In the dusty desert of northern Jordan a city has emerged out of the sand.
Two years ago Syrian families began arriving here, fleeing war and persecution in their homeland.
Almost overnight the United Nations (UN) was forced to set up a refugee camp, and what started as a few tents has now grown into a city of about 100,000 people.
Twelve-year-old Dina Hariri was among the first to arrive at the camp with her parents and three siblings.
"Before we left we said we will stay 10 days, or 15, maybe one month at the most. We didn't expect a long stay here," Dina said.
Her family left Syria after Dina's father Abu Diaa and her older brother were among the many imprisoned and tortured by the government of Bashar al-Assad.
"It was indescribable fear. I can't describe the feeling. You're thinking maybe they will come for us now. Or maybe they will come later," Abu Diaa said.
Like many, the Hariri family thought the Assad regime would soon fall and they could return home in a matter of days or weeks. That was two years ago.
They have now become just one family out of 2.8 million Syrians who have fled their homeland in what is the worst refugee crisis the world has seen in over 20 years.
Jordan - where Zaatari camp is - currently hosts 600,000 Syrians. Lebanon has more than 1 million, Turkey 750,000, and Iraq 200,000.
Dina's parents are now doing their best to provide for their children in Zaatari camp, but life here is full of challenges.
Syrians are not allowed to leave without special permission from the Jordanian police, and competition for resources inside is fierce.
From standing in line for bread each morning, to flouting the official camp rules to try to build a suitable shelter - this ordinary middle-class family is shocked by what their lives have become.
"I always heard the word refugee but I never imagined I would be one. I heard of Palestinian refugees, Iraqi refugees but practically speaking, for me to be one? I could never imagine it until it happened," Dina's mother, Samar Hariri said.
In many ways, Zaatari is not what you expect from a refugee camp. Despite attempts by the UN over the past two years to manage and control the facility, Zaatari has developed a life of its own.
Amidst the tents and portable shelters housing 100,000 people, a busy little commercial district has sprung up with shops and people offering all manner of services.
The French military, who helped out here in the early days, dubbed the main street the Champs-Élysées, and today you can buy anything here, from a washing machine to a bridal dress.
UNHCR camp manager Kilian Kleinschmidt, affectionately known as the mayor of Zaatari, says he is amazed at the ingenuity of the camp's residents.
"They do what we may have seen in other places coming in over 20 years, over 10 years. So it's a very fast process," Mr Kleinschmidt, a veteran of crises in the Balkans and Africa said.
"It is unbelievable how fast they have gone - within not even two years of existence of this camp - in setting up their homes and setting up shops, in setting up some form of a new life. It's amazing."
Before Mr Kleinschmidt took charge last year there were frequent stone-throwing protests and even riots in Zaatari, but this straight-talking German has turned things around.
He now meets regularly with camp leaders and is often found strolling around the camp’s makeshift neighbourhoods to hear firsthand the residents' issues and concerns.
The people of Zaatari are a self-sufficient lot – they do not want to beg for aid or have to rely on the world's donations.
When the camp installed electricity pylons and lights to make the streets safer, residents quickly figured out that one wire could lead to another and today nearly every household has a bootlegged electricity connection leeched on the public lighting system.
Last year a newly built police station at the camp literally disappeared overnight as residents decided the bricks would be much better put to use shoring up their own houses.
But no matter how resourceful the Hariri family have been in establishing a home for themselves in the middle of an arid desert camp, they are still haunted by memories of the lives they once had.
"It's a difficult situation. No matter how you talk about it. It's the toughest thing you will ever be faced with in your life," Abu Diaa said.
"We are not begging or asking for their help. We just want them to stop the oppression. Just to spread the truth. About the Syrian people, about the children and about the young people who lost their studies. It's all gone."
To learn more about life inside Zaatari camp tune into Foreign Correspondent on Tuesday at 8.00pm on ABC1
