'We Don't Want to Die Here': Sierra Leone Migrants Trapped in Lebanon

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
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'We Don't Want to Die Here': Sierra Leone Migrants Trapped in Lebanon

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP

When an Israeli airstrike killed her employer and destroyed nearly everything she owned in southern Lebanon, it also crushed Fatima Samuella Tholley's hopes of returning home to Sierra Leone to escape the war.

With a change of clothes stuffed into a plastic bag, the 27-year-old housekeeper told AFP that she and her cousin made their way to the capital Beirut in an ambulance.

Bewildered and terrified, the pair were thrust into the chaos of the bombarded city -- unfamiliar to them apart from the airport where they had arrived months before.

"We don't know today if we will live or not, only God knows," Fatima told AFP via video call, breaking down in tears.
"I have nothing... no passport, no documents," she said.

The cousins have spent days sheltering in the cramped storage room of an empty apartment, which they said was offered to them by a man they had met on their journey.

With no access to TV news and unable to communicate in French or Arabic, they could only watch from their window as the city was pounded by strikes.

The Israeli war on Lebanon since mid-September has killed more than 1,000 people and forced hundreds of thousands more to flee their homes, amid Israeli bombards around the country.

The situation for the country's migrant workers is particularly precarious, as their legal status is often tied to their employer under the "kafala" sponsorship system governing foreign labor.

"When we came here, our madams received our passports, they seized everything until we finished our contract" said 29-year-old Mariatu Musa Tholley, who also works as a housekeeper.

"Now [the bombing] burned everything, even our madams... only we survived".

- 'They left me' -

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon, with the aim of providing emergency travel certificates to those without passports, Kai S. Brima from the foreign affairs ministry told AFP.

The poor west African country has a significant Lebanese community dating back over a century, which is heavily involved in business and trade.

Scores of migrants travel to Lebanon every year, with the aim of paying remittances to support families back home.

"We don't know anything, any information", Mariatu said.

"[Our neighbours] don't open the door for us because they know we are black", she wept.

"We don't want to die here".

Fatima and Mariatu said they had each earned $150 per month, working from 6:00 am until midnight seven days a week.

They said they were rarely allowed out of the house.

AFP contacted four other Sierra Leonean domestic workers by phone, all of whom recounted similar situations of helplessness in Beirut.

Patricia Antwin, 27, came to Lebanon as a housekeeper to support her family in December 2021.

She said she fled her first employer after suffering sexual harassment, leaving her passport behind.

When an airstrike hit the home of her second employer in a southern village, Patricia was left stranded.

"The people I work for, they left me, they left me and went away," she told AFP.

Patricia said a passing driver saw her crying in the street and offered to take her to Beirut.

Like Fatima and Mariatu, she has no money or formal documentation.

"I only came with two clothes in my plastic bag", she said.

- Sleeping on the streets -

Patricia initially slept on the floor of a friend's apartment, but moved to Beirut's waterfront after strikes in the area intensified.

She later found shelter at a Christian school in Jounieh, some 20 kilometres (12 miles) north of the capital.

"We are seeing people moving from one place to another", she said.

"I don't want to lose my life here," she added, explaining she had a child back in Sierra Leone.

Housekeeper Kadij Koroma said she had been sleeping on the streets for almost a week after fleeing to Beirut when she was separated from her employer.

"We don't have a place to sleep, we don't have food, we don't have water," she said, adding that she relied on passers by to provide bread or small change for sustenance.

Kadij said she wasn't sure if her employer was still alive, or if her friends who had also travelled from Sierra Leone to work in Lebanon had survived the bombardment.

"You don't know where to go," she said, "everywhere you go, bomb, everywhere you go, bomb".



Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood

Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood
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Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood

Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood

In eastern Lebanon's city of Baalbek, the Jawhari family gathered around a gaping crater where their home once stood, tears streaming as they tried to make sense of the destruction.

“It is heart-breaking. A heartache that there is no way we will ever recover from,” said Lina Jawhari, her voice breaking as she hugged relatives who came to support the family. “Our world turned upside down in a second.”

The home, which was a gathering place for generations, was reduced to rubble by an Israeli airstrike on Nov. 1, leaving behind shattered memories and twisted fragments of a once-vibrant life.

The family, like thousands of Lebanese, were returning to check on their properties after the US-mediated ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah went into effect early Wednesday.

Intense Israeli airstrikes over the past two months leveled entire neighborhoods in eastern and southern Lebanon, as well as the southern suburbs of Beirut. Nearly 1.2 million people have been displaced.

The airstrikes have left a massive trail of destruction across the country.

A photo of the Jawhari family's home — taken on a phone by Louay Mustafa, Lina’s nephew — is a visual reminder of what had been. As the family sifted through the rubble, each fragment recovered called them to gather around it.

A worn letter sparked a collective cheer, while a photo of their late father triggered sobs. Reda Jawhari had built the house for his family and was a craftsman who left behind a legacy of metalwork. The sisters cried and hoped to find a piece of the mosque-church structure built by their father. Minutes later, they lifted a mangled piece of metal from the debris. They clung to it, determined to preserve a piece of his legacy.

“Different generations were raised with love... Our life was music, dance, dabke (traditional dance). This is what the house is made up of. And suddenly, they destroyed our world. Our world turned upside down in a second. It is inconceivable. It is inconceivable," Lina said.

Despite their determination, the pain of losing their home and the memories tied to it remains raw.

Rouba Jawhari, one of four sisters, had one regret.

“We are sad that we did not take my mom and dad’s photos with us. If only we took the photos,” she said, clutching an ID card and a bag of photos and letters recovered from the rubble. “It didn’t cross our mind. We thought it’s two weeks and we will be back.”

The airstrike that obliterated the Jawhari home came without warning, striking at 1:30 p.m. on what was otherwise an ordinary Friday.

Their neighbor, Ali Wehbe, also lost his home. He had stepped out for food a few minutes before the missile hit and rushed back to find his brother searching for him under the rubble.

“Every brick holds a memory,” he said, gesturing to what remained of his library. “Under every book you would find a story.”