AMMAN: Thousands of elderly women in Beirut whose lives were upended by a huge blast in August now face destitution, as Lebanon buckles under financial crisis and a COVID-19 lockdown, charities said.
The United Nations (UN) and aid agencies said older women living alone made up almost one in 10 households in areas hit by the explosion, which wrecked swathes of Beirut, killed 200 people, injured thousands more and displaced 300,000.
“A mental health hotline responder noted a rise in calls from older people contemplating suicide,” UN Women and others said in an analysis, calling for emergency aid in Beirut to better target potentially “invisible” elderly people.
“Because of higher rates of physical disabilities among older people, combined with increased inability to leave their homes, limited economic means and fears around COVID-19, older women are struggling to access assistance.”
With almost 100,000 COVID-19 cases and some 700 deaths since February, Lebanon announced a new coronavirus lockdown this week to stem rising infections, with hospitals unable to find beds to admit critical cases, caretaker prime minister Hassan Diab said.
Before the August explosion, which officials blamed on unsafely stored ammonium nitrate, Lebanon was already grappling with worsening poverty, the scars of civil war three decades ago and a financial crisis rooted in corruption and mismanagement.
Some elderly people in Lebanon feel they are a burden on younger relatives, charities said, as there is no state pension in the Middle Eastern country and only retirees who were in formal employment receive financial support in old age.
Old women are often left in poverty. Lebanon has one of the world’s lowest rates of women in the workforce, with less than one in three in paid employment, according to UN Women.
“Because they are women, they are less likely to have worked throughout their lives, which means they are less likely to have savings, they are less likely to have a pension,” said Rachel Dore-Weeks, head of UN Women in Lebanon.
“Because of this, they are less likely to have the economic resources to react, respond and recover from the crisis.”
Widows are often unable to support themselves financially so they rely on their children, who then count on their children to do the same for them in old age, said Maya Ibrahimchah, founder of Beit el Baraka, a non-profit that supports elderly people.
“We don’t want parents to always be a burden on their kids,” she told the Thomson Reuters Foundation.
“These three post-war generations are not living. They are surviving in order to take care of the previous generations.”
Beit el Baraka was one of the leaders of Beirut’s large community-led effort after the blast to help rebuild homes, provide aid, medication and psychological support.
One of its main goals is to help elderly people with rent and utility payments so that they are not forced out of their homes into cheaper accommodation or on to the streets.
“It’s very difficult at 70 to leave your whole life, your friends and neighbors behind, and go rent a small room in a poor area where you don’t know anyone,” Ibrahimchah said.
“(We) need to make sure that they can stay in their homes and be taken care of until this economic crisis is over.”
Plans to expand social protection schemes to tackle poverty, including a universal state pension, were put on hold after the government resigned in the wake of the August blast, said Assem Abi Ali of the social affairs ministry.
“One of its main components addresses the issue of caring for the elderly through a pension scheme ... in order to protect them from destitution, hunger and homelessness,” said Abi Ali who supervises its crisis response plan, which began in 2015.
Working with humanitarian groups, the ministry helped deliver food aid, wheelchairs and crutches to elderly and disabled people after the blast, Abi Ali said.
But Dore-Weeks said more needed to be done to provide elderly women, disproportionately living in poverty and alone, with medical and emotional support during the pandemic.
“There is a huge need for tailored psychosocial support for these communities and that is a real challenge in the context of COVID-19 when so many face-to-face interactions are deemed unsafe,” she said.
In blast-hit Beirut, ‘invisible’ elderly women face destitution
https://arab.news/w3mva
In blast-hit Beirut, ‘invisible’ elderly women face destitution
- There is no state pension in Lebanon and only retirees who were in formal employment receive financial support in old age
- The country has one of the world’s lowest rates of women in the workforce
‘Like a dream’: Photographer’s return to Syria
- AFP photographer Sameer Al-Doumy never dreamed he would be able to return to the hometown in Syria that he escaped through a tunnel seven years ago after it was besieged by Bashar Assad’s forces
DOUMA: AFP photographer Sameer Al-Doumy never dreamed he would be able to return to the hometown in Syria that he escaped through a tunnel seven years ago after it was besieged by Bashar Assad’s forces.
Douma, once a rebel stronghold near Damascus, suffered terribly for its defiance of the former regime, and was the victim of a particularly horrific chemical weapons attack in 2018.
“It is like a dream for me today to find myself back here,” he said.
