Jerusalemite physician Salim Anati—a Palestinian refugee—took Jerusalem. Story on a remarkable tour through Shu‘fat refugee camp’s alleyways before our interview about the impact of the departure of the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA). The conversation was filled with pain over the bitter reality in the camp, especially after Israel closed UNRWA’s institutions, and longing for his native city of Lod (Lydda in Arabic), from which his parents were displaced in 1948. To this day, Anati holds the keys to the main entrance and all the rooms of their home.

The tour began in front of the health center where he worked as a general practitioner for many years. There, we noticed many passersby greeting the doctor and asking him the same questions: When will the clinic reopen? Will it reopen at all?

He had no answers for them: Israel forced UNRWA to end its support of the clinic. The expression on his face was one of hurt and frustration.

From the clinic, we moved on to the UNRWA school complex, and then to the waste collection site where garbage sits before being transferred outside the camp. Later, we walked through alleys that shape the narrow gray neighborhoods, electrical wires tangled above them and water pipes installed every which way along their walls.

This is the neighborhood of the Lyddawis (those displaced from the city of Lydda in 1948), where Anati grew up. In that direction is the neighborhood of al-Walaja (those displaced from the southern Jerusalem-area village of al-Walaja). Over there is the neighborhood of al-Thawala (those displaced from the village of Bayt Thul). And there stands the Separation Wall that has suffocated the camp and cut children off from the woodlands that were once their only outlet, just below the nearby Pisgat Ze'ev, an encroaching illegal Israeli Jewish settlement.

The tour was rich in information but psychologically exhausting. We wondered often how much endurance a human being must possess to live in such ongoing tragedy.

According to a 2022 UNRWA fact sheet shared by Dr. Anati, the agency established Shu‘fat refugee camp in 1965, at the request of the Jordanian government, to provide housing for around 500 refugee families who had been living in overcrowded conditions in Jerusalem’s Old City.

The camp was built on an area not larger than 0.203 square kilometers, and its population density is extremely high. Today, there are around 16,329 registered Palestinian refugees residing in Shu‘fat refugee camp, although the agency estimates the actual population to be much higher. Because Palestinians must prove that Jerusalem is their “center of life” to maintain their legal status of Israeli permanent residents (see Precarious Status), required in order to live and work in the city, there are perhaps thousands of people with uncertain or unknown status who’ make the camp their home.

Dr. Anati estimated that approximately 130,000 people live in the camp and its five neighborhoods—Ras Khamis, Ras Shehadeh, Dahiyat al-Awqaf, Dahiyat al-Salam, and Dahiyat al-Horsh, in addition to the adjacent town of Anata—all forming one geographic expanse straddling the eastern boundary of East Jerusalem (see Neighborhoods beyond the Wall).

After 1967 and Israel’s occupation of the entire West Bank, including East Jerusalem, Israel annexed the camp and the surrounding neighborhoods into the municipal boundaries of Jerusalem in violation of international law (see What Is Jerusalem?). In 2005, Israel began building the Separation Wall, which cut residents off from the rest of the city, which had once been the vibrant economic and social heart of the West Bank (see The Separation Wall).

UNRWA’s health center, built in 1964, provided primary healthcare in reproductive health, oral and dental care, infant and childcare and vaccinations, as well as medical examinations, treatment for communicable and non-communicable diseases, counseling, and psychological support.

Before it was forcibly closed in January 2026 by Israeli authorities, the center employed 13 staff members. Every month, 790 patients with non-communicable diseases visited the center, in addition to 1,156 children receiving healthcare services and 89 pregnant women receiving prenatal care.

Over the years, Dr. Anati saw simple and more complex medical cases at the clinic. The following interview shares the details of his life as a refugee, and later as a doctor who carried—and still carries—the concerns of the camp where he grew up, and which later embraced him in his old age.

Jerusalem Story (JS): Please tell us about yourself.

Salim Anati (SA): I am a Palestinian whose roots go back to the Palestinian city of Lydda, but was born far away from it after my family was displaced during the Nakba in 1948.

