Published here as part of MAP's Notes from the Field.
Palestinian refugees from Syria in Lebanon: Baraa's story
In the maze of backstreets in a far corner of Ein el-Hilweh, I search with Wafa, MAP’s project assistant, for the home of Mohammad Qassem. Wafa asks some local girls whether they know his house, and we are momentarily diverted down the wrong street. Stopped by a checkpoint, we turn back, side-stepping wet cement, to find the girls running back with excited smiles – word has spread, and the house located. I can see why they had difficulty. Buildings are so densely packed in this section of the camp that the streets are not streets, exactly, but simply the negative space between walls. Discarded building materials lie in enormous dusty piles, along with an abandoned wheelchair, in the alley that leads to their door.
Baraa and her father, Mohammad
We are warmly welcomed in from the chaos of the streets outside, removing our shoes and sitting down on the cushions Mohammad provides. He and his wife Nadia are at home today with their youngest daughter Baraa – her name means innocence – in the one room they share with her five other siblings. Nadia left Sbeinah camp in Syria 7 months ago with her children, and her husband followed recently, arriving in early 2014. They have known since Baraa was a baby that she had a heart problem – a valve was closing up, causing extensive cardiac problems – but she was too young to be operated on. As the situation in Syria worsened, they had to leave Damascus, and as Baraa reached the age of 4, the time for surgery was imminent.
As a recipient of MAP’s tertiary care project, MAP funded 50% of Baraa’s treatment, topping up the other half provided by UNRWA. MAP’s role as a gap-filling organization has huge benefits in this context – these operations are expensive, and even with the cost halved by UNRWA, few refugee families can afford them. 96% of Palestinians in Lebanon rely on the UN and organisations like MAP to facilitate medical aid. Particularly for recent Syrian-Palestinian arrivals in Ein el-Hilweh, less embedded in the camp’s local community, the possibility of fundraising among their neighbours is limited, and without insurance many have to choose between forgoing healthcare and falling into deeper cycles of debt and poverty.
With MAP’s help, Baraa’s operation could take place, and her huge smile was a testament to the surgery’s success – she is now safe and well. It was a pleasure to meet her looking so happy, and her parents so relieved. They expressed to me how deeply felt their gratitude was to MAP and the doctors at the hospital, where she received good care.
Talking more to the family about their lives in Ein el-Hilweh, I can better imagine the strain Baraa’s illness has placed on their situation. Mohammad has been unable to find work in the camp. He is hoping to secure a job as a garbage collector, as he did back in Syria, but for the moment the family is entirely reliant on aid to survive. They are supported by UNRWA, but most of this money is sucked up by the rent – which at 200,000LL (around £83) for one room is very high – and leaves little spare for anything else. Though beautifully clean, a fact Nadia takes pride in, the room is small, and home to a family of 8 people. With other buildings constructed higgledy-piggledy around it, little natural light penetrates, and the walls are damp. Nadia tells us that the doctors have warned them this humidity is bad for Baraa’s heart. They hope to move somewhere larger, and are asking around, but the camp is only getting fuller, and they could not currently afford any increase in rent.
Nadia and Mohammad describe the difficulties of their journeys to Lebanon, and of trouble on the border. Palestinian refugees are systematically discriminated against by Lebanese immigration officials, forced to wait for hours at checkpoints, and are often unable to cross. Mohammad hoped to be in Lebanon for Baraa’s surgery, to wish her well when she went into hospital and be present when she opened her eyes – but he was detained at the border and eventually turned away, forced to make the perilous journey back to Damascus.
Even once within the camp, Palestinian refugees from Syria face discrimination. Nadia says the existing population perceive them as competing for the limited jobs available, and are resentful of the extra resources they believe are being given to newcomers. The family clearly find this upsetting: they tell me ‘we did not want to come, we had to come’. Nadia and Mohammad have local friends and relatives who have also made the journey to Ein el-Hilweh, which has helped. But issues of integration remain. One of their other daughters is also at home – she has learning difficulties and is refusing to attend school. For any child, starting a new school in a new place is a daunting prospect. When combined with a shift in language – school in Syria is taught in Arabic, but school in the Lebanese camps is taught in English – many children will spend this early period of education feeling alienated and unable to learn.
In a society that is overcrowded and under-resourced, the Syrian refugee crisis is putting pressure on everybody. Though almost everyone in the camp shares Palestinian heritage, and silhouettes of Palestine are sprayed on public walls, within these desperate circumstances tensions erupt easily among neighbours, and violence and insecurity are facets of life.