‘Nowhere Is Safe’ – The Migrant Domestic Workers Abandoned In Lebanon

As explosions flashed across Beirut’s dark sky, Lina sat in an apartment block tucked away in the southern part of the city. She was alone and frightened, clutching her phone for safety. 

The 29-year-old housekeeper has worked in Lebanon since 2022. But when Israeli strikes began hitting the country, her employer packed up and left, leaving her to fend for herself. 

“They said they would be coming back later in the evening,” said Lina, from Kenya, who asked to be identified only by her first name. “That was three days ago.”

The Hamas-led attack on Israel last October has triggered a mounting regional conflict, including an Israeli ground offensive and deadly airstrikes in Lebanon. In a matter of weeks, Israel’s bombardment has killed over 2,300 people and displaced roughly 1.2 million, according to the Lebanese health ministry.

Yet as families here flee in search of safety, the low-paid migrant workers who clean their homes and care for their children are being left behind. The conflict has once again highlighted the vulnerability of the country’s foreign workforce, already working under conditions that rights groups have long said allow exploitation and abuse.

“I feel abandoned and left to die,” said Lina, in a panicked voice. 

There are roughly 177,000 migrants living in Lebanon, according to the International Organization for Migration, a United Nations (U.N.) agency, though the real number is thought to be much higher. Most come from Africa and Asia and many are women who work in private households. 

Two weeks ago, U.N. officials said most of the country’s nearly 900 shelters for displaced people were full, expressing concern for the tens of thousands of mostly female, live-in domestic workers being “abandoned” by their employers.

While some, like Lina, were left behind, others were taken to temporary shelters but later kicked out to make way for Lebanese nationals, according to media reports. Many said they have simply been turned away. With no alternative, workers are now sleeping on the streets or in parks. 

Although there are no reliable figures, Banchi Yimer, founder of Egna Legna, a community-based group which supports Ethiopian domestic workers in Lebanon, said they’ve witnessed a “huge” number of abandoned migrant workers. In just three days, her small team collected a list of more than 1,000 people in need of help, providing emergency assistance such as food, sanitary pads, mattresses, blankets and transportation.

Only a handful of embassies have organised shelter for their citizens, among them Ethiopia, Sri Lanka and the Philippines, said Yimer, adding that she is now receiving reports of migrant workers being sexually and physically assaulted while sleeping on the streets. 

“The amount of discrimination we’re facing, it’s unbelievable. Nowhere is safe, especially for the women.”

For now, Lina is one of the luckier ones. A fellow Kenyan migrant worker put her in touch with a local organisation that helped her find shelter in Beirut. But even if she wanted to leave, she currently is unable to do so – her employer still has her passport. 

Due to the country’s kafala labor system, it’s a situation many find themselves in. Foreign workers are bound to a local sponsor and cannot change jobs or leave the country without their permission. In practice, employers have almost total control over workers’ lives, often confiscating passports, preventing cell phone use and depriving them of time off, rights groups say. 

Vionnah Kerubo, another Kenyan domestic worker, is trapped inside her employer’s house in northern Lebanon. She wants to go home, but her employer is refusing to let her leave, she said. The daily bombings are taking their toll. 

“I am ready to finance my departure but my employer says I am bound by the contract and will not release me or return my passport,” she said.

For most, the cost is also a barrier. Flights from Beirut to Nairobi are currently around $500, more than double prior to Israel’s bombardment and unaffordable for women whose average monthly salary is roughly $200.

For those who’ve lived in Lebanon long enough, these are depressingly familiar scenes. During the pandemic, employers left women they employed in front of embassy buildings because they could no longer afford to pay them as the economy imploded.

But when migrant workers turn to their consulates for help, they’ve historically been “unresponsive, corrupt and problematic,” said Salma Sakr, communications manager at the Anti-Racism Movement (ARM), a nonprofit based in Beirut. 

More than one in four migrant domestic workers in Lebanon are from countries that do not have embassies there, relying instead on honorary consuls – unpaid representatives that provide limited and inefficient support, according to a report by ARM. 

“When shit hits the fan… no one will help them be repatriated,” said Sakr. 

Now, like back then, women have turned to each other for support. In one WhatsApp group, viewed by The Fuller Project, women share updates on their situation, contacts and resources to help those in need across the country, including in Beirut, the Beqaa Valley and southern Lebanon, which is under constant Israeli bombardment.

“I don’t want to die here,” said Sharon Akinyi, a 31-year-old caregiver who has been working in Lebanon since 2020. “The explosions, and sounds of gunfire are frightening. I wish the Kenyan government would step in and repatriate us.”

Some countries have started arranging evacuation for their citizens, including Bangladesh and the Philippines. Roughly 4,000 Kenyans have registered for evacuation, according to Roseline Njogu, the country’s Principal Secretary for Diaspora Affairs, and about 100 have already left. 

The deadline to register for evacuation for Kenyans was last Friday due the deteriorating security situation in Lebanon, said Njogu.

As the country lacks a formal labor agreement with Lebanon, the Kenyan government has also warned its migrant workers against travelling to the country because it’s unable to guarantee citizens’ rights or provide clear migration pathways.

For those now sleeping under the roar of Israeli jets, that message is of little help. 

“I had fled poverty only to find myself trapped in this war-torn landscape,” said Lina. “I am in a nightmare with no way out.”