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Last year, Kamal took his eldest son, Hassan, to meet a people smuggler.
去年，卡迈勒带着他的大儿子哈桑去见一个蛇头（组织他人进行偷渡的人）。
Kamal had made up his mind: he had to find a way to get his son, who was 21, out of Shatila refugee camp in southern Beirut, where three generations of his family had now spent their whole lives.
卡迈勒已经下定决心：他必须想办法把21岁的儿子带出贝鲁特南部的夏提拉难民营。夏提拉难民营是他们家三代人度过一生的地方。
“I wanted him to leave not because of the financial situation – thank God we are doing OK – but I sent him away to escape life in this camp,” Kamal told me recently. “There is no future here for the young.”
卡迈勒最近告诉我：“我想让儿子离开，不是因为经济状况——感谢上帝，我们过得还不错——而是为了逃离难民营的生活。年轻人在这里没有未来。”
Kamal, a man in his late 40s, with broad shoulders, an angular jaw and dark curly hair, is a marginally well-to-do businessman within the impoverished confines of Shatila.
卡迈勒，一个40多岁的男人，宽阔的肩膀，棱角分明的下巴，黑色的卷发，是夏提拉贫困地区的一位勉强富裕的商人。
He owns a small shop that sells mobile phones and cosmetics.
他开了一家售卖手机和化妆品的小店。
Even so, to come up with the $5,000 demanded by the smuggler, he had to borrow a hefty sum, in addition to spending all his savings.
即便如此，为了凑齐蛇头要求的5000美元，除了花光所有的积蓄外，他还不得不借了一大笔钱。
Recounting the story, Kamal spoke quickly, jamming sentences together.
卡迈勒讲着这个故事，语速很快，语无伦次。
His face was gaunt and dark circles framed his eyes. He looked exhausted.
他的脸憔悴异常，黑眼圈围绕着双眼。他看上去筋疲力尽。
Hassan set off on his journey to Europe in May 2023.
2023年5月，哈桑开始了他的欧洲之行。
First he flew to Cairo, then he was driven through the desert into Libya.
他先是飞到开罗，然后坐车穿过沙漠进入利比亚。
At that point, Hassan called his father and told him that he and his fellow migrants were being held in a barn, while they waited for the boat to take them across the Mediterranean.
那时，哈桑打电话给他的父亲，告诉他，他和他的移民同伴被关在一个谷仓里，等待船只带他们穿越地中海。
“I called the smuggler and told him to move my son into a hotel and I will pay extra,” Kamal recalled.
卡迈勒回忆说：“我打电话给蛇头，告诉他把我儿子送进酒店，我会付额外的钱。”
After 10 days in the hotel, the smuggler loaded the refugees on to a fishing trawler heading to Italy.
在酒店住了10天后，蛇头把难民装上一艘前往意大利的拖网渔船。
As we talked, Kamal sat with a couple of friends, perched uneasily on small plastic stools in a dark alleyway so narrow that every time a scooter whizzed past, the men had to bring their knees to their chests and turn sideways.
在我们谈话的时候，卡迈勒和几个朋友坐在一条黑暗的小巷里，不安地坐在塑料小凳子上。小巷非常狭窄，每次有摩托车飞驰而过，这些人都不得不把膝盖放在胸前，然后侧过身去。
The sun shone over Beirut, but little light trickled down to where Kamal sat.
阳光照耀着贝鲁特，但卡迈勒坐着的地方却没有一点光线渗透进来。
No walls surround the Shatila refugee camp.
夏提拉难民营周围没有围墙。
No barbed wires, watchtowers or checkpoints, at least not any more, prevent people from entering or leaving.
没有铁丝网、瞭望塔或检查站，至少不再有阻止人们进出的障碍。
But a mix of draconian laws, discrimination and prejudice has ensured that Shatila feels as claustrophobic as any camp enclosed by high concrete walls.
但是，严刑峻法、歧视与偏见使夏提拉像任何被高高的水泥墙包围的难民营一样让人感到幽闭恐怖。
For Kamal, his son’s journey was just another episode in a displacement saga that had begun nearly eight decades ago.
对卡迈勒来说，他儿子的旅程只是80年前开始的流离失所传奇故事中的另一个插曲。
Like his parents before, and his children after, Kamal is a stateless Palestinian refugee whose life has withered away in the alleyways of Shatila.
像过去的父母与往后的孩子一样，卡迈勒是一名无国籍的巴勒斯坦难民，他的生命在夏提拉的小巷里渐渐消逝。
The same was true of the friends seated with Kamal.
和卡迈勒坐在一起的朋友们的生命也是如此。
