What the COVID-19 era has meant for refugees around the globe
To say that this year has not been easy would be an understatement. The spread of COVID-19 has hung a shadow of uncertainty over the future, forcing us to acclimatize to a lonelier standard of living. Being isolated from friends and family is certainly a challenge, but at least in the face of this illness, Canadians who develop symptoms can rely on the country’s healthcare procedures for their diagnoses and treatment. Globally, however, not everyone has been so fortunate.
Refugees and asylum seekers across the world are facing an even greater challenge than the rest of us. In many cases, their living conditions have prevented them from abiding by the necessary social distancing restrictions or from being tested for COVID-19 after exhibiting symptoms. The Syrian and Palestinian refugee populations in Lebanon are a prime example of this.
Most of these refugees live in camps, with families crammed into temporary structures such as tents. With Lebanon’s ongoing economic crisis, they have limited access to basic necessities, including water and sanitation. The Lebanese government has failed to supply camps with connections to municipal water, forcing them to rely on water trucks. They receive up to nine gallons of water per day, which is dangerously short of the standard 26 gallons per day that is suggested by the World Health Organization. There is simply not enough water to spare for regular cleaning and hygiene maintenance. Water scarcity and overpopulation make Lebanon’s refugee camps particularly susceptible to infection.
Despite the estimated 1.5 million Syrian refugees in Lebanon, 88% of them are undocumented. Lebanon’s residency laws are strict, forcing most of these refugees to lead a life of secrecy and evasion from local authorities. In 2019, the Higher Defence Council of Lebanon introduced several new policies in an attempt to reduce the population of undocumented persons. They approved the demolition of unofficial camps and a more rigorous deportation procedure for refugees without the proper paperwork. This made it especially difficult for refugees to find work and move freely through the country, as there is an extensive network of checkpoints in place. The pandemic has only heightened their fear of discovery. Dr. Feras Alghadban, a local medical professional with the Endless Medical Advantage initiative, expressed extreme concern for his Syrian patients in the Bekaa Valley. Many who develop symptoms of COVID-19 are too scared to officially report it or to seek health care from hospitals that will require paperwork. Additionally, hospitals are now charging extra for COVID-19 testing. The fee varies between medical institutions, but the cost generally makes the test inaccessible to refugees who are already struggling through Lebanon’s economic collapse.
The spread of the virus was contained during Lebanon’s lockdown in the spring, however, after the catastrophic explosion that wracked Beirut in August, people have resumed protesting the government in the streets, causing a second wave of the virus to spread. The Lebanese government tried and failed to implement another lockdown with businesses refusing to close. Since then, the number of cases of COVID-19 has escalated drastically. Today, there are over 50,000 detected cases in total, and the government seems incapable of taking action. Although several outbreaks of COVID-19 have been reported in different refugee camps, we may never know the true extent of the pandemic’s spread amongst the Syrian refugees, as they continue to live in fear of losing their freedom.
Mental health is another concern for displaced populations. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) National Call Centre has received many calls from refugees in Lebanon and Africa experiencing depression and suicidal thoughts because of their living conditions. Filippo Grandi, head of UNHCR, has highlighted how important it is to offer refugees hope in the face of such uncertainty. They cannot see a bright future or a way to shield themselves against the virus while still providing for their families.
Food shortages are a major factor as well. The outbreak of COVID-19 has thrown many countries into an economic recession, which has had a significant effect on food supplies and prices. For refugees who are already struggling to make ends meet, the pandemic is leading them to starvation. All across East-Africa, the spread of COVID-19 has blocked trade routes and created congestion between borders. The average price of a food basket in the Republic of Congo has gone up by 15%. In Rwandan refugee camps, the situation is even worse, as food prices have increased by an alarming 40%. The World Food Programme recently cut half its aid services in Cameroon because of a lack of funding. This also applies to the Nigerian refugees in the area. To support their families, refugees are forced to cut their meal portions or skip meals entirely, which is causing a multitude of health problems.
In Ethiopia, over 50% of refugee children have been diagnosed with severe anemia and other illnesses caused by nutrient deficiency such as kwashiorkor: a lack of the nutrients required for maximum growth and development. This state of malnourishment weakens their immunities, which increases the risk of them catching the virus. Like the Syrian refugees in Lebanon, their overcrowded living conditions and lack of sanitation services also increase their susceptibility to COVID-19.
However, their fear of catching the virus is overshadowed by a more immediate issue: hunger. In Sudan, an estimated 80% of refugees have resorted to either arranged marriages, begging, or prostitution to afford the price of food. Social distancing protocols are being ignored, furthering the spread of the virus. It is a vicious cycle and one that will not be easily broken. The World Food Programme is attempting to raise donations for East Africa, but over three million dollars will be required to provide for everyone in need.
Another refugee population in crisis is in Lesbos, Greece. In July, the medical non-governmental organization Médecins San Frontières was forced by local authorities to shut down its COVID-19 isolation and care centre on the island. Refugees being treated for infectious diseases have had their recovery disrupted by this shutdown, which led to many unnecessary deaths. The organization had set up the care centre in case the pandemic reached the refugee camps, believing that local hospitals would not be able to handle such an outbreak.
When a migrant in Moria — the largest refugee camp in Greece — tested positive for COVID-19, the camp was placed under lockdown. Over thirty others were infected, with relatively no access to healthcare services beyond testing for the virus. Then disaster truly struck. Moria was reduced to ash and rubble overnight as a fire ravaged the camp, leaving its 12,500 inhabitants homeless. Those infected with the virus were forced out of their shelters and onto the streets. The Greek government is currently attempting to move the refugees to closed centres, an initiative that has been criticized by legal workers as an act of immigration detention.
The political turmoil in Greece grows tenser as authorities pressure those displaced by the fire into another refugee camp, despite their collective desire to leave the island. Since the 35 individuals who tested positive are still missing and threaten to expose Greece to another wave of COVID-19, the government is insisting that the refugees from Moria be isolated.
Organizations like the UNHCR have tried to offer refugees emotional and medical support over the past few months, but given the slow recovery of the world’s economy and the indifference of certain governments to the health of their refugee populations, it is unlikely that their hardships are over. Perhaps the worst has passed, or perhaps it is yet to come. In either case, people must remain hopeful for the future. Today’s world may not be ideal, but it is the hope for a better tomorrow that pushes us to carry on.