Lives sometimes weave in silence
Over the past decades, trash bins have become a common sight across Lebanon, littering every street corner, awaiting collection by Sukleen. Meanwhile, small groups of individuals, mostly children, tirelessly sort 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 hands. Abandoned not only by the government but also by organizations and associations, they have become a part of the backdrop. Who are they? Does this arduous and meticulous work provide for their needs?
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.
Navigating their challenging circumstances in Lebanon remains a preferable choice compared to the hardships faced in Syria. Despite this, 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 fo waste sorters, Jassem is the only one accepting without discomfort.
When I asked what could be done to help and raise awareness, he simply replies that he expects nothing from anyone but is grateful to know that people are doing some sorting at home. He explains that he would like people to at least sort glass, as they often cut themselves since they 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."
"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 used to work in construction. As they were always late to pay and sometimes would not even, he decided to short out the 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 Ellas, 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. (At the current exchange rate, about $15 per day, $350 per month).
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.
They aspire for their children to attend school and are actively seeking a solution. However, they are unsure about the steps to take, and the school fees pose a significant challenge. The adults also express a desire to learn English.
Through Jassem's story, we witness an unyielding resilience and hope, even under the crushing weight of their circumstances. In the heart of Beirut, amidst the refuse and the dally racism that Syrians endure, especially in 2024, there remains a steadfast spirit of endurance and an unwavering quest for a better tomorrow.
"YESTERDAY IS BUT TODAY'S MEMORY, AND TOMORROW IS TODAY'S DREAM."