You see them on the streets in Hamra and Ashrafieh, well
actually you see them everywhere. Most of the time they’re non-existent to the
majority of the people walking by. They are Syrian women and children. The typical sight is usually a woman sitting
on the dirty pavement while her children play on the sidewalk.
She balances a small infant on one arm while reaching out
with the other hand to ask for food or money. Her eyes exuberate desperation
and hopelessness, piercing an image in any onlooker who cares to look down.
The children run around on the sidewalk like it’s only playground
they’ve known. Their dirty feet and worn
out clothing suggests they have been here for days. Living on the streets and
fleeing their country is the only thing they probably know with most of them
being under five.
It’s been a little over a month ago since I’ve arrived in
Beirut, and I have seen these women and children scattered throughout the city.
Their faces are imprinted in my memory. There is no doubt that the Syrian
influx is becoming more than a crisis. While the UNHCR and local non-profits
are providing as much assistance as possible, it still doesn’t meet the demands
nor fix the growing problem. Another thing that doesn’t fix the Syrian refugee
crisis is hatred and resentment in the air.
It didn’t take me long to witness the discrimination and
hatred expressed by Lebanese directed towards Syrians. I was with a taxi driver
who didn’t pick up a man because he was Syrian. On Eid al- Ahda, I was walking
with someone who said shut up to a boy and girl asking for money and then
continued to call them liars. These are just a few of the times when resentment
is expressed instead of compassion.
Since the conflict, 715,212 refugees have registered with
the UNHCR, but the government suggests there around a million. In a country
with a poor economy and a lack of infrastructure and space to fit its own
people, I can understand why the Lebanese have some bitter feelings toward the
refugees. It would be hard living in a
country where the population increased by 20 percent.
According Roberta Russo, spokeswoman for the UNHCR, she says
that they register around 3,000 refugees a day between the four locations
located in Tyre, Zahle, Tripoli and in Beirut.
“Shelter is a big problem because in Lebanon, differently
than other countries, we don’t have established camps. The government is
reluctant to allow us to set up official camps,” said Russo.
Little space leaves little options for accommodations so
most seek shelter under makeshift tents or awnings of a building. I’ve talked
to some Lebanese who are concerned over the Syrians taking their jobs in a
country where there are not many jobs to begin with. But in reality, the jobs
Syrians take are not the jobs that most Lebanese would be doing such as picking
up the garbage in an unattractive green jump suit or being covered in dust from
a construction job. I compare this to when Americans worry over the current immigration
issue. The jobs immigrants take—the farming and in the food sector are also
ones most Americans probably wouldn’t do.
I hear from friends and strangers that the Lebanese
resentment towards the Syrians stems from the bitterness festered from the
Syrian occupation during the war. While it’s nothing to make light of, it
shouldn’t be used as a reason to make a generalized view about a group of
people who had no choice in their government’s foreign policy plans. After
September 11th, there was a stereotype that every Muslim was a terrorist. This view is still present in the minds of
some and when negative views exist in society, it becomes a mindset passed onto
generations.
As human beings, we have an inclination to help others in
dire situations. But why are those inclinations halted at the difference in
religion or nationality? It’s so easy to just say, “well it’s the refugees’
problem to deal with or I have enough problems of my own”, but the easy way out
won’t lessen the impact of the civil war on either the Syrians or the Lebanese.
The ones who are often forgotten are the children. When we walk by them on the
street polishing a rich man’s shoes or sitting on the grimy sidewalk, we should
look at this as a consequence of the war. These are children who should be
sitting at a desk in a classroom learning instead of working 12 hours a day to
only make 5,000 liras.
Last week, I visited the UN registration center in El-Jnah.
I spoke with a woman named Razane who had four kids under the age of 12 with
the youngest being two years old. Her
husband can’t find work since leaving Syria a year ago.
“They desperately need to go to school, but they can’t
because of financial reasons,” said Razane. “My kids are the ones who are
suffering and so will their future. They haven’t been in school for two years.”
The war’s effects are seen on the faces of the children who
have lived through the fleeing and relocation to only come to a country where
their life is still unstable. But we can do something about it. There are many
NGO’s working on the ground to help deliver food and supplies to refugees as
well as those working directly in the camps.
Organizations like Save the Children and the Red Cross are always
looking for volunteers and donations. Local church groups and student
organizations are collecting winter clothes and other basic supplies.
Unfortunately, the conflict doesn’t look like it’s going to
be over any time soon.
The Lebanese government doesn’t have any plans in place
to respond to the number of refugees coming into the country by the end of the
year. But you and I can make a plan to help them, one person at a time. The
next you pass someone on the street, don’t scowl, instead fill his or her
stomach with food. The next time you have a spare hour, find a place to tutor
children. If the situation was reversed, wouldn’t you want the same treatment?
Article & Photos by:
Kaylyn Hlavaty is currently a freelance journalist. She received a Bachelor's
degree of Journalism from the E.W. Scripps School of Journalism at Ohio
University in May 2013. She also
has a minor in political science from Ohio University.