“The revolution was a dream, getting out of a besieged town and of Syria was a dream, as it is now being able to go back.
“We didn’t dare to imagine that Assad could fall because his presence was so anchored in us,” said the 26-year-old.
“My biggest dream was to return to Syria at a moment like this after 13 years of war, just as it was my biggest dream in 2017 to leave for a new life,” said the award-winning photographer who has spent the last few years covering the migrant crisis for AFP’s Lille bureau in northern France.
“I left when I was 19,” said Sameer, all of whose immediate family are in exile, apart from his sister.
“This is my home, all my memories are here, my childhood, my adolescence. I spent my life in Douma in this house my family had to flee and where my cousin now lives.
“The house hasn’t changed, although the top floor was destroyed in the bombardments.
“The sitting room is still the same, my father’s beloved library hasn’t changed. He would settle down there every morning to read the books that he had collected over the years — it was more important to him than his children.
“I went looking for my childhood stuff that my mother kept for me but I could not find it. I don’t know if it exists anymore.
“I haven’t found any comfort here, perhaps because I haven’t found anyone from my family or people I was close to. Some have left the country and others were killed or have disappeared.
“People have been through so much over the last 13 years, from the peaceful protests of the revolution, to the war and the siege and then being forced into exile.
“My memories are here but they are associated with the war which started when I was 13. What I lived through was hard, and what got me through was my family and friends, and they are no longer here.
“The town has changed. I remember the bombed buildings, the rubble. Today life has gone back to a kind of normal as the town waits for people to return.”
Douma was besieged by Assad’s forces from the end of 2012, with Washington blaming his forces for a chemical attack in the region that left more than 1,400 people dead the following year.
Sameer’s career as a photojournalist began when he and his brothers began taking photos of what was happening around them.
“After the schools closed I started to go out filming the protests with my brothers here in front of the main mosque, where the first demonstration in Douma was held after Friday prayers, and where the first funerals of the victims were also held.
“I set up my camera on the first floor of a building which overlooks the mosque and then changed my clothes afterwards so I would not be recognized and arrested. Filming the protests was banned.
“When the security forces attacked, I would take the SIM card out of my phone and the memory card out of my camera and put them in my mouth.”
That way he could swallow them if he was caught.
In May 2017, Sameer fled through a tunnel dug by the rebels and eventually found himself in the northern rebel enclave of Idlib with former fighters and their families.
“I took the name Sameer Al-Doumy (Sameer from Douma) to affirm that I belonged somewhere,” even though he was exiled, he said. “I stopped using my first name, Motassem, to protect my family living in Damascus.
“In France I have a happy and stable life. I have a family, friends and a job. But I am not rooted to any particular place. When I went back to Syria, I felt I had a country.
“When you are abroad, you get used to the word ‘refugee’ and you get on with your life and make a big effort to integrate in a new society. But your country remains the place that accepts you as you are. You don’t have to prove anything.
“When I left Syria, I never thought one day I would be able to return. When the news broke, I couldn’t believe it. It was impossible Assad could fall. Lots of people are still in shock and are afraid. It is hard to get your head around how a regime that filled people with so much fear could collapse.
“When I returned to the Al-Midan district of Damascus (which had long resisted the regime), I could not stop myself crying.
“I am sad not to be with my loved ones. But I know they will return, even if it takes a while.
“My dream now is that one day we will all come together again in Syria.”
Israel says intercepted two projectiles fired from central Gaza
- The military said it has intercepted several rockets fired from northern Gaza in recent days
JERUSALEM: Israel’s military said two projectiles were fired from Gaza on Wednesday in the first minutes of the new year, one of which was intercepted while the other landed in an open area.
Alert sirens sounded around midnight (2200 GMT) in the western Negev, the Israeli military said, and “two projectiles were identified crossing from the central Gaza Strip into Israeli territory.”
“One projectile was successfully intercepted and the second projectile fell in an open area,” the army said on Telegram.
The military said it has intercepted several rockets fired from northern Gaza in recent days.
Since October, Israeli operations in Gaza have focused on the north, with officials saying their land and air offensive aims to prevent Hamas from regrouping.
The Gaza war was triggered by the unprecedented Hamas-led October 7, 2023, attack on Israel, which resulted in 1,208 deaths — mostly civilians — according to an AFP tally of Israeli official figures.
Israel’s retaliatory military campaign has killed more than 45,500 people in Gaza, a majority of them civilians, according to figures from the Hamas-run territory’s health ministry.
