Sriyani är bara en bland många tusen fattiga
unga kvinnor som kom till Libanon med hopp om att
kunna tjäna pengar. Eller snarare, i Sriyanas fall var det
hennes man som skickade iväg henne. Här fick hon
arbeta 18 timmar om dagen för 100 dollar i månaden
på ett treårs kontrakt.
När kriget kom och bomberna började falla
i södra Libanon där Sriyanis familj bodde
övergav de henne. Tog hennes pass och andra
papper med sig innan de låste dörren
utifrån de flydde. Utan att kunna något av de
lokala språken tog hon sig till ett av
Caritas tillfälliga läger. I David
Snyders artikel kan du läsamer.
Migrant Workers Struggle to Evacuate
Lebanon
By David Snyder
Lebanon, 6 August 2006 – On a bustling side street in
central Beirut, three floors above a small green grocery,
Sriyani Disanayaka and 19 other young women are fighting their
own quiet battle in war-torn Lebanon. Sheltering from nightly
air raids, Sriyani and her fellow migrant workers are Sri
Lankan nationals – poor, rural women drawn abroad by the
promise of a working wage, now trapped inside Lebanon.
Like more than 900,000 others displaced by the fighting in
Lebanon, Sriyani and thousands of other domestic workers have
been engulfed by the conflict here. A country with a strong
culture of domestic servitude, where even lower middle-class
families often employ domestic workers, more than 200,000
migrants were living in Lebanon at the outbreak of the war,
many of them from impoverished countries like Egypt, Ethiopia,
and Sri Lanka.
Like Sriyani, many such workers come from poor rural
backgrounds, drawn abroad by the promise of a few dollars a day
working as gardeners, trash collectors or domestic servants.
Most first learned of the opportunity to work abroad through
employment agencies in their local towns, which aggressively
recruit young men and women in many countries around the world.
For Sriyani, the decision to come to Lebanon was made for her
by her husband back in eastern Sri Lanka.
“A girl introduced me to an employment agency
there,” Sriyani said. “My husband sent me here to
earn money.”
Despite rosy promises by such agencies, working conditions
in countries like Lebanon, where migrant labor laws are
non-existent or rarely enforced, are often extremely difficult.
Sriyani works as many as 18 hours a day, earning just $100 each
month, the average for Sri Lankan domestic workers here. Having
signed a three-year contract, Sriyani had been working for a
Lebanese family in the southern suburbs of Beirut, an area
which came under Israeli air attack at the outset of the war.
When the first bombs fell, Sriyani said, her employers fled,
taking with them the passport and documentation she had given
to them upon arriving in Lebanon.
“When the bombs hit our [town], they locked me in the
house and went somewhere else,” Sriyani said. “All
night I was there alone.”
Finally able to escape the house during a lull in the
fighting, Sriyani – who speaks none of the local
languages in Lebanon – made her way to a shelter run by
Caritas Lebanon, a non-governmental organization working in
Lebanon to assist migrants affected by the war. There she
received food, clothing, and much-needed support from social
workers employed by the agency. Housed now in an area of Beirut
largely unaffected by the air raids, Sriyani and the other
migrants with whom she is now living are simply awaiting their
chance to leave the country.
While many governments were able to evacuate their citizens
from Lebanon at the beginning of the war, the Government of Sri
Lanka was overwhelmed by the scale of the crisis. An estimated
80,000 Sri Lankans live in Lebanon, most of them as domestic
workers and many of these left without documentation of any
kind when their employers fled the fighting. Working closely
with the Embassy of Sri Lanka in Beirut, Caritas Lebanon staff
members, including lawyers hired by the agency, are helping to
coordinate all aspects of the repatriation process –
providing shelter and food to those harboring in eight shelters
now set up around the city, and steering migrants through the
application process necessary to acquire documents.
But leaving Lebanon today is a complicated and increasingly
treacherous process. With the airport closed and little if any
ship traffic arriving in the port, the only way out of Lebanon
is through neighboring Syria – an arduous three hour bus
journey to the north. As Israeli air strikes continue, however,
the last main road out of Lebanon is now cut off, forcing bus
drivers to use tenuous mountain roads and doubling the length
of the journey. Some of the buses that leave daily for Syria
have been forced back by the risks of further air strikes,
adding to the tension and fear these young migrant workers
already feel. Though Caritas Lebanon has thus far assisted more
than 4,000 migrants to repatriate, thousands more have sought
refuge in the crowded the embassy compound in Beirut, desperate
to leave the country.
“I came here empty handed, and I am leaving empty
handed,” said Sugandika Samerakoon, another Sri Lankan
migrant trying to leave Lebanon. “I just want to get out
as soon as possible.”
And though 300 to 600 migrants are making it out of the
country each day, the fear and tension that grips those who
remain is increasing. Young, uneducated, and separated from
their families for the first time in their lives, these migrant
workers are not only caught up in a war few of them understand,
but have also seen their dreams of a better life dashed by this
latest Middle East crisis. Their only option now is to
return home to poverty, an option that for many still beats the
alternative of staying in Lebanon as fighting continues. Back
at the shelter, Sriyani summarizes the feelings among all of
those with whom she is now waiting to evacuate.
“I just want to leave now,” Sriyani said.