Sawt al Niswa | صوت النسوة - Racism

العاملات الأجنبيات في المصحات النفسية في لبنان: مرض نفسي او تشخيص عنصري؟

Lamia Moghnie — Mon, 24 Jul 2017 11:02:30 +0000

picture published by Anti-Racism movement on april 8th 2017 preceding the migrant workers’ parade in Lebanon on May 1 st

Anti-Racism Movement (ARM)

"دخيلكن ساعدوني ما تخلوهن يجبروني اخد الدوا ويرجعوا يخلصوا مني. ما ح تخلوهن يعملوا هيك، صح؟" هذه الاستغاثة التي وجهتها لنا مارتا منذ حوالي السنة، في آخر لقاء بيننا في دار العجزة، قسم الأمراض النفسية والعصبية. بعدها فقدنا أي أثر لمارتا، وكل محاولاتنا للبحث عنها، باءت بالفشل.

لم يكن يجدر بمارتا أن تكون بهذا القسم من المستشفى، الا أنها الحلقة الأضعف والقرار ليس بيدها، ومصيرها في لبنان يحدد اما من قبل الكفيل أو من قبل مكتب الاستقدام. بعدما دفعها أحد العاملين في المكتب، وتعرضت لضربة قاسية على الرأس وأُدخلت الى قسم الطوارئ في مستشفى المقاصد قرر صاحب المكتب أنّ مارتا مجنونة ويجب إدخالها في قسم الامراض النفسية. فهو عذر كاف ومكان آمن لإخفاء أي أثر لأي ذنب يقترفه هو أو غيره من هذه المكاتب المتفشية في أرجاء هذا البلد.

عند زيارتنا لمارتا، وفي القسم نفسه، التقينا بعاملة أجنبية أخرى كانت تقرأ الانجيل في رواق المستشفى، وأخبرتنا أنها هنا منذ بضعة شهور ولكنها لا تدري سبب وجودها وانها المرة الأولى التي ترى فيها 'لبنانيين' يزورون أجانب في هذا القسم، الذي يشمل أشخاص بمثل حالتها (أو حالات مشابهة لحالتها)، و ينتظرون الخروج بفارغ الصبر.

سمعنا الكثير من المناوشات عبر الهاتف، بين الطبيب الموجود، والطبيب الذي إستلم مارثا من مكتب الاستقدام، و قد تبين أن مارثا لا تحتاج سوى الدخول إلى مستشفى للإعتناء بكدمات رأسها فقط، وأنه بدلا من ذلك ، قد تم إدخالها قسم "المجانين "مقابل مبلغ من المال ، بالرغم من أنها عاقلة وسوية و متزنة.

. وقد كان الطبيب الموجود، وهو الأصغر سنا، مستاءً جداً من الطبيب الذي أدخلها قسما لا يمت لها بصلة، فأسكته الطبيب الأكبر سناً، و طلب منه عدم التدخل في 'ما لا يعنيه'، وأن يركز على عمله وحسب. عمله وحسب؟

منذ سنوات، نشر فيديو لعاملة إثيوبية، عالم دشاسة، تتعرض للضرب في الشارع وتسحل من قبل كفيلها/ صاحب المكتب، وقد جرى ذلك على بعد أمتار من قنصليتها، و على مرأى ملايين الأشخاص الذين حضروا الفيديو وتأثروا كثيراً كونه كان من الفيديوهات الأولى التي عكست كميات الإذلال التي يعيش تحتها مئات آلاف الوافدين للعمل في لبنان.. وطبعاً، لقد لحق ذلك تبريرات أن المشهد ليس كما نراه، فهذه العاملة مريضة نفسيا واالمُشاهد لا يدري ما الذي حصل فعلا. كل كل ذلك حصل، قبل إسبوع من أن لقيت 'عالم' حتفها في المصح العقلي التي أودعت به بعد هذا الفيديو. من المعلوم والمتداول، أن العذر المعتمد للإعفاء من المسؤولية و صد وإسكات أحدهم، تحديداً النساء كما جرت العادة، هو اتهامهن بأنهن مصابات بالجنون أو المبالغة أو كثرة الحساسية والهلوسة. عشرات من العاملات الأجانب يرمين في المصحات النفسية للحجة نفسها. وهنا لا ندعي أن جميع العاملات لا يعانين من أمراض نفسية، فمن لا يعاني من مئات الأمراض المكدّسة جراء هذه الظروف الاستعبادية. ولكن لننظر للموضوع من زاوية أخرى ولنسأل أنفسنا، لماذا يسوء قطاع الصحة النفسية للعاملات؟ وما الذي يؤدي بهن الى مثل هذه الحالات؟ لماذا ينتحر عدد كبير منهن، بطريقة مستمرة ومتزايدة منذ سنين طويلة؟ ما القاسم المشترك بين كل هذه المجنونات، السريلانكيات، والفلبينيات، والبنغلادشيات، والنيباليات، والاثيوبيات، اللوات يرمين بأجسادهن، النحيلة جداً بمعظم الحالات، من على شرفات بيروت وضواحيها إسبوعياً، أو يومياً؟ أهي هواية مشتركة للفقيرات ذوي البشرات الداكنة يا ترى؟ اهو مرض نفسي مشترك بينهنّ علما انهن من بلاد وثقافات واماكن مختلفة؟

أم هي عوامل أخرى، نعرفها كلنا جيداً، في بلد صغير كلبنان، نجد به 'عاملة منزلية (أو اثنتين أو ثلاثة) في كل بيت نزوره، بيوت الأهل، والأصدقاء، والجيران، والمعارف؟

- ساعات العمل اللا متناهية

- حرمانهن من أيام العطل والنفس والحرية

- الحجز غير القانوني لجوازات سفرهن وأوراقهن الشخصية

- تعرضهن للعنف اللفظي والجسدي والنفسي والجنسي في العديد من الحالات

- تجويعهن أو اطعامهن ما تيسر أو تبقى

- اعتبارهن غريبات الأطوار، أو مقصرات في عملهن، لأنهن لا يفهمن العربية، أو ما يطلبه أصحاب المنزل، من الإسبوع الأول

- العمل بالسخرة أي من دون راتب أو مع راتب متأخر دوماً أو مشروط.