The UN considers those figures reliable.
New year hope reigns in a Damascus freed from Assad
- More than half a million people died in the 13-year civil war as the country split into different regions controlled by various warring parties
DAMASCUS: Umayyad Square in Damascus hummed to the throngs of people brandishing “revolution” flags as Syria saw in the new year with “hope” following 13 years of civil war.
Gunshots rang out from Mount Qasioun overlooking the capital where hundreds of people gazed up at fireworks, an AFP reporter at the square saw.
It was the first new year’s celebration without an Assad in power for more than 50 years after the fall of Bashar Assad in December.
“Long live Syria, Assad has fallen,” shouted some children.
Despite the revelry, soldiers patrolled the streets of Damascus, less than a month after Assad’s rapid demise.
The green, white and black “revolution” flag with its three red stars flies all over the capital.
Such a sight — the symbol of the Syrian people’s uprising against the Assad dynasty’s iron-fisted rule — was unthinkable a month ago.
The revolutionary song “Lift your head, you are a free Syrian” by Syrian singer Assala Nasri rang out loud on Umayyad Square.
“Every year, we aged suddenly by 10 years,” taxi driver Qassem Al-Qassem, 34, told AFP in reference to the tough living conditions in a country whose economy collapsed under Assad.
“But with the fall of regime, all our fears have dissipated,” he added.
“Now I have a lot of hope. But all we want now is peace.”
More than half a million people died in the 13-year civil war as the country split into different regions controlled by various warring parties.
Many families are still waiting for news of loved ones who disappeared under Assad’s rule, during which time tens of thousands of prisoners disappeared.
“I hope that Syria in 2025 will be non-denominational, pluralist, for everyone, without exception,” said Havan Mohammad, a Kurdish student from the northeast studying pharmacy in the capital.
Ocalan: PKK chief held in solitary on Turkish prison island
- A Marxist-inspired group, the PKK is considered a terror organization by Turkiye, the United States, the European Union and most of Turkiye’s Western allies
ISTANBUL: Abdullah Ocalan, the jailed founder of Kurdish militant group the PKK, is hailed by many Kurds as an icon, but within wider Turkish society many see him as a terrorist who deserves to die.
On Saturday, Ocalan, who has been held in solitary confinement in Turkiye since 1999, received his first political visit in nearly a decade amid signs of a tentative thaw in relations with the Turkish government.
The move came two months after the leader of the far-right MHP, a close ally of President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, offered Ocalan an unprecedented olive branch if he would publicly renounce terror.
In a message sent back with his visitors, two lawmakers from the pro-Kurd opposition DEM party, Ocalan — the man who embodies the decades-long Kurdish rebellion against the Turkish government — said he was “ready” to embrace efforts to end the conflict.
“I am ready to take the necessary positive steps and make the call,” said the 75-year-old former guerrilla, who also received his first family visit in four years on October 23.
During that visit, Ocalan said he had the necessary clout to shift the Kurdish question “from an arena of conflict and violence to one of law and politics.”
Ankara’s tentative bid to reopen dialogue nearly a decade after peace efforts collapsed comes amid a major regional adjustment following the ouster of Syria’s Bashar Assad.
Ocalan founded the PKK — the Kurdistan Workers’ Party — in 1978. It spearheaded a brutal insurgency that has killed tens of thousands in its fight for independence and, more recently, broader autonomy in Turkiye’s mostly Kurdish southeast.
A Marxist-inspired group, the PKK is considered a terror organization by Turkiye, the United States, the European Union and most of Turkiye’s Western allies.
After years on the run, Ocalan was arrested on February 15, 1999 in Kenya following a Hollywood-style operation by Turkish security forces.
He was sentenced to death, but escaped the gallows when Turkiye abolished capital punishment in 2004. He has since been held in an isolation cell on Imrali island in the Sea of Marmara.
For many Kurds, he is hero they call “Apo” (uncle). But Turks often call him “bebek katili” (baby killer) for his ruthless tactics, including the bombing of civilian targets.
Tentative moves to resolve Turkiye’s “Kurdish problem” began in 2008. Several years later, Ocalan got involved in the first unofficial peace talks, approved when Erdogan was premier.
Seen as the world’s largest stateless people, Kurds were left without a country when the Ottoman Empire collapsed after World War I.
Although most live in Turkiye, where they make up around a fifth of the population, the Kurds are also spread across Syria, Iraq and Iran.
For hard-line nationalists who support the post-Ottoman idea of “Turkishness,” the Kurds simply do not exist.
