BHANNINE, Lebanon (AP) – It was messy and hectic in the kitchen of Aisha al-Abed, as the first day of Ramadan often is. Food had to be on the table at exactly 19:07 when the sun went down and the day ended quickly.
What has traditionally been a joyous celebration of the beginning of the Muslim holy month around a hearty meal has been muted and upset for her small Syrian refugee family.
While the 21-year-old mother of two was working, with her toddler daughter on tow, there were memories of life’s hardships everywhere: in the temporary kitchen, where she crouched on the ground chopping cucumbers next to a single-stove gas stove. In their house: a tent with a concrete floor and wooden walls covered with a tarpaulin. And definitely in their iftar meal – rice, lentil soup, fries and a yoghurt-cucumber dip; her sister sent some chicken and fish.
“This is going to be a very difficult Ramadan,” al-Abed said. “It should be a better meal … After a day of fasting, you need more nutrition for the body. Of course I feel defeated. ”
Ramadan, which began on Tuesday, comes as Syrian refugees’ lives of displacement have become increasingly difficult amid the economic woes of their host country, Lebanon. The struggle can be more pronounced during the holy month, when fasting is usually followed by feasting to fill empty stomachs.
“High prices are killing people,” said Raed Mattar, al-Abed’s 24-year-old husband. “We can fast all day and then just fast an onion,” he said, with an Arabic proverb that was usually meant to convey disappointment after long patience.
Lebanon, home to more than 1 million Syrian refugees, is recovering from an economic crisis exacerbated by the pandemic and a massive explosion that destroyed parts of the capital last August.
According to the impact of the compounded crises, a UN study said the share of Syrian refugee families living below the extreme poverty line – the equivalent of about $ 25 per month per person at current black market rates – increased to 89% in 2020, compared to 55% the previous year.
More people have decided to reduce the size or number of meals. Half of the Syrian refugee families surveyed are suffering from food insecurity, compared to 28% at the same time in 2019.
Refugees are not alone in their pain. The economic unrest, culminating in years of corruption and mismanagement, has pushed Lebanese and plunged 55% of the country’s five million people into poverty and closed businesses.
As jobs became scarce, Mattar said Lebanese were competing for the low-paid construction and plumbing work that had previously been left mainly to foreign workers like him. Wages lost their value as the local currency, pegged to the dollar for decades, collapsed. Mattar earned from the amount of more than $ 13 a day to less than $ 2, about the price of a pound of sugar.
“People are friendly and helpful, but the situation has become disastrous,” he said. “The Lebanese themselves cannot live. Imagine how we manage. ”
Nerves flutter. Mattar was among hundreds of displaced people from an informal camp last year after a group of Lebanese set it on fire after a fight between a Syrian and a Lebanese.
It was the fifth displacement for al-Abed’s young family, which bounced mainly between informal settlements in northern Lebanon. They then had to move twice, once when a Lebanese landowner doubled the rent, and told Mattar that he could afford it as he was getting help as a refugee. Their current tent is in Bhannine.
This year, Syrians began the 10th anniversary of the beginning of the civil war in revolt that began in their country. Many refugees say they cannot return because their homes have been destroyed or that they fear retaliation, either because they are considered in opposition or for evading military service, like Mattar. He and al-Abed fled Syria in 2011 and met in Lebanon.
Even before Ramadan began, Rahaf al-Saghir, another Syrian in Lebanon, was frustrated with what her family’s iftar would look like.
“I do not know what to do,” said the mother of three recently widowed daughters. “The girls keep saying they crave meat, they crave chicken, biscuits and fruit.”
As the family’s options diminished, her daughters’ questions became more heartbreaking. Why can we not have chips like the neighbors’ children? Why do not we drink milk to grow up as they say on television? Al-Saghir recalls that she broke down in tears when her youngest asked her how the strawberry she sees on television tastes. She later bought something for herself with money from the UN, she said.
For Ramadan, al-Saghir was determined to stop her daughters from seeing photos of other people’s iftar meals. “I do not want them to compare themselves to others,” she said. “If you fast during Ramadan, you feel like doing a lot of things.”
The beginning of Ramadan, the first since the death of al-Saghir, brought tears. Her eldest daughters were used to their father waking them up for suhoor, the meal before dawn, which he would prepare.
A few months before he died – due to cardiac arrest – the family moved into a one-bedroom apartment shared with a family member’s family.
This year, their first iftar was simple – fries, soup and fatty salad. Al-Saghir wanted chicken but decided it was too expensive.
Before violence uprooted them from Syria, Ramadan felt festive. Al-Saghir cooked and exchanged visits with family and neighbors and feasted on delicious hearty and sweet dishes.
“Now, there is no family, no neighbors and no sweets,” she said. Ramadan feels like any other day. We can feel even more sad. ”
In the midst of her struggle, she turns to her faith.
“I keep praying until God,” she said. May our prayers be heard in Ramadan and may our situation change. … May a new path open up for us. ‘
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Fam reported from Egypt. Associated Press journalist Fay Abuelgasim contributed from Bhannine.
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