Three big fat rats cut across the path right in front of my feet, scurrying from one side alley to another, where they leap onto a towering rubbish heap. A thick, dark cloud of flies hovers above it. I shriek. Marwan throws me an angry glance, before looking at my parents with concern. Thankfully they are staring down, trying hard not to slip in this mud. We walk on. I see posters of former camp residents who were killed in the 1982 massacre. And there are many walls covered in graffiti. My eyes fall on a map of Palestine and slogans speaking of a heartfelt desire to return to the homeland. And then there are the flags, all relating to various political factions, including the green Hamas flags, the yellow Fatah ones and the black flags of the Palestinian Islamic Jihad. It dawns on me that the camp must be divided by allegiance to different factions.