Lebanon’s Economic Crises Affect Fertility Rates

 A pharmacy employee holds a box of medication in Beirut, Lebanon, May 28, 2021. (Reuters)
A pharmacy employee holds a box of medication in Beirut, Lebanon, May 28, 2021. (Reuters)
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Lebanon’s Economic Crises Affect Fertility Rates

 A pharmacy employee holds a box of medication in Beirut, Lebanon, May 28, 2021. (Reuters)
A pharmacy employee holds a box of medication in Beirut, Lebanon, May 28, 2021. (Reuters)

Lebanese mother, Hiyam, in her twenties, preferred to undergo an abortion rather than having a second child in a country torn apart by crises, as she told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Despite what she described as a “rational” decision, she expressed her “deep sadness and fear of violating the Sharia.”

But she continued with a series of questions: “How will we secure milk, diapers, and medicines? How will we be able to afford the expenses of two children? And before all that, in which hospital will I deliver the baby and at what cost?”

While no official statistics indicate the number of abortions currently taking place in Lebanon, as such operations are usually kept secret, Hiyam said that the decision was not easy, and she always hoped that her little daughter would have a brother or sister.

“But a crime that's greater than abortion is to bring a helpless child into a country where we do not know from where the strikes will come,” she added.

Stressing that her doctor advised her not to resort to this option, Hiyam said: “We know more about our financial capabilities, and we can hardly secure milk and diapers for my young daughter... We refuse to be unfair with our two children!”

Lebanon has been rocked by a severe economic collapse since 2019, the worst in decades. Its repercussions did not exclude any aspect of the life of the Lebanese citizens, affecting vital needs of food, water, fuel, medicine and hospitalization.

As a result of this collapse, many Lebanese are reluctant to take the step of having children, fearing that this would increase their daily suffering amid the high prices of the needs of newborns on one hand and the severe shortage of medications and vaccines on the other.

The price of a box of infant formula increased from LBP 12,000 to LBP 100,000, while the price of diapers, according to quality, now ranges from LBP 150,000 to LBP 250,000. With the lifting of government subsidies, the prices of medicine and vaccinations for children, if found, have also soared.

Sabine, 36, who has been married for four years, told Asharq Al-Awsat that her dream of motherhood “may have evaporated with all the crises we are witnessing in Lebanon.”

She said that she got married in 2018, and she and her husband chose to postpone the step of having children for two years to be able to pay off the debts of the wedding ceremony and home furniture and also enjoy life before bearing a great responsibility.

Sabine and her husband are looking for a job in an Arab country or for emigration to a European country “to start a better life and a suitable environment for raising children.”

In remarks to Asharq Al-Awsat, Researcher at Information International Mohammad Shamseddine said that 92,957 childbirths were registered in Lebanon in 2018, compared to 86,584 in 2019. The number continued to decline in 2020 and reached 74,049.

Although the numbers for 2021 are not final yet, Shamseddine expects an additional decrease in the number of births in Lebanon, which he said will not exceed 60,000.

Several reasons led to this decline, he explained, including the outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic and the severe economic crisis.



'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".