Zaatari, a desert camp near Jordan's border with Syria, is home to around 100,000 Syrians who have fled the country to escape the bloody conflict that is now in its third year. The fighting in Syria has forced two million people to leave their homes and seek refuge in neighbouring countries. The dusty tent community, about 12 kilometres (eight miles) from the Syrian border was established in July 2012 hosting some 100 refugee families. Since then, the camp has grown into a sprawling canvas city in the desert, becoming the region's largest camp for Syrian refugees. Kilian Kleinschmidt, who runs Zaatari for the UN refugee agency, wants to turn the chaotic shantytown of 100,000 into a temporary city with local councils, paved streets, parks, an electricity grid and sewage pipes. "That's where people settled on the 29th of July 2012. But what you are seeing here - because these yellow dots, this means houses, this means shelters - it's more sparsely populated here," said Kleinschmidt, pouring over a map of the camp, dotted with children's toys representing different sectors. "Why? Because people, even though we settled them onto that eastern side of the camp, moved gradually there where the attraction is, because that's where we have the business street. It's called the 'Champs Elysees' according to some." Signs of refugees putting down roots are everywhere, just 15 months after Jordan opened the camp. Many tents have been replaced with trailers, with satellite dishes installed on roofs. Refugees have started hundreds of businesses, offering anything from semi-automatic washing machines and haircuts to freshly baked pastries and ground coffee. The camp has three schools, two hospitals and a maternity clinic. But the daily life for the refugees here is still tough. The strong often take from the weak, women fear going to communal bathrooms after dark, sewage runs between pre-fab trailers and boys hustle for pennies carting goods in wheelbarrows instead of going to school. "It's often cold here. Our life is so difficult. We're living in exile while our children are back in Syria. One of my sons is still fighting for freedom in Aleppo right now," said Fatima Bakar, a 73-year-old Syrian refugee living in the camp. Bakar has had both of her legs amputated. "Once I was sitting at home and our roof was hit. I lost both legs in the explosion," she said. Michele Servadei, Deputy Representative of UNICEF in Jordan, said that at first many children did not attend the camp's schools, because their parents were focused on returning to Syria. "Parents were saying, 'we are going to come back very soon to Syria, so we will not see any value in that.' But now the mindset is changing as well," he said. Dalal Abs, a mother of 42 living in the camp, said that despite the circumstances, the refugees desire to return has not changed. "Even though our house in Syria has been destroyed, we are willing to go back and set up a tent in our land. Returning home is our top priority," she said. No refugee owns the land the camp is built on - but they do sell it, especially spots in the downtown market where shop stalls line what the residents call Main Street and Saudi Street. Businesses there are bought and sold for hundreds of dinars. Money gets injected into the camp economy from the cash refugees managed to bring with them, sent to them by relatives or from business partnerships with Jordanians. Camp residents earn money by providing goods and services, from selling homemade pudding to school children to telling fortunes from coffee cups. Refugees have created their own camp economy, but its rules are murky. Gangs of thugs have arisen to control some dealings, including a black market in UN-issued supplies, according to Kleinschmidt. You can license this story through AP Archive: http://www.aparchive.com/metadata/youtube/f9968ac94f75355ff61cd24c953e4812 Find out more about AP Archive: http://www.aparchive.com/HowWeWork

• published: 31 Jul 2015
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