I was born on May 12, 1960, in Haret al-Sharaf in Jerusalem’s Old City. Five years later, I moved with my family to Shu‘fat camp, after we were expelled from the Old City.

I received my elementary and middle school education at the UNRWA Boys’ School in Shu‘fat camp, then moved to the Old City and completed my secondary education at Dar al-Aytam al-Islamiyya School there.

I began studying medicine and general surgery at the University of Craiova in Romania in 1979. I lived there for seven years and returned to Jerusalem in 1985. I trained for one year at al-Makassed Hospital in Jerusalem, later obtaining my medical license from the Jordanian Medical Association and working as a physician at the Greek Catholic Annunciation Society in the Old City.

Three years later, I moved to work at the UNRWA clinic in Shu‘fat camp, where I stayed for another three years, starting in 1989. Then I returned to work at the Annunciation Society until 2009, after which I returned once again to work at the agency clinic in the camp until I retired in 2023.

When the First Intifada broke out, I was unmarried and living in the camp. I was the only doctor present there around the clock, because the clinic doctor at the time finished his shift at 2:00 p.m. I felt it was my religious, national, patriotic, and humanitarian duty to serve my people and my community in the camp. My father wanted me to help all its residents without financial compensation.

I remember one night during the First Intifada when a raid on the camp left many injuries. That night, I treated 100 injured people with very limited resources, either at home or in the homes of the wounded.

The army’s policy was to impose curfews during incursions. Nevertheless, I would go out and tell them I was a doctor and needed to reach patients’ homes to treat them. They would insist that I not treat any wounded individuals [only those with illness], so I treated them secretly. I was summoned for interrogation more than once to provide information about the wounded. One investigator told me that I could leave and live somewhere else in comfortable financial conditions far from the camp, but I refused to leave Shu‘fat camp.

JS: What oral history did your parents and grandparents pass on to you about the Nakba and their journey into exile?

SA: My parents suffered terribly during the Nakba. They came from the city of Lydda to Ramallah on foot, walking barefoot until they reached the village of Ni‘lin, where the villagers expelled them and accused them of having sold their land and country.

The family stayed under the trees for a short period in difficult material and emotional circumstances, then decided to continue toward Jerusalem’s Old City, because they had relatives there. They lived in al-Sharaf Quarter, where I was born, before we were forcibly moved to Shu‘fat camp.

JS: How has the camp changed since you were a child?

JS: How would you describe daily life in the camp now under the closure, with the Separation Wall and the military checkpoint at the entrance to the camp?

SA: Things have become much worse, especially after the wall was built around the camp. This created social, economic, and political pressures and burdens on the residents. Currently, the population density is extremely high, because the average birth rate among families is 7.4 children. Seventy percent of the camp’s population is under the age of 18.

After the 1967 War, refugees in the camp depended entirely on services provided by the agency [UNRWA], from healthcare to education to the food aid each family received monthly according to the number of family members.

In the late 1970s, food aid distribution stopped because of the immense pressure and high population density. Since then and until today, the camp has continued to expand chaotically, violations have increased, and vertical construction has appeared due to the impossibility of horizontal urban expansion.

JS: What were the most significant changes after the construction of the Separation Wall?

SA: Tall buildings appeared, constructed without planning or regulation, resulting in chaos without oversight. This is because building and living behind the wall are cheaper than life inside it [towards the Jerusalem city center]. The camp looks the way it does today because of people’s need to expand, in the absence of alternatives and due to the difficulty of obtaining the necessary construction permits.

JS: What is your medical specialization, and under what title did you work at the UNRWA clinic?

SA: I am a general practitioner, and I worked for the agency under that title. Two years after joining the clinic, I became the administrative and medical director.

JS: What services did the UNRWA health center provide, and what did the camp lose after its closure?

SA: The health center staff included a doctor, nursing staff, a laboratory technician, and a pharmacist. Recently, another doctor joined to assist me.

