Lebanon's Littlest Refugees

By Laura Sheahen

She was 42. She had seven children. She and her family had fled their homeland, Iraq, and were struggling to survive in Lebanon.

She wasn't ready for another baby.

Amal* saw her sister's grown children kidnapped during the Iraq war. In 2005, her own family was threatened. Her husband, beaten by a Shia militia in Iraq because of his brother's support for the Sunnis, suffered a permanent leg injury. They knew things could get worse: "We were afraid for our children," she says.

The family escaped to Syria and then to Lebanon's rural Bekaa Valley, where hundreds of Iraqi refugees live now. With her disabled husband unable to get steady work, Amal and her family could barely keep afloat in a sparsely furnished, unfinished apartment. Then Amal found out she was pregnant, and almost despaired.

But Amal and her family weren't alone. Elyana, a social worker from Caritas—a Catholic Relief Services partner—was there to help. She told Amal that the baby was God's gift to her. Along with providing food and rent help to the family, Caritas paid $600 for the baby's delivery. Amal named her baby girl after the Iraqi town the family fled.

With funding from CRS, the Caritas Lebanon Migrant Center has been helping Iraqi refugees for years. Since the war began, refugees in Lebanon have received food, help with rent, and items like baby food and mattresses. They also receive medical care in a country where most refugees do not have access to public health services.

Now, as Amal cradles her baby in her arms, her other children gather around to look at their tiny sister. "I was a little bit jealous of her at first," says the baby's 11-year-old sister. "But now I like her."

Standing by Families

Amal's newborn daughter has a long road ahead of her, since even babies born in Lebanon are not considered citizens and aren't eligible for many services. But CRS' partners will stand by her family.

Many newborn refugee children in Lebanon are incredibly vulnerable. Their families—uprooted by war or forced by financial reasons to leave their homelands—often find life in their new country nearly as difficult as the life they escaped. Unless you are a Lebanese citizen or find a Lebanese job sponsor, you are not legally allowed to work in Lebanon.

With no work permits and dwindling savings, Iraqi refugees live in small, bare apartments, unable to buy necessities. Migrants from the Philippines and Sri Lanka put in long hours as maids, enduring abuse and sometimes not receiving wages. When the women have small children, even finding the money for diapers can be a struggle.

Desta*, an Ethiopian woman who came to Lebanon to work as a maid, also felt desperate when she learned she was pregnant. Single in a strange country, she considered abortion. Caritas staff persuaded her to keep the baby—a girl who will be born soon. During her pregnancy and after, Desta will live at a shelter funded by CRS. "I may name the baby [after one of the Caritas social workers]," she says.

The shelter is an oasis for mothers who have no other place to go. While many refugees in Lebanon live in apartments with the whole family—father, mother and children—some refugee men and single women are arrested for visa violations and sent to a detention center. Pregnant women and mothers with children are not detained but are referred to the Caritas shelter.

A Place of Peace

During Lebanon's war in the summer of 2006, the shelter housed hundreds of people in its buildings and chapel. Now, about 40 women and children are there. Each woman has her own room, equipped with beds and drawers, for herself and her children. The women share responsibility for the meals, which they make in a large, bright kitchen. Tucked away in Lebanon's mountains, the shelter has a garden and a large yard where kids can run and play. Brightly colored pictures they've drawn with crayons line the walls of the shelter rooms. All the children at the shelter go to school, with Caritas paying for tuition, fees and school supplies.

Julia* came to Lebanon in November 2005 and worked as a maid in a Lebanese household. "My madame [employer] took my passport," she says, leaving her in violation of visa regulations. Her husband was sent to the detention center for similar violations. But since she was pregnant, Julia came to the shelter.

Now, her baby boy toddles around the room as she talks about her future. "I want to go back to [my home country]," she says, and a Caritas lawyer is helping her get released from her contract as a maid. Julia doesn't know if she and her husband will stay together. But though she and her small son may be alone in the world, living in the shelter means they have food, a loving community and a place to call home.

Across Lebanon, refugee mothers who need help turn to Caritas. Whether supporting mothers during pregnancy, providing baby food and diapers, or running shelters, CRS' partner is making sure the littlest refugees start life off right.

*Names have been changed for the protection of the refugees.

Laura Sheahen is CRS' regional information officer for Europe and the Middle East. She is based in Cairo.