Jericho — For a 21-year-old who had never travelled farther than an hour or two from his home in a Jordan Valley refugee camp, Mousa Alem's first day of work at the flashy Oasis Casino was a trip into another dimension.

“Once you were inside, you were in a different world — in Europe, or maybe somewhere else. That was the feeling I had,” said Mr. Alem, now 26, who spent 18 months at the casino before it closed in the fall of 2000.

The casino in this biblical oasis town was an economic lifeboat, providing regular salaries for about 1,600 Palestinian employees during its three years of operation. But the bubble was abruptly popped with the outbreak of the last intifada, or uprising, in September of 2000. With its largely Israeli clientele banned from travelling to the West Bank, the casino was closed before October was out.

Many of the employees, who were put on indefinite layoff, harboured the faint hope that some day the violence would stop and the casino would reopen.

Until, that is, the ascent of a democratically elected Islamic government in the Palestinian Authority's legislature.

“The casino used to be used for things against Islam, such as gambling and drinking alcohol, and taking revenue for such things that go against Islam is unacceptable,” said Ali Romanin, 35, the Hamas parliamentarian for Jericho.

At its height, the casino, a multimillion-dollar project between the Palestinian Authority and Casinos Austria, drew in as many as 3,000 Israelis and foreigners a day for blackjack, poker and slot machines, and made an estimated $1-million a month. Although accusations of corruption swirled, its employees were well paid for the West Bank: A bartender could earn $1,500 (U.S.) a month, with tips; a cleaner, $500.

With the casino came international financing for Jericho to improve roads, install traffic lights and upgrade hospitals. Restaurants and souvenir shops followed, ready to cash in on the crowds of Israelis escaping the gambling ban at home.

“It was great. You could feel the prosperity,” said Mr. Alem, whose father built Sami's Youth House in Aqabat Jabr camp, a few minutes from the casino, for workers who came from around the West Bank to work as dealers, wait staff and cleaners. Today, it is virtually empty.

Palestinians were never allowed to gamble at the casino, but that was okay with Mr. Alem: He, like most of the employees, is Muslim, and was sometimes uncomfortable with the amount of money changing hands and the alcohol being consumed.

And that, said Mr. Romanin, is the reason the casino should not be reopened. “It's true, they used to make high salaries, of $1,000 or $2,000. But any illness that befalls their family, they attribute it to this money, because it's haram [forbidden],” he said.

Still, the draw of a regular paycheque was irresistible in a society where unemployment averages between 20 and 30 per cent. “I don't believe the money from the casino is haram. I worked hard to make it; I didn't gamble with it,” said Mohammed Maharrmeh, 32, a father of three who was a cleaner at the casino and now ekes out a living driving a taxi. “Everybody misses those days because there was good income for people.”

The casino still sits ready to open. Inside, as security and maintenance workers take a break for midday prayers — the direction of Mecca just to the right of a hall full of silent slot machines — the marble floors of the grand lobby still shine brightly. Though the darkened marquee now invites gamblers to “win his grand prize” — its “t” fallen away — the 120 gambling tables and a line of teller windows are still in place.

Security is tight around the building, and the casino's managers say they have been given strict instructions not to speak to the media because of the current political situation. And Saeb Erekat, the remaining Fatah parliamentarian for Jericho, said that between the continuing ban on Israelis travelling to certain parts of the West Bank and the current governing power, the project is as good as dead.

“The people know that the political circumstances are not going to allow this casino to be open,” he said.

Special to The Globe and Mail