- التحكم بكل تفاصيل حياتهن، ما يلبسن، متى يرتحن، متى ينمن، في كم منزل يعملن، من يحببن، من يكرهن، الخ

ان المعادلة بسيطة غير محتاجة إلى الكثير من التحليل والتنقيب. كل ذلك يؤدي إلى تدهور صحة العاملات النفسية ويدفع بعضهن إلى تفضيل إنهاء حياتهن على البقاء في هكذا دوامة لا متناهية من العنف. أو في حالات أخرى، يدفعهن إلى محاولة الهرب، كونهن بمعنى أو بآخر محبوسات في هذه البيوت، وليس لهن أي سبل مشروعة ومتاحة للإستقالة من هكذا عمل، أو لتغيير العائلة الكافلة. . فيتضطرن الى سلوك هذه الحياة طبعا، وسبل الخروج الوحيدة هي الشرفة أو النافذة . أو النافذة، فالباب مقفول. فكم على الشخص أن يكون مقيداً، ومخنوقاً، ومجرداً من أي أمل أو إحتمالات أخرى، كي يلجأ إلى تعريض حياته للخطر، مثل تركيب كل أغطية الشراشف في البيت واستعمالها كحبل طويل للعبور من خلالها إلى الطابق الأسفل، من الطابق السابع في أنصاف الليالي!

مؤخرا عقدت وزارة الصحة مؤتمرا، أعلنت فيه أن "العاملات الأجانب بالاضافة إلى السوريين والفلسطينيين، هم أكثر الفئات حاجة إلى العلاج النفسي، ولذلك ستتاح لهم الاستفادة من الطب النفسي مجانا" ولنفترض أن هناك اهتمام جدي بهذه الفئات وصحتها النفسية، هل يمكن للعاملات الأجانب أن يصلن إلى هذا العلاج دون موافقة "رب عملهم"؟

ومن هو المسؤول عن كفالة العاملة ومتابعة اجراءتها القانونية لدى الامن العام (من اقم وغيرها) في حال دخلت المستشفى او المصح؟ هل يتك معالجة العاملة مع الشرح لحالتها بلغة تتقنها؟ هل يتم مشاركة هذه الحالات مع الكفيل وما دور الكفيل اذا تبين ان الوضع النفسي للعاملة ناتج عن معاملة الكفيل لها وظروف العمل المنزلي؟ أما السؤال الأهم، لماذا تعالج النتائج بدلا من معالجة المشكلة من الجذور؟

العاملات لسن بحاجة إلى معالجة طبية نفسية، (ومشكورين على هكذا مبادرة طبعاً) بقدر ما هن بحاجة إلى:

تسريع معاملة سفرهن والعودة إلى بلدهن من قبل الأمن العام عندما يطلبن ذلك وعندما تسوء حالاتهن النفسية جراء ما يلقينه من معاملة هنا

تجريم العنصرية والتمييز والتحرش ومشتقاتهم

عدم اللجوء الى مراكز و مستشفيات علاج النفس كمكان لإسكات العاملات المنزليات المهاجرات وسجنهن فيها. وعدم السماح لاي من المعالجين النفسيين بفحص و تشخيص حالاتهن فقط لاختلاف مظهرهن أو تصرفاتهن .

إلغاء نظام الكفالة المجحف حق إجحاف بقدر ما لا يقل عن ١٠٪ من سكان هذا المكان واستبداله بنظام أكثر إنسانية ومنطقية، لا يربط وجود العاملة بإسم شخص واحد، بل بعملها فحسب هنا.

دمج العاملات المنزليات ضمن قانون العمل اللبناني، وبالتالي، ضمان حماية قانونية شاملة لهن وطرق مشروعة يمكنهن الاستناد إليها عندما يتعرضن للعنف، أو للإبتزازأو للإساءة على انواعها

معاقبة من يقوم بـالانتهاكات بحقهن من أصحاب منازل، أو مكاتب، أو قوى أمنية.

والقائمة طويلة، ولكنها متاحة للمهتمين، فالجمعيات المناصرة لقضايا العاملات، وعلى رأسها عاملات حقوقيات وناشطات، ناضلن في لبنان لعشرات السنين عن أوضاعهن، يعدن ويكررن كل سنة، في يوم العمال العالمي وغيره، المطالب التي يتمنينها ويحتجنها للعمل بظروف إنسانية ومحترمة وعادلة، تصون حقهن بحياة كريمة.

. أليست كل هذه الأسباب كافية ووافية لأن تعود العديد من هذه العاملات إلى بلادها غير متزنة من قساوة ما تعرضن له؟

حضرت مرة وثائقي يصف أن هناك العديد من البلاد، وعلى رأسها سريلانكا، قد بنت مستشفيات خاصة على أبواب المطارات لإستقبال مئات الحالات لنساء تعود إسبوعيا من منطقتنا وهي بحاجة ماسة للمعالجة النفسية أو غيرها، فتخرج من الطيارة إلى سرير المستشفى حالا.

يا سلام.

كم هي جميلة سمعتنا حول العالم.

في لبنان، تنتحر عاملتان كل أسبوع، ما يعني حوالي 9 عاملات شهرياً، أي مئة وأربع عاملات ينتحرن سنويا في لبنان على أقل تقدير، وحسب ما يصلنا من الإعلام، وكل هذه الأرواح مهدورة بلا أي رقيب أو حسيب أو تحقيقات جدية أو علنية. هؤلاء لا ينتحرن لأنهن يحبون ذلك، هؤلاء يفضلن إختيار الموت أو احتماله على الحياة 'والجنون' الذي يعشنه. صفة الجنون المطلقة على أكثرهن، ليست سوى وجهة نظر الأغلبية اللبنانية، التى حان وقت مراجعة نفسها لنفسها. رجاءً.

