How to capture even a fraction of the experiences that I am having? That's a major issue for me these days.

It's difficult to be an international in a refugee camp in Palestine, especially Dheisheh. The number of internationals who have passed through these streets since the camp was forced into existence in late 1948 is immeasurable. On a daily basis you can see photographers, video crews (like the BBC Saturday), and a slew of normal ordinary people who make their way onto the streets, Ibdaa and Dheisheh are listed in the Lonely Planet...

We were walking in the camp, two Americans and one Palestinian with a video camera. The project was simple, how are internationals received in the camp? And what is it like for Internationals working in the camp to walk its streets?

We walked down the streets towards a variety store and a falafel restaurant, Ziad following us with his video camera. Most of the people on the streets just looked at Ziad and greeted him but one old woman began to yell, "Jaram eshara (it is forbidden, the street)." "Why are you here, are you going to use this film to make money for yourselves? And what do we receive back?" I asked Ziad a few minutes later if he knew the woman and he said "No." While all the others of the street knew him and just smiled at the woman who went on yelling at Ziad while he filmed a friend of his in the falafel shop. They knew that we worked with Ibdaa and whether or not they agree with the organization or not, they know that his presence in the camp is not to exploit the media that he creates.

When we walk the streets you see different reactions, everyone is watching us, they have seen a similar sight time and time again, the children run up to say hello in English.

For years the international world has had a presence in Dheisheh, the people have seen Internationals on the streets, doing reports, taking photos, trying to help and yet, if you ask many of them, they haven't seen anything change. So how do they see me as I walk the streets? And how can I seek to not just be another international to really give something back, something that sees something change. I am still struggling with that question.

Today I walked the streets with three women from Ibdaa to take pictures of the women involved in the embroidery project. It was a different experience to walk with women and was my first experience up close and personal with many of the Muslim women in Dheisheh. When we reached each house, we knocked on the door and were greeted warmly. I was usually standing in the back and as the women answered the doors without their hijab (head covering) they ran off to a back room to cover their heads in the presence of a man. In each house we were offered something to drink, usually coffee, children roamed around in the house and on the patios.

One child, after being particularly shy and stone faced in the first few minutes I was with his family, began to smile and even jumped up on one of the walls around his house as we were leaving and yelled, "Tal, Qulyom (come everyday.)" The picture above is of this boy. As we wandered through the streets I got more confidence in speaking with the women and finally by the end was trying out my Arabic and making them laugh. The women here are so strong.

On another note, Ziad said something today that has stuck with me, "I don't know yet what is the meaning of justice, I know what injustice is but I am still struggling with the other."