To be young, Syrian and a refugee in the streets of Beirut

BEIRUT — Jihad is a Syrian boy from Homs who sells flowers on the streets of Beirut.  His earnings pay for his family’s food and housing. He fled Syria with his family when the conflict broke out there three years ago. His hands, clothes and face are smudged with black grime.

Jihad is one of thousands of Syrian children who work on the streets of Lebanon’s cities in order to support themselves and their families.

“They sell roses, beg for money, clean your windscreen, sell chewing gum — sometimes they sell themselves,” said Maher Tabarani, director of the Home of Hope charity, which takes care of street children.

The office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees estimates there are more than 400,000 child refugees from Syria currently in Lebanon, more than the population of Lebanese children in public schools.

According to UNICEF, 1 in 10 of those refugee children work.

Child labor isn’t new to Lebanon, but it has visibly increased since the start of the Syria crisis, said Miriam Azar, an emergency communication specialist at UNICEF Lebanon — especially in terms of children working on the streets in urban areas, as well as in fields in the agricultural sector, and also in industrial zones.

On a recent Friday night in a Beirut neighborhood filled with bars and restaurants, children as young as 3 and 4 years old maneuvered between idling Porsches and Land Rovers in front of busy clubs and restaurants. The children peddled their wares to the vehicles’ drivers stuck in traffic, and to the bar patrons smoking and drinking on the sidewalk.

Most of the patrons ignored the children or politely declined a purchase. Others gave them a few dollars.

Then there were those who were abusive.

“There are [more than 1 million Syrians] in Lebanon, and they are ruining the country’s image,” a middle-aged Lebanese man interjected as an Al Jazeera reporter spoke with Jihad.

“The Syrians, the Palestinians — they are embarrassing us in this country,’’ said the man, who wouldn’t give his name. “If they weren’t here, this would be the best country in the world. This kid should be in school and in bed by now. The Lebanese government doesn’t care about them, and their fathers send them to work.”

When Jihad told him this wasn’t true, the man grew angry. 

“Two more words and I will slap you in the face and make you spit blood,” he threatened. “Get out of here!”

The man then stomped off.

“Children selling goods on the streets are extremely vulnerable to violence, robbery, sexual abuse and exploitation, also through sex rings and even illegal organ trade,” UNICEF’s Azar said. “Children on the streets are also at risk of prey by child trafficking networks.”

Fifteen-year old Khaled is one of the Syrian children working on Beirut’s streets.  He shines shoes on Hamra Street all day, a job that carries the risk of getting arrested — or worse — for soliciting. 

“The police take our shoeshine box and they beat us,” said Khaled, who claimed he has been jailed 13 times in the past two years.

The Home of Hope is now responsible for 64 children, all of them sent to the home by court order. In Tabarani’s two years managing the home, he’s seen it all, he said.

“Because of the poverty, and uneducated families, [Syrians] will do anything to survive and make money,” he said. “So you will see we have rape cases arranged by the family, like pedophilia. Some kids were raised to be organ donors by their families, as if they are spare parts. There are also many prostitution rings because of the Syrian crisis. There’s a lot of desperation.”

One of the children at the Home of Hope is a thin 11-year-old, Jamal. He avoids direct eye contact and tries to hide the scars on his arm, some of which appear to be from self-inflicted cuts. He came to Lebanon from Aleppo three years ago with his family — then they abandoned him. He sells flowers on the street to survive, and makes around $20 per day. He has had to take care of himself on the streets and has grown up way too fast.

“I would always get into fights,” he said. “People would curse at me or hit me. My left arm was injured when I fought with another kid about who would get to sell roses first to a group of people. He pulled out a razor blade and slashed my arm.”

The Lebanese police arrested Jamal three months ago and brought him to the Home of Hope.

Fourteen-year old Mustafa has been here even longer: seven months. The Syrian-Palestinian and his family fled from Damascus to Lebanon when the Syria conflict began and the government began shelling their neighborhood.  

Once they were in Lebanon, his father became abusive, and Mustafa ran away. He worked on Beirut’s seafront, and slept there, until one night a few months ago, when a man tried to rape him. He fought with the man, and the police arrested Mustafa and brought him to the Home of Hope.