The doctor at the health center covered all specialties, from dermatology to venereal and respiratory diseases and the health of pregnant women and their fetuses. I remember that in the past we used to hear the fetus’s heartbeat using a medical tool called a Pinard horn, which we colloquially call a “qumu‘” (funnel).

I did not limit myself to treating patients inside the clinic. I would organize visitations inside the camp and supervise sanitary workers to ensure a healthy environment. I also organized school visits to conduct workshops on school health.

The camp lost a great deal after the closure of this clinic, and its residents lost their healthcare destination. They became deeply unsettled. Many families can no longer obtain vaccinations for their children. Families carrying the green Palestinian West Bank ID went to neighboring ‘Anata to obtain vaccinations, while families carrying the blue Israeli ID—which classifies them as Jerusalem residents rather than citizens—went to maternal and child health centers or to the Palestinian Red Crescent headquarters. It is a difficult journey because of the military checkpoint at the entrance to the camp.

I am pained by the situation of elderly people with chronic diseases like diabetes, hypertension, and heart disease. We had files for around 800 patients in this category. They used to visit the clinic monthly for examinations, follow-ups, and to receive free medication. We used to organize awareness and counseling workshops, healthy nutrition days, and recreational activities.

JS: How do you feel now after the closure of the place where you practiced your profession for such a long time?

SA: Emotionally, I was deeply affected and sometimes wept because I was close to the people and dealt with them as one of them, not merely as a treating physician. I felt I had lost something very important in my life. Even after my retirement, the clinic remained the place where I launched initiatives to help and serve needy people in the camp through the Jerusalem Society for Rehabilitation and Special Education.

I have never known surrender. During the labor strikes that paralyzed UNRWA institutions, I was the only person allowed to transport medicine from the clinic pharmacy to distribute it to chronic disease patients in the camp, on my own initiative and with approval from the [UNRWA] administration in Sheikh Jarrah [headquarters].

The agency fell short in many matters and has not met the needs and demands of refugees in general, and the refugees of Shu‘fat camp in particular. Many services were denied to residents because of budget shortages or the absence of support. But we were vigilant and insisted on keeping UNRWA operating in the camp, because it is a symbol of the Nakba, the right of return, and the Palestinian cause. Even now, we remain in contact with UNRWA and demand its intervention.

JS: What has the Israeli-run Jerusalem municipality done to compensate for the services that came to a halt after the Knesset, the Israeli parliament, passed two laws banning UNRWA activities?

SA: The municipality began numbering and naming houses and streets and paved the main road leading to the military checkpoint. All the sanitation workers who used to work for UNRWA were dismissed, and waste collection and transportation were handed over to contractors working with the municipality.

The municipality also began building a school to absorb the camp’s students, located immediately to the left after exiting the military checkpoint toward the city center, [and it] imposed the “arnona” tax in the camp in exchange for the services it “provides” to residents. [Author's note: The construction of the school was still in its earliest stages during our site visit, so children who continued their schooling would have no option but to attend a school outside the camp for now, meaning they have to pass the congested military checkpoint twice each day. Most families in the camp cannot afford the tuition of private school, so they would likely have no choice but to send their children to Israeli municipal schools where the Israeli curriculum is taught. It is not know how many children have dropped out rather than deal with the checkpoint daily.]

JS: If nothing more is done to compensate for the vital services once provided by UNRWA, what do you think could happen?

SA: Destruction in every sense of the word—health, environmental, and social destruction. The consequences of the closure of UNRWA institutions are already being felt in the camp.

For example, UNRWA had small vehicles that used to roam the narrow alleys to collect waste. But the teams now operating in cooperation with the municipality have neither the experience nor the methods of the agency, which knew every street and alley. Last winter, the streets flooded after rainfall because the drains were blocked, and no one cared to open or inspect them before the winter season began.

UNRWA had teams that conducted home visits to assess refugees’ needs as part of its work with the local community. Through these visits, homes were renovated and adapted to suit the needs of disabled residents. Today, no one fills this vital role after its services were forcibly halted.

