Lives sometimes weave in silence
Over the past decades, trash bins have become a common sight across Lebanon, littering every street corner and awaiting collection by Sukleen. Small groups of individuals, many of them Syrian children, tirelessly sift through the city’s waste from morning till night, recovering materials like plastic to resell. Rain or shine, day or night, they work relentlessly, using their bare hands. Abandoned not only by the government but also by organizations and associations, they have become an invisible part of the urban landscape.
Meanwhile, racism against Syrians has only intensified across Lebanon. In recent months, young Syrian men have been abducted, tortured, or beaten to death. If one individual is found guilty of a crime—or even if not—the entire community is often blamed by extremist groups. Since the outbreak of the Syrian war in 2011, over a million Syrians sought refuge in Lebanon, only to find themselves trapped in another form of discrimination and rejection. The working class and less fortunate among them try their best to adapt, blend into their surroundings, or work to provide for themselves and their families. They often end up doing jobs that many Lebanese refuse, such as cleaning, delivering, or sorting through trash bins. Despite this, society still complains about their presence and the perceived scarcity of work opportunities.
The lack of opportunities in Lebanon is stark, with low salaries and high education costs making access to education particularly difficult for the most vulnerable, especially migrants. Many students begin their professional lives burdened with debt due to the cost of their education, and securing a job that doesn’t require the degree they earned can feel both disappointing and degrading. For Syrians, the situation is even more challenging. Despite what the law might suggest, it is nearly impossible for them to obtain the necessary documentation to work legally in Lebanon. Although Syrians can technically renew or regularize their legal residency by having a Lebanese sponsor sign a pledge of responsibility with the General Security Office, the reality is much more complex. Lebanese law requires them to obtain a work permit from the Ministry of Labour, which is notoriously difficult to secure. This permit is often withheld, either through bureaucratic obstacles or intentional denial, effectively trapping many Syrians in a cycle of illegality and exploitation, unable to find stable, lawful employment.
Compounding these challenges is the fact that Lebanon, a country facing its own profound crises, is currently hosting over a million refugees. This massive influx has strained the nation’s already fragile infrastructure and resources, creating a complex situation where both the local population and the refugee community are competing for limited opportunities. The difficulties Syrians face in obtaining legal residency and work permits are exacerbated by this broader context of economic instability and political turmoil. As a result, many refugees find themselves in a precarious position, caught between a host country struggling with its own survival and the dire need to support themselves and their families in an environment that offers little support or security.
In early 2023, I met Jassem, who sorts through trash bins daily, searching for sellable materials to sustain his family. I followed him for a while, documenting his journey between the streets and his family home in the hope of understanding the struggles they face and capturing their daily life, which weaves in the corners of the city, in silence.
On a street corner in Kraytem, a southern neighborhood of Beirut, Jassem, 23, Khaled, 17, Walid, 16, and Maher, 11, sort through waste to salvage materials they can later sell. Originally from Raqqa, these four brothers fled the Syrian war in 2011. They now live in the working-class neighborhood of Mar Elias with their family.
Despite the hardships they endure, navigating their challenging circumstances in Lebanon remains a preferable choice compared to the horrors they fled in Syria. However, they lament the absence of support from NGOs and the lack of attention from others, leaving them largely overlooked and unheard. They work in the Kraytem area, between three waste collection points. For the past five years, these siblings have taken turns, working seven days a week, tirelessly sorting to collect plastic, which they will sell by the kilo to a dealer. This strenuous and meticulous work sustains their entire family's daily needs.
Jassem is humble, respectful, and gentle. After facing many rejections from other groups of waste sorters, Jassem is the only one who accepts without discomfort, as he sees this as simply another job.
Jassem’s wife returned to Syria to check on her family after the earthquake. She got caught on the way back, and they didn’t receive any news for an entire week.
The earthquake that struck Syria on February 6, 2023, was a powerful magnitude 7.8 tremor, one of the deadliest to hit the region in decades. It primarily affected northern Syria and southeastern Turkey, causing widespread destruction, collapsing buildings, and resulting in tens of thousands of casualties. The devastating impact left many families displaced and added even more strain to an already fragile situation for Syrian refugees in Lebanon, who faced uncertainty, loss, and a lack of resources in the aftermath.
"Every morning, we start at 7 AM and finish the next day at 1 AM, after selling the day's collection. If we don’t work, we don’t eat," explains Jassem, who previously worked in construction. As they were always late with payments, or sometimes didn’t receive payment at all, Jassem decided to start sorting out plastic. He sees it as any other job.
Every day, they collect around 40 kg of plastic, which they later sell for 10,000 LL per kg to a man in Mar Elias, who then resells it to a factory. This allows them to earn approximately 1,000,000 LL per day, covering the basic needs of their entire family (around $15 per day, $350 per month at the current exchange rate).
They store the items they find and could potentially resell at their homes: light bulbs, empty perfume bottles, clothing, and more. Rarely do they keep the items they discover, such as the Quran found one day in one of the bins.
Despite their daily struggles, the family’s aspirations remain clear. They hope their children will be able to attend school, though the cost of education remains a significant obstacle. They are actively seeking a solution but are unsure about the steps to take. The school fees are a constant challenge, and the adults also express a desire to learn English.
Jassem responds when asked how people could help by saying, "I expect nothing from anyone, but I’m grateful to know that people are sorting at home. If they could at least sort glass, it would help. We often cut ourselves because we can’t afford cut-resistant gloves."
"I don’t think about tomorrow nor yesterday. I am here, I work, and I only think about today.”
"YESTERDAY IS BUT TODAY'S MEMORY, AND TOMORROW IS TODAY'S DREAM."