A Cruel Winter

A Syrian child, wearing sandals in the snow. Photo from Facebook.

Winter made it way to Lebanon last week in the most drastic way. A winter storm, dubbed Alexa, swept through the region, bringing gusty winds, rain, and snow to what had so far been a mild end to fall. In an area already fraught with disaster, the weather has turned out to be the latest violence inflicted on us all, but most especially on the Syrian refugees.

On Wednesday evening, my roommate and I found ourselves in the dark as the storm cut off our electricity for four hours, leaving us shaking from the cold in the living room despite wearing two layers of every item of clothing. And yet, we had a roof over our heads, and walls around us, no matter how poorly isolated they might have been. Across Lebanon, hundreds of thousands of Syrians were trying to survive the night under tents and flimsy shelters.

The struggle of many Syrians has become a heartbreaking backdrop of everyday life, invisible to many despite its omnipresence. Walking through Beirut, one passes the same scenes over and over again, each time with a growing feeling of helplessness, knowing that giving 1,000LL bills will never be enough to solve a crisis:

Young children alone in the streets, some no older than five perhaps, trying their best to sell lighters, plastic roses, pencils, anything to get spare change.

A teenage boy sitting on some steps on Hamra street, head in hands crying quietly.

An old woman dressed in black, sitting on the ground in a lone patch of sunshine near my office, trying to warm her sandal-clad feet in December's chill.

Mothers, cradling their babies while sitting on sheets of cardboard, repeating the same sentences over and over at passers-by.

ساعديني.الله يحميك. الله يسلمك.ساعديني.
Help me. God protect you. God bless you. Help me.

Some of their children look vacantly to the sky, their faces smudged, frail legs haphazardly crumpled on the sidewalk. Some will die from the cold.

These images might be broadcast to the world in hopes of eliciting pity and donations. But these people do not need our pity. They need our indignation, our rage against the indecencies that have led to their uprooting and homelessness and against the indecencies that keep them there.

Lebanon has repeatedly refused to build proper refugee camps for Syrians on its territory, citing the lasting presence of Palestinians in the country as justification for keeping so many in unlivable conditions. As if the refugees were the problem, and not the circumstances that forced them to resort to exodus in the first place.

Meanwhile, the Syrian conflict is raging on with no signs of ending. Syrian rebels are now fighting amongst each other, tearing away at hopes for a united front against Bashar al-Assad. The government and the opposition keep bickering over preconditions to peace talks, even though both sides know that they won't budge an inch, that this is all for show. Watching their masquerade, I wonder how long it would take them to reach an agreement if they had to live like so many of their fellow citizens, those whose fates are at the mercy of the more powerful.