Lebanon’s Migrant Workers Stuck in Limbo as Thousands Flee Conflict

 Fajima Kamara, 28, from Sierra Leone poses for a picture at a shelter for displaced migrant workers, in Hazmieh, Lebanon October 4, 2024. (Reuters)
Fajima Kamara, 28, from Sierra Leone poses for a picture at a shelter for displaced migrant workers, in Hazmieh, Lebanon October 4, 2024. (Reuters)
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Lebanon’s Migrant Workers Stuck in Limbo as Thousands Flee Conflict

 Fajima Kamara, 28, from Sierra Leone poses for a picture at a shelter for displaced migrant workers, in Hazmieh, Lebanon October 4, 2024. (Reuters)
Fajima Kamara, 28, from Sierra Leone poses for a picture at a shelter for displaced migrant workers, in Hazmieh, Lebanon October 4, 2024. (Reuters)

Migrant worker Fajima Kamara came to Lebanon three years ago from Sierra Leone, but when Israeli jets started pounding her neighborhood with airstrikes last month, her employers left her jobless and homeless.

The 28-year-old mother-of-three had been working as a domestic helper for a Lebanese family in the eastern city of Baalbek, a Hezbollah stronghold.

As a nearly year-long cross-border conflict between Israel and the armed Shiite movement sharply escalated in late September, Kamara's employers sought refuge in Dubai and told her she could not stay in their home while they were away.

Instead, they told her to go and find her "fellow African sisters" in the capital, Beirut, Kamara said.

With her phone and passport still confiscated by her employers and no time to pack, Kamara left Baalbek with nothing but the clothes she was wearing and made her way among the thousands of other displaced people to Beirut, where she hoped to find somewhere to stay.

Turned away by local shelters that were taking in displaced Lebanese, she soon found herself homeless and living on the city streets.

"I slept on the street for two days. Now I have fever," Kamara told Reuters between sneezes.

UN officials said on Friday most of Lebanon's nearly 900 shelters were full, voicing concern for tens of thousands of mostly female, live-in domestic workers being "abandoned" by their employers.

Kamara eventually found refuge at a shelter hurriedly opened by Lebanese volunteers on Oct. 1, but is worried about her future as the conflict intensifies. For now, she hopes to stay on and find another job to avoid having to go home penniless.

About 100 migrant workers and some of their children are staying at the same crowdfunded shelter, sleeping on thin cots on a cement floor and eating on wooden pallets.

Dea Hage-Chahine, who helped lead the project, said she and her team were working around the clock to expand the shelter by adding power generators and a makeshift kitchen.

Their ultimate goal is to help repatriate workers who want to return to their home countries - although most, like Karama, are without a passport.

"For now, for those who told us they want to travel, we initiated the process. For those who want to stay, for now, we have the shelter open for them, providing any needs they require. But we don't know what's next," Hage-Chahine said.

In a country historically wrought by conflict and where a devastating economic crisis has crippled state institutions, grassroots efforts have stepped in across the country to help the displaced.

Lebanese authorities say Israel's escalated offensive has displaced about 1.2 million people - almost a quarter of the population - and killed more than 2,000.



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.”