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Sawt al' Niswa

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Opinions

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Migrant workers

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Declaration of Insanity

deema kaedbey — Wed, 23 Dec 2015 15:25:04 +0000

Najwa Sabra

Three years ago, I came to Germany as a student. As of a year ago, I started working in Hamburg as an outreach social worker. In my daily personal and professional interactions, I experience firsthand and witness racist macro- and micro-aggressions, be they subtle, systematic, well intended or backhanded. In the following text, I try to reflect on these aggressions, on the phrases I heard that have stayed with me and still occupy me, and on the violent space that Germany – and Europe – has become.

I am no longer able to remain sane in the face of systematic violence.

Violent waiting rooms, they eat at me. Doctors’ clinics and hospitals, ministries, administrations and “aliens’” offices. The stares. The shifting tones with the shifting colors. “We’ve been here for two months; this is so hard. Three years of war in Aleppo weren’t as hard.” And the little 4-year old girl pushes her head deeper into her mother’s lap and pulls her jacket over her head, ignoring the smiles and waves of strangers in the bus. “She’s just a little sick. She’s tired and hungry; we didn’t expect such a long wait. Baba, tell the nice lady how old you are! Tell her!”

Waiting is a systematic tool of cruelty. I become a bit less human every time I wait at a red light when I can clearly see that there are no cars. So I cross with a skip in my step. I feel like a gladiator who just won his fight against dehumanization, and each time I wonder whether behind their stares of disapproval, people standing on both sides of the road, waiting, are in reality very impressed.

“In Germany, we don’t do things this way. You have to learn that, if you want to live here”. Learn won’t you? Learn the impossible language, learn how not to offend anyone, and learn your place. Learn not to seem entitled or ungrateful. Smile and say thank you. Be the poster refugee for Germany’s Willkommenskultur.*

But the psychiatrist says “this 7 year old child is at the moment incapable of learning.” After a year of waiting for his parents and brother to join from Yarmouk, he lost his focus. “Mrs. X, stop asking about your residency process! You should be grateful that meanwhile, you and your grandson get to live here in safety,” they say. And I wonder whether this room full of social workers and educators have ever heard of survivor’s guilt. Have they ever survived anything?

“Did you come through Italy or Greece?” I…I came in an airplane from Beirut. “By plane! If only we could have come by plane. We could’ve all come together. There was no place on the boat for my parents and my brother.” I should disappear now.

And because at the end of each day I forget how to breathe, I try talking about it. Naming the insanity, pointing at the violence. “You should position yourself clearly!” my colleague says, “remember, you don’t operate alone. You’re part of an institution.” And I burst out crying. I am part of an institution! How could I have ever allowed my social work to be associated with the German government and its many arms? This doesn’t help, I say. “Can you believe in the universal powers? that there are forces outside of you, that you do not carry the responsibility by yourself?” reformulates the work therapist. Are they kidding me? “I brought my cat with me from Lebanon. My cat traveled with me by plane,” is the only answer I can think of.

And you know it’s bad when no amount of cat videos can cheer you, and no silly series can numb your mind long enough to help you fall asleep. I am instead tempted to click on pseudo-scientific Facebook links: “7 subtle signs of depression you shouldn’t ignore.” But I live a life of privilege. I am not depressed. I am simply no longer able to justify sanity in the face of systematic violence. And I hate those who try to rationalize my anxieties, to help me “think” my way out of them.

I could probably grow a thicker skin. But my skin is still marked with a thousand scars from that one day, a year and a half ago. This will be the last time they silence me and sheepishly protect the abuser, I thought. So I shouted, and I screamed at them, and I cried and fell apart. And I called for my mom because no one else could make it better. Then I woke up to a spotted body. “It’s an auto-immune disease. Your body mistakes you for the enemy and attacks you, leaving these marks on your skin.” My body isn’t making any mistakes: bodies have the right to revolt against the systematic violence we submit them to. I apologized repeatedly, promised to be kinder, but my body was not in a forgiving mood.

Like my body, I am overwhelmed by the million subtle brutalities of everyday’s life, the absolute terror of the new normality. I write about it in a foreign language because I cannot allow myself to “feel” it in Arabic without breaking to pieces. Insanity could be my way out. To no longer be expected to have a good night sleep, eat well and function. To finally face the world the way we should all be facing it: with utter contempt and revolt.

* Wilkommenskultur: Literally “ Welcoming Culture” or “a Culture of Welcome,” a term used in Germany in association with the recent arrival of refugees.

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Sawt al Niswa

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Opinions

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hereandthere/من هنا وهناك

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Racism and Human rights: the continuous fight of Sudanese Asylums Seekers and Refugees with UNHCR in Lebanon

Lamia Moghnie — Mon, 30 Nov 2015 18:59:28 +0000

Azadeh Faramarziha, Stephanie Gaspais & Lamia Moghnieh

In the summer of 2012, Sudanese refugees and asylum seekers started a hunger strike outside of the United Nations Higher Commission for Refugees (UNHCR)’s headquarters in Beirut. They protested UNHCR’s racist treatment, the slow and almost suspended process of gaining refugee status and resettlement in a host country, and the acquisition of their basic human rights. Sudanese strikers spoke of being treated like “children” by UNHCR staff and officers, who gave them obscure information about their status, about how they were supposed to survive with no papers in Lebanon and of the process of resettlement. No protection was given to them by the agency who is mandated to provide protection and assistance for asylum seekers. The invisible and forgotten refugees of Lebanon started a hunger strike that summer to be acknowledged and treated as humans with basic rights.

Around 50 days into the hunger strike, on August 4th 2012, Sudanese protesters were arrested outside of UNHCR office and detained in prisons for demanding their human rights and a more transparent and less discriminatory process from UNHCR. The protesters were told that they will be released provided they sign a paper not to protest again. A solidarity protest was then organized in support of the Sudanese protesters who demanded:

-The immediate and unconditional release of the detained asylum seekers.

-That UNHCR stop abusing its power and position to violate the asylum seekers and refugees’ basic rights when they should be protecting and supporting them.

- that a new memorandum of understanding should be established between the UNHCR and the ministry of Interior where both acknowledge that asylum seekers or applicants to refugee status should not be arrested and/or detained under any circumstance; particularly and especially because they don’t have residence permits or legal papers.

