Taken from the Daily Star, Wednesday 16 September 1998

Sixteen years ago today, refugees at Sabra and Chatila woke up to one of the bloodiest chapters in Lebanon's history. Militiamen had stormed the shanty-towns in Beirut's southern suburbs, slaughtering hundreds of civilians in a rampage that would shock the world. Today, few of those who survived remain in the camp. Those who could leave the country have done so. Those who couldn't afford to get out, live in daily reminder of the horrific massacre. The Daily Star's Reem Haddad has been talking to some of the survivors.

A Lesson in Hatred

Mohammed Srour, 35, can never forgive himself for leaving his family behind: It was Thursday at 5.45pm precisely.

-I was sitting on the roof and saw soldiers running in. Their caps were turned to the back. I knew they were attacking the camp. I told my father. He immediately gave me and my brother money and told us to run away. He and my mother and sisters would stay at home. He thought the soldiers would only want the young men. So we ran. I came back on Saturday when the Lebanese army came in. I opened the door. My father's and sister's bodies were crumpled on top of each other. Outside on the streets were piles of bodies, with flies sticking to them. I recognized some of our neighbors. The massacre taught me one thing-hatred. Hatred against the Jews and those who were with them.

I Pretended to be Dead

Nohad Srour, 35, Mohammed's sister, has recurring nightmares and clearly sees one killers' face in her head.

-After my brothers ran off to hide, we went to bed. We never thought they'd come for us. I had two sisters and two younger brothers. I was 16 years old. At 5.40 in the morning, the door was kicked in and soldiers ran into our house. They dragged us out of bed and ordered us to stand against the wall. I carried my little sister and saw my two little brothers sneak off to the bathroom. We were scared. My parents and sisters were screaming. I couldn't scream. I don't know why. One man had his gun pointed at us but he couldn't get himself to shoot. Another soldier said in Arabic: shoot, what are you waiting for?but the man wouldn't. The other one grabbed the gun and told my father to show him his papers. As my father turned to get the papers, the soldiers shot him then turned the gun on us and kept shooting. I was carrying my one-year-old baby sister and she was yelling 'Mama! Mama!' then suddenly nothing. I looked at her and her brain had fallen out her head and down my arm. I looked around and saw that my mother and my older sister were still alive but wounded.

My mother and I could walk but my sister couldn't. We had to leave her lying in blood. I put a jug of water next to her and we ran to get help. For three days she stayed there lying with the corpses.

My two little brothers ran off from the bathroom and we found them later. My sister's still alive but she is paralyzed.