Iraqi Refugees Flee Stress, Fear

By David Snyder

In a square stone building in Beirut's Achrafieh neighborhood, 27 women are meeting today to share their stories. They are refugees from Iraq. Each has endured the trauma of fleeing her home. Among them is Bahiga Baba.

Like all of the women here, Bahiga remembers well the fear that accompanied her flight from Iraq in early 2008. It started years earlier and built finally to the breaking point.

"My husband used to work with the American forces, and he was threatened, so we had to leave Iraq," Bahiga says.

After fleeing to neighboring Syria, Bahiga, her husband and their five children struggled to make it. Jobs were unavailable, and soon the lack of money and the stress of refugee life prompted them to look homeward as they overcame the fear they had felt when they left. They returned to Iraq. But the homecoming was short-lived.

"People told us armed men were coming to kill us, so for a whole year we moved from house to house to stay with relatives," Bahiga says. "My kids had to leave school."

With stress and fear as daily companions, the family could take it no longer. Fleeing to Lebanon, they registered as refugees with the United Nations the day after they arrived—committing themselves to an uncertain future. Lebanon is not a signatory to the Geneva Conventions, and refugees in the country are not officially recognized. The family's next stop, however, brought with it decidedly more certainty—the first security they had felt in years.

"The other families told me to go and sign up with Caritas," Bahiga says. "So we went the week after we got here."

That was at the Caritas Lebanon Migrant Center, the first stop for thousands of Iraqi refugees when they arrive in Lebanon. An estimated 25,000 to 50,000 Iraqi refugees now live in Lebanon. More accurate figures are hard to come by. Most here have overstayed their visas, or entered the country through the porous borders of neighboring states, all in the hope of finding a way out of Iraq.

Uncommon Caring

With support from Catholic Relief Services, the Caritas Lebanon Migrant Center is providing a wide range of care and support to refugees like Bahiga Baba. Families served by any of the center's six field offices receive mattresses and heaters, baby formula and basic food—all free to those in need. Refugees also receive support in paying their rent, accessing education for their children and receiving necessary health care—options otherwise unimaginable for many who show up in the country penniless.

But the reach of the center extends further still. Cast from their home villages in Iraq, the refugees are vulnerable to a new world of threats. Through training, they learn about everything from protecting themselves against HIV to child care and gender violence.

After years of living with uncertainty and fear, Bahiga Baba's story of displacement is approaching an end. Accepted for resettlement in the United States, she will soon move again—this time, she hopes, for good. Her transition made easier by the help she received through the Caritas Lebanon Migrant Center, she looks forward with both excitement and trepidation as she reflects on the journey that has brought her here.

"I am happy because I am leaving, and I want to leave. At the same time I'm scared because it's a new country for me," Bahiga says. "But I didn't have a choice—my children were threatened."

David Snyder is a photojournalist who has traveled to more than 30 countries with CRS.