Sudanese Hunger strike outside of UNHCR Beirut, 2012

Three years later, in the summer of 2015, the battle for the rights of Sudanese asylum seekers and refugees is still ongoing, with growing accusations of racist mistreatment and discrimination by UNHCR Lebanon. An open sit-in protest spontaneously took place at the end of July 2015 outside of UNHCR headquarters in Beirut and have been ongoing ever since. The Sudanese asylum seekers and refugees are protesting the non-transparent process and blunt discrimination they are facing from UNHCR Lebanon, in their battle for gaining refugee status and resettlement. After three years, many of their refugee and resettlement files are still closed and left unprocessed, and the resettlement process is either suspended or very slow to take place. One protester said “when we ask for the reasons, UNHCR says “we don’t know why”.

Listen to a Sudanese protester talk about the nontransparent process of resettlement and the reasons why she joined the sit-in from minute 4:42 to 6:10:

Radio Sawt

The open sit-in started when various Sudanese women and men gathered spontaneously to protest the slow process and lack of information provided by UNHCR about their situation. Some had their files closed for a long while, others had family members with suspended status. This gathering, while began out of frustration and need for a better treatment and services from UNHCR, evolved to become more politically organized as a way to pressure the agency to provide the protesters with rights as asylum seekers and refugees; rights that UNHCR should be able to provide by default as part of its mandate and function.

Listen to full stories and testimonies from five protesters at the sit-in here on Radio Sawt

Radio Sawt

UNHCR Lebanon used various strategies and tactics to dismantle the sit-in action: First, they resorted to cutting water and blocking bathroom access for the protesters, also prohibiting those who wanted to exit the sit-in area from re-entering it again. Some women left their jobs and stayed at the sit-in, while their husbands brought their children to them during the weekend so they could see them. While police allowed the protesters to put up tents when rain and winter were on the way, UNHCR refused to allow for tents to be established and also forbid the protesters from bringing mattresses so they slept on cartons. Many got sick among and had to leave the sit-in.

Watch a video made by Anti-Racism Movement (ARM) on how UNHCR responded to Sudanese protesters

Things escalated when two security men beat up and kick out some Sudanese men protesters on Saturday 10/10/2015 when the UNHCR office were closed. The security men, accompanied by a policeman, beat the men up and kicked them outside and let the women stay in the sit-in. UNHCR dismissed all responsibility for the protesters’ safety and claimed that it spoke to the security guards but that the latter denied any such actions. No investigation was done over the beating, and security cameras were not checked to investigate the incidence. Once again UNHCR not only offered no protection for Sudanese who were protesting peacefully for their own rights, but participated in their vulnerability by saying that these protesters’ safety are not UNHCR’s responsibility.

Listen to Sudanese protester speak of UNHCR’s mistreatments of Sudanese Asylum seekers and refugees (Minute 0:00 to 4:31)

Radio Sawt

There were similar incidences. Protesters spoke of rumors of UNHCR security guards beating up a Sudanese child and then later claiming that he fell. No investigation has been opened by UNHCR in this case either. Protesters say that the child was taken to the hospital and UNHCR did not provide any health services for his recovery.

Despite of all these tactics, the open sit-in was however successful in that it put pressure on UNHCR to reconsider opening the Sudanese files that they said were closed for no visible or tangible reason. Some of the protesters’ files were reopened due to the sit-in pressure and some of their problems seem to have been resolved. However, the fact that hunger strikes and sit-ins are the only way for Sudanese asylum seekers to get visibility and a better treatment from UNHCR is itself troubling. Moreover, UNHCR officers started to attend to each individual protester’ demands separately, re-opening files that were very recently closed and trying to solve individual demands of protesters, instead of providing a transparent and bureaucratically easy and accessible process through which all Sudanese asylum seekers and refugees can gain rights and services. Protesters who have managed to get their files opened have also said that UNHCR personnel have conditioned the opening of the files and the acquisition of demands with an immediate suspension of protesting. This conditioning is also telling of the problematic and non-transparent process and treatment of the Sudanese in Lebanon.

Listen to sudanese protester talk about the different strategies & tactics used by UNHCR to disrupt the sit-in action (minute 1:40-3:18)

Radio Sawt

Sudanese refugees have to literally strike, protest, scream and organize for them to be provided with basic rights for protection, information about their status and services that UNHCR is supposed to give equally to all refugees and asylum seekers in Lebanon.

Sudanese protesters spoke of the unjust and discriminatory treatment they receive from UNHCR in terms of rights and services, in comparison to other refugees. In a formal interview with a UNHCR official in 2012 on the different mental health services provided in lebanon (the interview was not allowed to be recorded), the official said that the unequal types of mental health services that Sudanese receive in Lebanon do vary from those received by Iraqis and Syrians because the formers are “asylum seekers” where the latter were “refugees”. Unlike refugees, he reasoned, asylum seekers, receive different level services because if their file is refused by the agency, UNHCR staff would be concerned that the services might hurt the asylum seekers and make them dependent when/if UNHCR have to suspend them. Ironically enough, a couple of years after this interview, global organizations that work in partnership with UNHCR had to abruptly suspend their psychiatric services to Syrian refugees because of “lack of funds”. Psychiatrists working with these organizations were told to tell the refugees that the program was simply suspended and were appalled since many of the refugees were now “dependent” on psychiatric medications that should not be simply suspended because the withdrawal symptoms can cause major distress. It seems that neither refugee or asylum seeker can escape the plight of “dependency” on services provided by UN agencies and their partners.

Listen to one of the protesters compare the UNHCR treatment of sudanese with syrian refugees, arguing that all miseries are one and all humans should be treated equally by humanitarian agencies and organizations (from minute 9:09 to 10:33)

Radio Sawt

While humanitarian organizations and agencies work based on principles of universality, humanity, neutrality and impartiality, this protester argued that humanitarian bureaucracies, funds and services many times do discriminate between refugees and end up themselves producing different typologies of miseries and humanities between refugees themselves, while claiming to attend to all humans equally. As this protester is pointing out, the politics of humanitarian aid produce hierarchies of lives and suffering. But all miseries are one.

