Israel is not the first country associated with African refugees, but the small Middle Eastern nation is increasingly being targeted by people fleeing war and persecution in Africa.

It is a developed country, and refugees do not experience the same level of harassment and intimidation as in places like Egypt and Sudan. But life is still difficult for African refugees in Israel.

"They [refugees] get shocked and confused here," says Johanes Lemma Bayu, manager of Tel Aviv's African Refugee Development Centre and himself an Ethiopian refugee. African refugees do not receive any support from the Israeli Government and the UN in Israel is not equipped to provide humanitarian assistance.

In the countries they've come from – mostly Sudan, Egypt and Ethiopia – the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) is at least giving assistance, he says. They approach UNHCR in Israel and expect to be given humanitarian aid, "but it's not their job here, it's the country’s job. They don't get anything, it’s really horrible". . The journey to Israel alone is hazardous. It is usually not the chosen destination for refugees, only the last resort. "You know these are not just fresh refugees coming straight here," Johanes says.

"They have been refugees for many years in Egypt or Sudan – this is a refugee's life. They go one place, if it doesn't work out then they move [to] another place, then another one."

Yassin Musa, a Darfuri community leader in Tel Aviv, was trying to escape the widespread ethnic cleansing in his west Sudanese homeland. "Some of my family [was] killed but some of them displaced and I don't know where they are … I moved from place to place inside Darfur, [always] going to another place and hoping to [be] safe.

"Then I came to Khartoum and it was so difficult because the Government was really against any Darfuri to enter Khartoum. They check who you are, where you are going. You have to register in security office, [but] I was escaping arrest from Darfur. So I decided to leave Khartoum. I then left to Egypt."

Refugees cannot freely enter Israel. They must travel through the inhospitable Sinai Desert, along its border with Egypt, in the hope of evading capture or being killed by the border police.

"You must walk through the Sinai desert, [it] take seven hours and then you come to a big fence," explains Gabriel, an Eritrean man. "You need to jump the fence and [Egyptian soldiers] start shooting."

Some on those fleeing pay thousands of dollars to Bedouin smugglers, who in turn bribe border patrols, hoping to guarantee safe transit into Israel. But many end up dead or in prison. "I see so many get shot [or] they take them to prison in Egypt,' says one Sudanese man.

According to Reuters, 14 people had been killed at the border by 19 June this year.

Many refugees, particularly men, are arrested once they finally enter Israel. Amnesty recently sent a memorandum to the Israeli parliament urging the rejection of a bill that would punish asylum seekers with lengthy jail terms and deportation.

Those who escape imprisonment, often because of overcrowding in prisons, are bused to the southern Israeli city of Be’er Sheva, and then told to head towards the city centre. Some stay in Be’er Sheva, while others move to other cities.

Living conditions in the refuges I visited in Tel Aviv ranged from basic to squalid. The entrance to one, an old air raid shelter under an apartment building, has to be jimmied open because the lock was broken. "Look at this, could you live like this?," Johanes asked. Inside there was a large, cavernous room filled with rubbish and a strong musty smell.

At the Refuge Centre on Har Ziyyon Avenue, one of the largest in Tel Aviv, there are only about 100 beds for 300 people. Every spare corner is lined with mattresses, they are even next to the stairwells. Many are forced to live in public spaces, near the building or in neighbouring Levinsky Park.

Israeli civil society organisations, like Assaf, an NGO created in 2006 by the veteran aid worker Yiftach Millo, are providing the bulk of assistance to African refugees.

"As descendents of refugees who survived the Holocaust in Europe, we have a duty to help these people," Yiftach says. It is a sentiment echoed by other Israeli volunteers I speak to.

Israel may have been founded by refugees, but today the term itself is sensitive. Israeli leaders have long considered the Palestinian refugee issue one of the gravest challenges to the Jewish character of the state. Only last year Prime Minister Olmert described African refugee migration to Israel as a 'tsunami that could grow'.

Until 2005 refugees largely avoided Israel. But on 30 December that year, Egyptian police brutally suppressed a month-long protest by Sudanese and other refugees against living conditions in that country. At least 27 were killed and many more later died of their injuries, either in hospital or prison. Hundreds were injured.

"Egypt was very bad, even sometime I think Sudanese Government is better," Yassin says. "The children [were] locked inside for all the time they were in Egypt. They [were] not able to go to school or even go out to play or smell fresh air."

Children are not the only ones imprisoned. "I was in Egypt for three days, kept in a locked door by smugglers until the day you go to Israel," recalls Gabriel. "I'm lucky to be here, [it is] very dangerous."

Those who are able to escape imprisonment experience extreme prejudice. "[There was] discrimination, abuse at work, everything. So difficult to walk down the street because people follow you in groups shouting 'bunga bunga' or 'black' and if you want to say something you have to be ready to fight big groups."

There are also those who are forcibly returned home by Egyptian authorities. In June this year, Egypt forcibly sent home up to 12,000 Eritrean asylum seekers, says Amnesty International – they fear the asylum seekers are at risk of torture and other ill-treatment.

Every refugee in Israel has his or her own experience of war and persecution. But all of the refugees share a desire for a better, safer life.

"I'm afraid to mention my name," explains a softly spoken Eritrean man, at the Har Ziyyon refuge. "It is dangerous for me and my family back home. I left because of the dictatorship. I escaped to Ethiopia and from there to Sudan and then to Egypt, and [now] Israel. For four years I was traveling, very dangerous.'

Another man, who requested to remain anonymous, made similar remarks. "I am working in a clinic, I make good money. I have my own place to live. I’m not settled, I do not know what will happen in the future. Still I don't fear from anything."