They started killing people. Some were sleeping. They just started entering the houses and killing people at random,” he told, noting that by the third day of the massacre, piles of bodies – some with limbs cut off or otherwise mutilated – had amassed inside the camp.

“I didn’t have any feelings,” Farhat said. “[Over the years] we buried our friends and comrades, bombed into pieces. Eventually you reach a point where you don’t have any feelings.”Memories-preserved-in-the-dark-heart-of-Shatila

A short walk from Farhat’s home, past fumes from piles of burning garbage and tangles of overhead wires that crisscross Shatila’s twisting alleyways, an unmarked mass grave for victims of the massacre sits in an unassuming field. A banner above the site declares: “We will never forget.”

Shatila resident Yahya Zeid, 44, says he visits the cemetery often.

“It’s very important for people to remember their grandparents, the suffering and persecution of their people,” he told . “Many sit down [in the cemetery] and cry because they remember the massacre of their people… No one is allowed not to remember.”

Rami Khouri, a Palestinian author and senior public policy fellow at the American University of Beirut, said it was critical to view the Sabra-Shatila massacre in the broader context of the historical and ongoing traumas suffered by the Palestinians.

“The culture is ingrained and you grow up with it… It’s really the shared trauma of national exile and dispersal and disenfranchisement that defines the Palestinians in exile,” Khouri told . “Until that historical wrong is righted and that trauma is corrected with some kind of political process, whether it includes repatriation, or a Palestinian state, or the right of return, or compensation … the Palestinian identity outside Palestine will continue to be shaped by these things.”

They started killing people. Some were sleeping. They just started entering the houses and killing people at random,” he told , noting that by the third day of the massacre, piles of bodies – some with limbs cut off or otherwise mutilated – had amassed inside the camp.

“I didn’t have any feelings,” Farhat said. “we buried our friends and comrades, bombed into pieces. Eventually you reach a point where you don’t have any feelings.”

A short walk from Farhat’s home, past fumes from piles of burning garbage and tangles of overhead wires that crisscross Shatila’s twisting alleyways, an unmarked mass grave for victims of the massacre sits in an unassuming field. A banner above the site declares: “We will never forget.”

“It’s very important for people to remember their grandparents, the suffering and persecution of their people,” he told . “Many sit down [in the cemetery] and cry because they remember the massacre of their people… No one is allowed not to remember.”

Rami Khouri, a Palestinian author and senior public policy fellow at the American University of Beirut, said it was critical to view the Sabra-Shatila massacre in the broader context of the historical and ongoing traumas suffered by the Palestinians.

“The culture is ingrained and you grow up with it… It’s really the shared trauma of national exile and dispersal and disenfranchisement that defines the Palestinians in exile,” Khouri told . “Until that historical wrong is righted and that trauma is corrected with some kind of political process, whether it includes repatriation, or a Palestinian state, or the right of return, or compensation … the Palestinian identity outside Palestine will continue to be shaped by these things.”