There were other accusations of corruption within UNHCR Lebanon, that the agency targets a specific section of Sudanese, and have called on specific people, both Sudanese and policemen, to come and disrupt the sit-in action since it started. These people terrorized the sit-in and threatened protesters to call the police who they were told will arrest them because they have no papers (which is the same as what happened in 2012). Employees have also allegedly threatened protesters to bring them the police.

Watch video made by ARM on how police arrestted Sudanese women protesters and said “shut the animals up”

From 2012 to 2015, it is clear that there is something systemic in the mistreatment of Sudanese asylum seekers and refugees by UNHCR lebanon. While some files have been opened, and some services acquired, mainly due to the pressure caused by the sit-in, the process of resettlement is still very obscure and non-transparent and there is no proper protection for the Sudanese by UNHCR.

In the face of these accusations and protests against UNHCR, it is not enough to resort to the argument of “UNHCR is better than nothing”. United Nations agencies have been heavily critiqued in humanitarian and academic literature for their implicatedness in the work and projects of national state policies, ideologies and governance. For example, in a recent conference on the Middle East, UNRWA’s practices in Syria were critiqued especially when the agency transferred its services during the fights to pro-regime strongholds, thereby making the trip for services for Palestinian refugees living in anti-regime strongholds literally a trip of life or death. It is only fair to inquire to what extent does UNHCR in Lebanon carries within it the racist ideologies and practices of the Lebanese State itself.”. Moreover, one protester spoke of how the Sudanese refugee sit-in organized in Cairo was also completely destroyed and dismantled making a systemic link between the mistreatment and violence Sudanese refugees and asylum seekers are exposed to by UNHCR in Egypt and Lebanon.

We stand in solidarity with the Sudanese Asylum seekers and refugees, demanding:

-An immediate investigations by UNHCR into the beating of Sudanese Asylum seekers on 10/10/2015 and the alleged beating of a Sudanese child by UNHCR security guards and an investigation into racist and discriminatory treatment

-A more transparent and accountable process from UNHCR staff and personnel in the process of resettlement and protection of Sudanese Asylum seekers

The Anti-Racism Movement is hosting an information session this Thursday, December 3rd to highlight the plight of Sudanese refugees. The discussion will center around testimonies from members of ANJO, 'a group established to support Sudanese refugees in Lebanon on the humanitarian and legal levels, as well as their resettlement rights, and some of the Sudanese protesters will also be present. Please join the information session to learn more how to stand in solidarity with the Sudanese asylum seekers and refugees.

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عن يلي صار ب ٥ حزيران ٢٠١١

Lamia Moghnie — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 10:01:05 +0000

Mozzom 2011

Farah Salka فرح سلكا

كان لازم يكون في مسيرة للحدود اللبنانية من بعد ١٥ ايار ٢٠١١ تزامناً وتضامناً مع كل التحركات التانية يلي عمبتصير بغزة والجولان والضفة الغربية لفلسطين المحتلة (يلي كلن محتلين للتذكير) ومصر وذلك نهار ٥ حزيران ٢٠١١ ويلي هي كمان ذكرى-النكسة-

وما شي جديد، تم منع المسيرة بآخر يوم من قبل السلطة اللبنانية، منعاً باتاً. يعني بظرف كم ساعة تركب شي مية حاجز جيش من بيروت وطول الخط جنوباً لتفتيش كل السيارات (المشبوهة) والباصات يلي ممكن كانوت طلعلو شي فلسطيني/ فلسطينية مجنون/ة ناوي/ة ي/توصل على الحدود.

كم شغلة مفيد التنويه عنها بخصوص هيدا الاجراء وكم قصة صارت بهيدا النهار:

١- يلي بدو يوصل على حدود، بحاجز أو مئة، حيوصل، بقدرة إلهية أو بشرية حيوصل، بالسيارة أو على رجليه بدو يوصل

٢- القضية مبارح ما كانت بس قضية فلسطينية بحبو فلسطين وبدهم/هن يوصلوا عالحدود، وما كانت بس قضية عيل الشهداء يلي سقطو ب ٢٥ ايار، وما كانت بس قضية لاجئين ولاجئات صرلن ٦٣ سنة مشردين بلبنان وممنوعين من العودة عفلسطين، وكمان ممنوعين من الروحة عالحدود حتى ليشوفو فلسطين. القضية فيها كتير قصص ثانية أبرزها إنو في كثير لبنانية ومش بس فلسطينية قرفوا وإختنقوا من السياسات والتصرفات العنصرية من قبل الجيش اللبناني وحزب الله تجاه الفلسطينية، فالنشاط والتحركات ماكانت بس من “الفلسطينية”.

٣- العديسة: في مجموعة من الشباب والشابات الفلسطينيين/ات واللبنانيين/ات وصلو عالحدود، يعني هل التحضيرات والحواجز ولإستنفار الأمني ما فادوا بشي، بدهن يوصلوا ووصلوا، ورفعوا علم فلسطين والحطات وشارات النصر بوج إسرئيل وعالحدود! الجيش والمخابرات بعدهم لهلق عم يحققو ويحللو كيف هيدا الشي صار. الصدمة مش سايعتهم.

٤-ألوف الجنود يلي كانو بالشوارع نهار الأحد، كلهن على بعضهن كانو واقفين كرمال ٢٠ أو ٣ واحد منا مش أكثر وما قدرو يوقفو حدا من إنو يعمل يلي براسو /راسا.كأنو الجيش اللبناني عندو رعب مستشري بلاوعي تبعولو من “الفلسطيني”. ا.ل. ه. ل. ع.

