How Three Children of Migrant Workers Feel About Life in Lebanon

What better way to close out the Migrant Stories series then with tales from children? If you're just joining the series, here's what you missed:

• Dirty Ways the Single-Story Robs Our Dignity 
• How Being Forced Across Borders Causes Mental Strains 

Also, don't miss the opportunity to download a free copy of the Migrant Stories eMagazine designed especially for Her Blueprint. Now, let's hear what these brilliant young minds have to say.

Children of Migrants Have Their Say

About five percent of Lebanon's population is a migrant worker. As for children of migrants, their numbers remain unknown because of their invisibility. Many children of migrant workers face marginalization and racism within the Lebanese culture because of their parents' social status. Migrant Stories met with a few young people to hear about their lives in Lebanon.

  George

My name is George and I am 10 years old. My father is from Nigeria and my mother is from Sri Lanka. My mother came here to work in a hotel as a cleaner. My father works as an electrician. They met while working here in Lebanon.
 

My favourite subject in school is English and when I’m older I am going to France for University. I don’t speak French now but I will learn when I get there. I live with my mom and dad in the building where my father works. 

It’s OK living here. My mom doesn’t really like her job but they both work to take care of me. I hope that one day I will travel to Nigeria and Sri Lanka and see my countries.

Nisha

I’m 11 years old and I was born in Lebanon. My parents are originally from Sierra Leone, they came to look for work in Lebanon because of the civil war. A few years after I was born, my father was deported because he was fired from his job and it created problems with his work papers. 

My mother decided to stay behind and continue to work as a household worker. There is no work in Sierra Leone and the jobs they have don’t pay enough to take care of all of us.
 She’s not treated very well and she works a lot. 

My mother doesn’t like her work but she has to be able to provide for us. I wish we could go to Sierra Leone but because I was born here I don’t have my papers to travel. But soon I will have papers. My mom doesn’t have legal papers so she has been going to the embassy and they are trying to fix her papers. For now, I can't leave until my mom's papers are sorted out. 

This summer my friend Mona and I are planning to intern at a beauty salon. I want to work with hair when I get older so that I have a better salary and can take care of my mom. 

Life in Lebanon is boring because I can only hang out with my friends while at school because if the police catch migrant kids on the streets late they will ask for our identity papers. 
 Living here just makes you crazy because I deal with a lot of racism every day. I get into fights all the time with my Lebanese friends because they make racists remarks about me. Usually they start something with me and I return the favour.

Mona

My name is Mona and I am 15 years old. My mother is from Sri Lankan and my father is Jordanian. My mother came to Lebanon 20 years ago to work as a domestic worker. My mother’s Madame was not treating her well. She wasn’t being paid on time and she didn’t have many days off and sometimes she would mistreat her. 

My father was doing business in the country when he met my mother. He saw that my mother was having a lot of problems with her work and started helping her by getting her money and papers together so that she could leave her employment situation. 

Several years after I was born, my parents split. I don’t know why my father left but I don’t see him anymore. My mother was able to find another job as a maid so that we can stay here. I live in a small apartment in Achrafiyeh with my mother and younger brother. 

I don’t like it here because I don’t fit in with the Lebanese and I would like to go to Sri Lanka and live the life of the people there, see the rest of my family, speak my language and be around people who are like me. Because I was born in Lebanon my mother has been unable to obtain papers for me from the Sri Lankan embassy. She has to pay a lot of money to the embassy to have them do the paperwork for my passport and she can’t afford it. My father could have gotten me Jordanian citizenship but decided not to because it would mean that he would have to marry my mother. So, I am stuck here.

Over to You

What are some issues mothers face when it comes to caring for their children? What are some ways to cater to the needs of children who are forced across borders at an early age? Share your thoughts below or on the IMOW Facebook page. After that, share this post so that others can join the conversation.

Finally, take a look at the International Museum of Women project called MAMA. It's an amazing online exhibition of global art, ideas, and voices aimed at making issues affecting mothers visible.

Dirty Ways the Single-Story Robs Our Dignity

"There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you." - Maya Angelou

Imagine, you're trapped in a country. Rumours are spreading that you're either an Ethiopian spy or a drug dealer. Foreigners and local alike are spreading their clout. As a last resort, you go to your embassy in hopes of assistance. Only to find that your instincts, which kept you from going earlier, are verified.

"Well we share information with the ISI (Internal Security Intelligence)," she says, while speaking in code to your lawyer. "After all, the passport is our property."

In essence, conveying a message that you are their property.

Fast-forward to a year later, you're in Cairo, your phone is hot and the embassy is keen on spreading rumours as a means of letting you know whose the master.

Never once do they bother to ask for your side of the story. In fact, nor do those who are being fed the rumours. As a result, a select few have used their power to make their story the definitive story of you. This was my story.

How the Single-Story Steals One's Dignity

Globally, world leaders, state-run, and mainstream media have left Mama Earth's children in agony. We burn with untold stories of injustice, poverty, and a desire to no longer be treated like slave labour in their factories and corporations otherwise known as countries and borders.

Have you ever felt like that?

Several months ago, I had the pleasure of discovering a TED talk by novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie that I wish to share it with you.

Here is an excerpt from the talk:

"The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story."

"Start the story with the arrows of the Native Americans, and not with the arrival of the British, and you have an entirely different story. Start the story with the failure of the African states, and not with the colonial creation of the African states, and you have an entirely different story."

Introducing Migrant Stories 

As an experiment, I've put together a short eMagazine. It's a collection of stories from women forced across borders.

I made this especially for the Her Blueprint audience.

It is my firm belief that when we stop and listen to one another's story without judgement then we're able to correct what world leaders have undone. They've torn us, the earth's citizens, apart.

Recently, the world celebrated Mother's Day but how many of you took time out to give remembrance to Mama Earth? When was the last time you sat in silence and listened to her story? Every day she speaks to us. Every day she burns in agony that she can't capture our attention long enough because she too wants to be heard.

And respected.
And adored.
As well as have her dignity restored.

Enjoy the eMagazine.  Click here to grab your copy!