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Photos:
Baha Nababta’s father, Muhammad. A picture of Baha hangs on the wall. Credit: Tali Mayer Published by Haaretz

Hiba Nababta, Baha's widow, with their son. Credit: Tali Mayer Published by Haaretz

Children at the Shoafat refugee camp in Jerusalem. Credit: Tali Mayer Published by Haaretz

Baha Nababta training with the emergency squad he established in Shoafat. Credit: Tali Mayer Published by Haaretz
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Baha Nababta fought to improve life in the Shoafat refugee camp, not hesitating to work with Israeli authorities; hope for change in the squalid neighborhood died with him

By Nir Hasson for Haaretz

Despair comes easily in the Shoafat refugee camp. The camp is a neighborhood in eternally unified Jerusalem, but is locked out of the city behind the separation wall. Its streets are a mélange of narrow, half-paved alleys with no sidewalks, flanked by heaps of burnt or smoking garbage; the residential sections possess the density of a slum in the undeveloped world, devoid of any public facilities, playgrounds or open areas. The camp’s inhabitants are the poorest and most fate-stricken of Jerusalem’s population. Since it was closed off by the separation barrier a decade ago, its situation has only worsened. The Jerusalem Municipality, and with it the other authorities, have all but abandoned Shoafat. Garbage collection is sporadic at best, the infrastructures have collapsed, illegal construction is rampant, armed gangs have taken control and the camp has sunk into violent, ugly anarchy.

It was here that a young local leader sprang up a few years ago. Baha Nababta, who was born in 1985, fought in the public, media and judicial realms to improve the quality of life in this wretched place. He and his associates scored successes. The water-system infrastructure was upgraded, the High Court of Justice addressed the issue of garbage collection in the camp, a local emergency-response team was set up, new roads were paved and activities for youth were initiated.

Fifteen months ago, Nababta’s wife, Hiba, informed him that she was pregnant. The couple already had two little daughters. “He said he knew it would be a boy,” Hiba relates. A few days afterward, late at night, as Nababta was occupied with the building of another road in the camp, a motorbike pulled up next to him, and its driver drew a pistol and fired 10 rounds at him, seven of which struck him. To save time, his friends, knowing that an ambulance would be delayed in arriving, as always, placed him on the back of a vehicle and drove him to the closest checkpoint. There, according to the family, Nababta waited for the ambulance for some time, bleeding to death. He was fully conscious, his friends say, and asked about his daughter Afif. Shortly afterward he was pronounced dead, apparently from loss of blood. His son, born seven months after his father’s murder, is named Baha, in his memory.

Baha Nababta’s killer has not been apprehended. His family is certain that they know who he is and who sent him, and the fact that no one has been arrested in the case is unhinging their lives. They are fearful of their neighbors and are furious at the Jerusalem police for not investigating the crime properly, in their view. The botched investigation is another manifestation of the governmental neglect of the refugee camp.