٥- برج الشمالي: كانت أعداد العالم يلي متجمعة على باب المخيم كثيرة ونصبوا خيمة وعملو عصيان مدني قدام الجيش، وكانوا (الجيش) قاطعين الطريق على إنو العالم تفوت عالمخيم، ليطلعو وبعدين بمبادرة كثير رائعة، وبيقرروا إنو يروحو يفسرو للجيش إنو مشكلتهم مش معهم ولا بدهم يتصادمو معهم وكل همهم يرجعوا عا فلسطين ويروحوا يزورو الحدود بهيدا النهار مش أكثر ولا أقل، فا بتجي إم الشهيد محمد يلي ما صرلو أسبوعين مستشهد وبتروح عند رئيس الجيش يلي يبيأمر وبينهي ببرج الشمالي وبتقدملو باقة ورود قدام كل المتجمعين لتعبرلو عن كل هيدول القصص:

شو بيعمل؟؟بيرفضهاوبيقول إنو ممنوْع من إستلامها، فبتحطهم عالأرض!

بعد هيدا المشهد المزري، قعدنا مع إم الشهيد، وسمعناها عم تحكي..كل شي شايفة سامعة أو عارفة إنو في شي اسمو قوة بالدنيا ما مرأ علي بحياتي متل العنفوان والنفس والطاقة يلي كانو عام يطلعو منها لهيدي الانسانة..ما طبيعي. كل الفخر..ما بتذكر ابنها إالا ووجهها عم يضحك.. مش حزنانة ولا شبر.. وعيونها بتضخ قوة هي وعم تحكي.

٦-عين الحلوة: شباب صغار عمر أكبر واحد فيهم/هن ١٥ سنة إنمنعوا من إنو يضهرو من المخيم أو يعملو أيا تحرك بهيدا النهار، كلمة ممنوع بتجي بالتزامن مع كلمة فلسطيني بلبنان ممنوع تاكل ممنوع تشرب ممنوع تتنفس ممنوع تتحرك وممنوع تشتري ممنوع تورث ممنوع تتحكم ممنوع تسافر وأهم شي إنو طبعاً ممنوع تعمل ردة فعل على كل هالممنوعات.

وآخيراً وليس آخراً الشعب الفلسطيني جبار و رح يبقى.

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شكلي سوري: مع انو سوريا بتبعد ٢ساعة عن بيروت

Lamia Moghnie — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 21:00:00 +0000

ىارا شهايد

كل مرة بكون قاعدي مع رفقاتي يلي ما بيعرفو إنو أنا سورية وبيصيرو يتمسخرو على الشعب السوري خصوصاً إذا فات حداً وشعرو مش مظبت أو تيابو ملونين، فأول ملاحظة بيعطوا يها “ليك شكلك متل السوري” كأنو السوريين إلون 3 ايدن و 5 اجرين أو شي ماركة مسجلي “ت م سوري الجنسية “.

هيدا نوع من أنواع العنصرية يلي بيسقطها جزء من الشعب اللبناني على السوريين، هيدا كلو والملاحظات يلي بتلاقها لما يسألوني العالم انتي من وين؟ وقلون :”من سورية” كوم.

-اه! إيه بس مش مبين عليكي!!

ما بعرف إنو كيف ممكن يبين علي إنو أنا من منطقة بتبعد ساعتين عن بيروت، كيف ممكن يتغير شكلي إذا الجغرافية ما تغيرت ولا المناخ تغير؟ هلأ العالم إلي شوي مطلعين على الاثنيات والتركيبة جيو تاريخية لل بلاد، بيعرفو إنو الشكل ما بيتغير يعني ما ممكن يبين علي اني سورية، بس بردو بيتفجأو ليه ؟

اه، إيه تذكرت مش طبيعي إنو السوري ة تكون شاطرة بالمدرسه وبالجامعةوكمان مش ممكن تكون السورية بتحكي إنجليزي وفرنسي، وكمان مش ممكن تكون “سورية” وما تكون عايشة باجواء باب الحارة! مش ممكن تكون سورية وبتقرا كتير،ومش ممكن كون سورية وبيي منو معمرجي أو نجار، مش ممكن كون سورية واسهر بالحمرا ومش ممكن كون سورية ومن معلقة بغرفتي صورة مش ل بشار. كنت إسأل حالي ليه دايماً أهلي كانو يقوللي ما ضروري الناس تعرف إنو نحن سورين، خصوصي إنو “ما مبين علينا” ما ستوعبت الفكرة بالأول وكنت قلن إنو ليه الكندي بقول أنا كندي والاميركاني نفس الشي وليه السوري لأ، وبدو يدور ع شي ضيعة لبنانية يكون فيها من نفس عيلتو. ليه ديما بحسسوني إن سورية خشبة عار . منو عيب يكون الواحد سوري، بس وقت بعض النكت اللبنانية بتكون عن الحماصني اغلب الوقت. إيه نسيت قول إنو حمص بسورية. وأكيد،بتصيربتتردد قبل ما تعلن عن أصلك لما كل ما يدء الكوز بالجرة بيكمشو الشباب “حراس الحي بالوكالة” عمال سورين وبيضربون إدام الجيش والدرك يلي عام يتفرجو، بتتردد إنو تعلن عن أصلك وقت كل ما تنقطع الكهربا بالبناية بتسمع الجارة “ولك بلا زغرة بسورية في عندن كهربا” بتتردد انك تعلن عن أصلك وقتى بتنبنى القاعدة الشعبية تبع الحزب هيدا أو هيدك حقدا على النظام السوري بالعمال السوريين.

أنا بدي إسأل سؤال، ليه كل هل مشاكل بتوجها الجاليات يلي جاي من دول فقيرة ؟ ما عم بحكي بس عن سورية، بل عن باقي الدول! سريلانكا مثلاً يلي صار كل الجالية إسما سنكارا أو كل عاملة أجنبية صارت سرلنكية حتى لو كانت فلبينية، أنا ما شفت واحد لبناني عم بكب عنصرية على شخص سويدي أو شخص أشقر وعيونو زرق، ليه؟ ليه حل حقد على الجاليات العاملة؟ ليه دايماً هيد النظرة الدونية لكل أجنبي إذا ما كان اوروبي طبعاً أو أميركاني أكيد ؟ليه الحقد ؟ليه التحقير؟ليه العنف؟ ليه الصورة النمطية ع كل سوري (هيد كرمل القافيه)؟ ليه العنصرية؟ وليه وليه وليه كتير اسئلة بس كأنو الجواب ومع قلة خبرتي بمجال علم الانثروبولوجية انو هيدامش بلد هيدا أرطت عالم مقسومين ما بيجمعها غير عقدة النقص واحدة:” إنو هني أحسن من العالم”.

