys he was staying with were being deported.

- See you in Ain el-Helweh.
- God willing. Safe journey, my friend.

So what now, Abu Eyad?

Abu Eyad ... What now?

Two days later the Greek authorities put Abu Eyad on a flight back to Lebanon

He is now back in Ain el-Helweh