Questions begin circling in my mind as we penetrate ever deeper into their maze of muddy alley and low-hanging electrical cables. For a moment I turn my face upwards and catch a glimpse of the sky. I observe a flock of pigeons escaping.
Reham arrives with her family from Syria in Shatila. She is ‘ba’id ‘an’ al-Watan’ – far from her home. But like inside the big bag there is a small bag embroidered with the word “Watan” or “home country,’ Reham may live in Shatila but she carries her Watan inside her heart.