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On living in Lebanon and not looking Lebanese or “clearly” European.

Lamia Moghnie — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 08:39:02 +0000

Lioba Hirsch

So… last week, I was with my friend from Bangladesh, having returned from a walk together back into the shelter’s living room. A woman I had never seen before, who was staying there, looked at us and smiled. I extended my hand and said, “Hi, how are you, I’m Lioba.”

“Oh, that’s perfect”, was her reply, and she smiled even more. “I’m the Psychoanalyst. Great that you’re here. We’ll be able to work a bit with your friend and you can translate for me.” She went off to get her bag.

Little parenthesis here, who said that Psychoanalysts are more intelligent than other people? No one. Why did I think it was the case? Good question, but the woman was about to teach me a lesson.

“I’m sorry”, I replied, but I don’t speak Bangla” (“Nor do I look Bangladeshi or Ethiopian, you stupid person”, said the uncensored Lioba in my head). She starred at me with consternation. “But, I thought that you were from Bangladesh!” she said clearly irritated.

“I know that’s what you thought, I wonder what put this idea in your head”, said the Lioba in my head. But on the outside, I behaved myself and just smiled. “No, sorry, I don’t,” was my short reply.

“Oh”, she was clearly disappointed. In order to keep her calm and convince herself that her world order was not imploding, but that some things were still like they ought to be, her next question was “So, tell me, where in Hamra do you work?”

Now, living in Lebanon and not looking Lebanese or clearly European, leads necessarily to one developing a certain kind of paranoia. And I don’t mean the traditional Middle Eastern conspiracy theories, no. I mean the Was-that-person-just-racist-or-just-normally-friendly. When one is surrounded by either Lebanese or American friends, it is very often difficult to make them understand why I just did not perceive her question as part of the small talk. You shall see why.

I smiled and said, ready to destroy that world order that she had intended to maintain through that question:”I don’t work. I’m a student.” “OOOOH”, her surprise was dancing around the room. “OOH”, she repeated, “At AUB?” I nodded. “Ok, then”, she breathed in. So did I. I realized at some point during my stay here that it annoyed me to be compared to Ethiopians (most of the time) or people from Bangladesh (sometimes), or Nepalese (once).

I usually formulate all sorts of nice, cute answers in my head, ready-made to yell at the next racist person. But most of the time I just smile.

Not because I don’t want to argue. No, I just think that sometimes it is pedagogically way more valuable to take one step at a time. We wouldn’t want to overload her, would we?

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How Do You Say “Hello Women” in Filipino?

Lamia Moghnie — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 22:00:00 +0000

Sara Emiline AbuGhazal

I have no idea. And yet I went down to Dawra and Bourj Hammoud on Sunday with a few of my feminist friends to talk to migrant women in Lebanon about the problems they face. It was the second day of “Hello Women,” a project we devised for International Women’s Day, where we stationed ourselves on the streets of 15 Lebanese cities and villages to ask women what they thought of women’s rights. In Dawra and Bourj Hammoud on Sundays, hundreds of migrant women go out shopping – the small percentage of them who actually get a day off on Sunday and can leave the houses where they work. And so we decided we needed to talk to them about their issues, primarily so that we, as Lebanese feminists, learn more from their experiences, and so that they, as migrant women, can learn about our different initiatives that support them.

From the beginning of the idea, some of us felt an unease towards the endeavor. Why, we were not entirely sure. But there was something about the dynamic of us going to meet the migrants, to talk to them in English and Arabic, to ask them about their problems, that made us a little hesitant. We already knew that dozens of them were dying from suicide or murders every year and we knew that almost all of them faced severe racism and abuse every day. We knew that many of the women would refuse to talk to us about their problems. We were, after all, Lebanese, and nothing about that warranted their trust. And we had little to offer except free language and computer classes and embarrassment for our racist people.

But we went down anyway. And little did we know that one particular woman would explain to us exactly why we were feeling so uncomfortable.

The markets were very crowded. More women stopped to talk to us than we had expected and every one of them had plenty to say about discrimination. I spoke to around 50 women from all sorts of nationalities. They shared the same problems but their stories were unique. Two women told me it was the first time they had left the houses where they worked in months. A group of four Filipino women said they could not fly home for holidays because of the travel ban. One Sri Lankan woman told me her niece has been jailed in Lebanon for over a month because her employer refuses to finish her paperwork and let her leave.

But none of these encounters prepared us for the intensity of meeting Nana, a middle-aged Sri Lankan woman who has been working in Lebanon for over 25 years and spoke better Arabic than me. I introduced myself to her and asked her what she thought were the challenges facing migrant women. She looked at me skeptically, asked if I was Lebanese, said something to her friend, looked at me again silently for a few seconds, and then said: “Ok, I will tell you about problems.”

Nana had brought her daughter to Lebanon a few years ago to find work. Her daughter was recruited to work in the house of a family in Sin el Fil. Immediately, the abuse started from her employers. Less than one month after she had started work, she jumped from the balcony in an attempt to escape. She broke her legs, her front teeth, and suffered a bad head injury. The family refused to shoulder any responsibility or even allow her to receive proper medical care. Nana had to fight them fiercely on her own to sign the papers to allow her daughter to return to Sri Lanka to recover. “She is your maid,” she screamed at the Madame, “but she is my daughter. That is my daughter.” Her daughter eventually returned to Colombo in a wheelchair and till today suffers mental illness as a result of her trauma in Lebanon.

Nana finished her story and looked at me for another few seconds. “Are these ‘problems’ to you?” she asked, mocking my initial question. “Are these problems good enough for you?”

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عفواً كاريتاس

hiba — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 22:00:00 +0000

Guest Contributor

تفشت في شوارع بيروت هذا الشهر إعلانات لحملة كاريتاس لحماية حقوق العامل الأجنبي في لبنان. تنوعت شعاراتها بين “عامليها منيح، بتعاملك من كل قلبها” و “الإنسان إنسان لو مين ما كان.