JS: Tell us about the health situation inside the camp. Is there an increase in chronic diseases, and if so, what are the reasons for this rise?

SA: Yes, chronic diseases have increased because of the spread of what I call “commercial shops” (by which I mean the branches of Israeli health centers or Kupat Holim scattered throughout the camp’s neighborhoods).

At the UNRWA health clinic, we did not deal with the patient as an isolated individual, but as part of a family with a family medical history. We studied this history and intervened early with all family members before disease became an established reality, through a UNRWA program called “Family Health.”

Currently, in these Israeli “shops,” they only deal with the immediate symptoms a person is suffering without considering the family’s medical history. The field visits we used to organize as the staff of an UNRWA clinic are now also non-existent. We even visited families where a member suffered from psychological disorders or illnesses, held evaluation sessions, supported the family, and created treatment plans.

JS: To what extent do psychological pressures and repeated military raids impact the physical and mental health of residents?

SA: They have an enormous effect. All the camp residents are burdened and miserable. They have reached advanced stages of depression, frustration, and despair, with no glimmer of hope. Wherever you turn, you find only tragedies.

Even when someone tries to console them, they respond with the question: “Why should I live?”

JS: Children in the camp are subjected to near-daily raids from the Israeli military. What are the most prominent psychological and behavioral symptoms you notice among them?

SA: The violence they experience and are subjected to from Israeli forces raiding the camp is now reflected in their behavior, and they reproduce what they experience onto others. They hit and hurt one another.

Bedwetting, nightmares, sleep disorders, and abnormal behavior are all symptoms suffered by children here. That’s in addition to the excessive fear whenever they hear that the army raided the camp, which sends them into fits of crying and panic as they rush to hide.

JS: How has the military checkpoint affected movement, work, education, and social relations for camp residents?

SA: All the effects are negative. Problems in the camp have increased, and unemployment has risen over the past eight years, because many young men avoid going to work because they are forced to pass through the military checkpoint where they may face humiliation, searches, beatings, or all three together. In the best-case scenario, the soldiers tell the person, “Go back—you cannot pass to Jerusalem.” Everything depends on their mood.

JS: How would you describe the situation in the camp now?

SA: The situation is tragic, and the camp is in a state of boiling tension. Shu‘fat camp was a hotspot in every uprising and escalation, and I fear that a new uprising may emerge from it in the future because of the pressures under which people are suffering.

Imagine a 16-year-old boy who goes to the checkpoint only to be beaten or ordered to return home . . . For how long?

Unfortunately, no one pays attention to this. UNRWA used to be an outlet, providing social and recreational programs, and via its various departments that worked to improve the general atmosphere in the camp. Ramallah is in a deep slumber and is unconcerned with the camp, while Israel’s policy is clear: a relentless effort to erase the refugee issue from our minds and strip us of refugee status.

The clearest evidence is that there used to be a sign at the camp entrance near the checkpoint reading “Shu‘fat [Refugee] Camp.” Recently, this sign was removed and replaced with another reading only “Shu‘fat.”

JS: How would you describe the spirit of solidarity inside the camp despite the harsh conditions?

SA: Solidarity and mutual support still exist. They may have weakened compared to the past, but residents stand by one another, especially the original inhabitants displaced from al-Sharaf Quarter [in the Old City]. Affection and respect are still present.

With political shifts, Israel sought to spread the poison of division and discrimination between refugees and non-refugees. Drug abuse also spread extensively in the camp, especially after the construction of the Separation Wall. We worked with the agency to combat it, but those who used and sold drugs would go and seek protection near the military checkpoint.

JS: In your opinion, what does it mean that refugees in Shu‘fat camp continue to remain and hold onto the camp, despite all the pressures?

SA: It means preserving their right to return to the cities and villages from which they were displaced. It also means refuting a statement made by Israel’s first prime minister, David Ben-Gurion: “The old will die and the young will forget.”

If you ask anyone here, “Where are you from?” no one says they are from the camp. Rather, they say Haifa, Lydda, Ramla, and many other destroyed villages. No one forgets here.