‘Trapped with Nowhere to Turn: African Migrants in Lebanon Feel Forsaken Amid Israeli Airstrikes’

Soreti is one of the large crowd estimated at between 175,000 and 200,000 foreign domestic workers residing in Lebanon, predominantly women. A 2019 report by Amnesty International, referencing the Ministry of Labour, highlighted that Ethiopian women made up at least 75% of this group. Their journey to Lebanon began in the 1980s and gained momentum after the civil war ended, with a surge in migration during the 1990s and 2000s. Most are employed in low-paying jobs as live-in caregivers, sending financial aid back home to their families.

Since October of last year, Israel has been engaging in military actions against Gaza and recently intensified its operations in Lebanon. The military asserts that the offensive is aimed at sites used by Hezbollah, a Lebanese group.

The toll of these hostilities over the past year includes 1,900 fatalities in Lebanon, according to the Ministry of Health. This unrest has also led to the displacement of over a million people, including numerous migrant domestic workers, says Soreti.

“Everyone fled the city, heading to Beirut or wherever they have family. However, for migrants, there is no safe haven,” she noted. “Some are left with no choice but to sleep outdoors.”

In Sidon, Lebanon’s third-largest city, schools have been turned into temporary refuges for displaced citizens, shares Wubayehu Negash, another longtime Ethiopian domestic worker who is now contemplating fleeing after two decades in Sidon.

“Our immediate area hasn’t been targeted too harshly yet, unlike nearby places like Nabatieh and Ghazieh. We’re holding up, but the unease about staying is overwhelming,” she explained. “I lived through the 2006 attacks, and this is way worse.”

These assaults exacerbate an already dire financial crisis that emerged in 2019, drastically devaluing the Lebanese pound by as much as 90%. By 2021, the United Nations reported that a staggering three-quarters of the populace were below the poverty threshold.

Amidst this chaos, the COVID-19 pandemic hit hard, rendering many domestic workers jobless. Many Lebanese employers could no longer afford to pay their foreign workers and irresponsibly left them on the capital city’s streets, near their embassies, Amnesty reported. Despite these hardships, many chose to remain, faced with bleak prospects in their home countries.

As frequent skirmishes flared between Israel and Hezbollah over the past year across Lebanon’s southern boundary, the embassies in Beirut were swamped with requests for repatriation.

The Philippines, a significant source of domestic workers, actively facilitated the return of its nationals, offering free repatriation throughout the year. However, domestic workers from Africa report that their respective diplomats have been largely unresponsive.

“It feels as if we don’t have an embassy here,” stated Sophie Ndongo, a Cameroonian leader among the migrant domestic workers in Beirut. “Cameroonian women ask me for help as if I’m the ambassador!” Cameroon only has an honorary consul in Lebanon, Ndongo offered.

“Recently, women have escaped from southern Lebanon seeking refuge in Beirut. Some called me when their employers locked them up and fled, abandoning them to their fate,” she recounted.

Smoke billows after an Israeli attack on Beirut’s Dahiyeh on October 3, 2024 [Murat Sengul/Anadolu Agency].

‘Domestic Workers Deserve Dignity’

In Lebanon, migrant laborers lack the protection afforded under the national labor laws, being governed instead by “kafala” or the sponsorship system. Rights advocates liken this system to a form of modern-day enslavement.

This collection of rules prevents migrant workers from legally pursuing justice when faced with abuse, regardless of severity. Human Rights Watch has documented extensive misconduct against domestic workers. By 2017, it was feared that two migrant domestic workers perished weekly—often due to desperate escape efforts or suicide—said Lebanese authorities.

“Regrettably, domestic workers here aren’t seen as human,” Ndongo observed. “The discrimination and exploitation in workplaces have been dreadful for decades. I see no hope for change.”

The kafala system means that foreign workers depend on their embassies for intervention, whether to escape exploitation or defend themselves legally. Many consular offices from workers’ countries aren’t run by diplomats but by “honorary consuls” – usually part-time Lebanese citizens. Investigations have revealed the negligence and maltreatment citizens face from these representatives.