تغيظني وبشدة هذه الحملات الفارغة وأراها تهين العاملات بالعنصرية ذاتها التي تُعامَلن بها في المنازل. لماذا نطلب بكل هذا التهذيب والطفولية من اللبنانيين أن يحسنوا معاملة العاملات كأنه عمل خيري؟ كأنه يتوجب علينا تبرير المطلب؟ عيب.

أقترح على كاريتاس (بما أنني لا أملك تمويل أوروبي لأنشر مئات الإعلانات في شوارع بيروت) إستعمال التصميم التالي بديلاً.

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البنت فلسطينية

Lamia Moghnie — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 07:45:17 +0000

امل كعوش

http://meiroun.blogspot.com/

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Uncivil Rights for Palestinians: Women's Voices

deema kaedbey — Sun, 22 Aug 2010 21:00:00 +0000

Sonya Knox

On August 17, 2010 the Lebanese Parliament passed the latest version of a “civil rights” bill for Palestinian refugees. Rather uncivil than civil, the bill maintains the official, state-sanctified racism against Palestinian refugees. While it is no longer illegal for Palestinians to work in menial jobs, the new law continues to ban Palestinian refugees from syndicated white collar professions (like doctor, lawyer, engineer, dentist), and continues to ban them from owning property (a right which was taken away from them in 2001) and from inheriting any property bought before 2001.

This was not the version of the bill that should have passed. Earlier bills, proposed this June, would have granted Palestinian refugees in Lebanon – foreign residents for over 60 years – the right to work in any profession, to own and inherit land, and to access the National Social Security Fund. The version that passed was not the bill advocated for by the Campaign for Civil Rights for Palestinians, by the Right to Work Campaign and the Campaign for Employability of Palestinians. It certainly is not what concerned activists and NGOs have been fighting for since the end of the Lebanese Civil War. In fact, it’s not even similar to the bills that were originally proposed to Parliament.

It is hardly surprising that Lebanese politicians have yet again chosen to reinforce the most racist, discriminatory and basest sentiments in society – fear-mongering and protectionism are invariably more popular than progressive social development theory or basic human rights. What was surprising was that, for a brief moment, Lebanon could have started on the path to becoming a different place: a country where skills and not wasta is rewarded, a society where institutionalized racism is no longer defended, a place people want to stay in, invest in, rather than flee.

Over the past few days I’ve talked with friends and colleagues who live in the camps, second and third generation Palestinian refugees living in Lebanon, and asked them what they thought of the latest “civil rights” bill and how their lives might have changed had they really been granted civil rights. These are their words.

Rasha, 17, Bourj al Shemali^¹

I never get it, right, I never get why the Lebanese think I would want to stay here. Look, it’s not like I have a choice. Do you really think that 60 years ago my grandparents were like, “Oh, we’re bored of Nablus, what we want to do is leave behind all our money and the house and the family business and go live in this dirty, crowded camp where we can’t work”?!

Look, if I could go someplace else, I would. But I can’t. They don’t give visas to 17 year-old refugee girls. And they don’t let us do anything here. My brother has been trying to find work for like years, he has a computer degree from the university here, and when he applies, they tell him, “We don’t hire Palestinians.”

But I don’t understand why the Lebanese punish us. I mean, ok, the civil war – and I know what happened, I watched all of 7arb Lubnan – but that wasn’t me. I wasn’t even born yet. I’ve done nothing wrong.

But, yeah, when they were like the government is going to let us work like everyone else, I had this idea. See, I’m studying accounting now. It’s fine, but I don’t really like it. What I want to study is Arabic literature, the old classics and poetry. There’s no way that’s going to happen, because I don’t even have the baccalaureate, and then how would I get the money to study? How would I convince my family to pay so I can study something like that? But then, like, if we had the right to work, then I could become an Arabic teacher – not in UNRWA – but at a university. And then I could work, too, and help out. But we don’t have the right to work. So nevermind.

Layla, 38, Bourj al Barajneh

I never believed it would happen. I’ve lived here my whole life, I know how the Lebanese think, and I never believed they would give us rights. They’re scared, it’s a society of fear. They’re scared of each other, so they blame us, they punish us and put the army around the camps and make sure we can’t work decent jobs. And if, somehow, we actually manage to make some money, we can’t invest it back into Lebanon, because we can’t buy property.

So of course I knew the bill wouldn’t pass. Because being Lebanese means being racist, and they’re not ready to change. Look, we all know that it makes more sense to have Palestinians working here than all the other foreign workers. Because we live here, so whatever money we earn, we spend here. The money stays in Lebanon. We already pay the VAT and it’s not like we get any Lebanese health or education services. So this bill, it’s not a logical response, it’s just racist.

But what, what if all that was dropped? What if we could work anywhere, build anywhere, not be presumed guilty and have to worry every time we see the Army? Then I wouldn’t see everything always closed-off. I wouldn’t feel so choked. I would say, “Ok, good, now we can get to work and make something of ourselves here and work hard, so that we’ll be strong when we go back to Palestine.”

Dania, 24, Beddawi

I broke off my engagement last month. I don’t know why, something happened to me and I can’t be happy with him. So it’s bad, it’s really bad right now because it was kitbil kitab and now we have to pay his family a lot of money. My parents tell me it’s ok, that they don’t want me to be this upset, that they support me. But I’m scared and I’m upset and I want to get a job. I don’t want my parents paying the money of the divorce, I want to pay it off.

So, yes, I want a job. I have a civil engineering degree. I have a degree from the Lebanese University in English literature. And I speak English well. Do you think I’m going to find any work? There isn’t anything in the camp that pays well – even the international NGOs are stopping their work here. And Tripoli? Do you really think anyone would hire a Palestinian in Tripoli?

When they said that they were going to change the laws, you know, to give us rights, I thought that maybe things would get better. I know it would take time, but that yes, there would be opportunities. My father could open a store, I could work in an engineering firm, things would be better. But nothing’s changed, and I still need a job.

1 Names and places are all changed

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Opinions

Category:

palestinian refugees in Lebanon

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