As the crisis intensified, Al Jazeera discovered that the honorary Kenyan consulate and Ethiopian consular offices employed social media to gather citizens’ identification for potential repatriation. But, with most flights canceled and attacks persisting, there’s no clear timeline for previous flights to continue.

Inquiries sent to the Ethiopian and Kenyan diplomatic offices in Beirut by Al Jazeera were unanswered.

Excluded for Being ‘Non-Lebanese’

Sandrine*, from Madagascar, spent two homeless nights, roaming after fleeing the wreckage of her home in Beirut’s Dahiyeh—ravaged by Israeli strikes.

“I wish Madagascar’s honorary consul’s optimistic Facebook statuses would translate into real assistance,” she mused. “I still hear the blasts when they assassinated [Hezbollah leader Hassan] Nasrallah—an earth-shattering noise like a hundred quakes that left destruction behind.”

The Health Ministry counts over 11,000 casualties. Sandrine suspects many migrant workers are included given the sheer devastation she’s witnessed. Two Ethiopian individuals in Tyre confirmed knowing two compatriots who died with their employers when airstrikes leveled their buildings—a claim yet to be independently confirmed by Al Jazeera. The Ministry of Health fails to categorize casualties by nationality.

Sandrine found finding shelter challenging even for survivors due to an acute scarcity. While public buildings in Beirut open to displaced people, they decline access to migrants, she said. She eventually found aid amongst friends.

“They claimed it was a documentation issue, but it seemed like ‘Lebanese only’ was unwritten law,” she stated.

A five-year-old child rests in a migrant shelter in Beirut [Louisa Gouliamaki/Reuters].

North in Tripoli, Selina*, a migrant from Sierra Leone, informed Al Jazeera that she was among 70 others, mostly Sierra Leoneans with some from Bangladesh, evicted from a school shelter for being ‘non-Lebanese’.

“Upon receiving warnings of forthcoming Israeli bombings, I joined my community’s displaced in search of refuge. Among us were mothers and children. We reached Tripoli by bus, arriving post-midnight. Only the morning light unveiled our presence.”

“Officials from General Security (Lebanese immigration) ousted us, branding us as ‘ajnabi’—outsiders,” she lamented.

After returning to Beirut, Selina said local police turned them away from downtown public spaces, even amid displaced throngs.

“We spent five days on the streets, enduring rain and nightly bombings, as locals repeatedly reported us. I broke down, pleading with police that there were babies amongst us,” she shared.

Migrant-support organizations and Lebanese charities frantically sought volunteers and welcoming sanctuaries willing to host affected migrant families.

Despite the burden falling mainly on such small groups, notable humanitarian aid agencies, such as the UN’s International Organization for Migration (IOM), have remained mostly silent or hesitant, said three aid workers familiar with the responses—corroborated by documents viewed by Al Jazeera. IOM’s Beirut office is yet to address Al Jazeera’s email inquiry.

Tsigereda Birhanu, an Ethiopian humanitarian with the migrant-led group Egna Legna Besidet, confirmed to Al Jazeera that shelters, schools, and churches were rejecting displaced Africans.

Her organization arranged shelter and essentials for 45 people from Selina’s group, helping with nutrition and beds as well. Another local entity aided the remainder.

“Shelter remains a gigantic hurdle. There’s no official system for migrants. Without benevolent souls, many more would be out on the streets. With winter approaching, it’s getting chillier,” Tsigereda noted.

She showed footage of a deserted building site used by 60 Bangladeshi migrants denied access to state shelter places. These invisble worries are compounded by fears of health and heart issues worsened by the turmoil, Tsigereda explained. Small groups like hers lack the means to provide beyond the basics.

“We simply don’t have the resources to accommodate everyone’s needs,” she decided. “The displaced and traumatized people here desperately need food, medicine, and clothing.”

*Names have been altered to protect the anonymity of those without documentation and those in vulnerable positions.

Edited by: Ali Musa

Axadle international–Monitoring