And not all Kurds back the ideas, let alone the methods, of the PKK.
Led by Hakan Fidan, Erdogan’s spy chief turned foreign minister, the talks raised hopes of ending the insurgency in favor of an equitable solution for Kurdish rights within Turkiye’s borders.
But they collapsed in July 2015, reigniting one of the deadliest chapters in the conflict.
After a suicide attack on pro-Kurdish demonstrators attributed to Islamic State (IS) group jihadists in October 2015, the PKK accused Ankara of collaborating with IS and resumed its violence with a vengeance.
Turkiye’s widescale use of combat drones has pushed most Kurdish fighters into Iraq and Syria, where Ankara has continued raids.
The government has defended its de facto silencing of Ocalan by saying he failed to convince the PKK of the need for peace, raising doubts about how much sway he has over the group.
Ocalan was born on April 4, 1948, one of six siblings in a mixed Turkish-Kurdish peasant family in Omerli village, in Turkiye’s southeast. His mother tongue is Turkish.
He became a left-wing activist while studying politics at university in Ankara, and did his first stint in prison in 1972.
He set up the PKK six years later, then spent years on the run, launching the movement’s armed struggle in 1984.
Taking refuge in Syria, he led the fight from there, causing friction between Damascus and Ankara.
Forced out in 1998 and with the net closing in, Ocalan raced from Russia to Italy to Greece in search of a haven, ending up at the Greek consulate in Kenya, where US agents got wind of his presence and tipped off ally Ankara.
Lured into a vehicle and told he would be flown to the Netherlands, Ocalan was instead handed over to Turkish military commandos and flown home on a private plane to face trial.
A new year dawns on a Middle East torn by conflict and change
- The last year was a dramatic one in the Middle East, bringing calamity to some and hope to others
DAMASCUS: In Damascus, the streets were buzzing with excitement Tuesday as Syrians welcomed in a new year that seemed to many to bring a promise of a brighter future after the unexpected fall of Bashar Assad’s government weeks earlier.
While Syrians in the capital looked forward to a new beginning after the ousting of Assad, the mood was more somber along Beirut’s Mediterranean promenade, where residents shared cautious hopes for the new year, reflecting on a country still reeling from war and ongoing crises.
War-weary Palestinians in Gaza who lost their homes and loved ones in 2024 saw little hope that 2025 would bring an end to their suffering.
The last year was a dramatic one in the Middle East, bringing calamity to some and hope to others. Across the region, it felt foolish to many to attempt to predict what the next year might bring.
In Damascus, Abir Homsi said she is optimistic about a future for her country that would include peace, security and freedom of expression and would bring Syrian communities previously divided by battle lines back together.
“We will return to how we once were, when people loved each other, celebrated together whether it is Ramadan or Christmas or any other holiday — no restricted areas for anyone,” she said.
But for many, the new year and new reality carried with it reminders of the painful years that came before.
Abdulrahman Al-Habib, from the eastern Syrian city of Deir Ezzor, had come to Damascus in hopes of finding relatives who disappeared after being arrested under Assad’s rule. He was at the capital’s Marjeh Square, where relatives of the missing have taken to posting photos of their loved ones in search of any clue to their whereabouts.
“We hope that in the new year, our status will be better ... and peace will prevail in the whole Arab world,” he said.
In Lebanon, a tenuous ceasefire brought a halt to fighting between Israel and the Hezbollah militant group a little over a month ago. The country battered by years of economic collapse, political instability and a series of calamities since 2019, continues to grapple with uncertainty, but the truce has brought at least a temporary return to normal life.
Some families flocked to the Mzaar Ski Resort in the mountains northeast of Beirut on Tuesday to enjoy the day in the snow even though the resort had not officially opened.
“What happened and what’s still happening in the region, especially in Lebanon recently, has been very painful,” said Youssef Haddad, who came to ski with his family. “We have great hope that everything will get better.”
On Beirut’s seaside corniche, Mohammad Mohammad from the village of Marwahin in southern Lebanon was strolling with his three children.
“I hope peace and love prevail next year, but it feels like more (challenges) await us,” he said.
Mohammad was among the tens of thousands displaced during more than a year of conflict between Hezbollah and Israel. Now living in Jadra, a town that was also bombarded during the conflict, he awaits the end of a 60-day period, after which the Israeli army is required to withdraw under the conditions of a French and US-brokered ceasefire.
“Our village was completely destroyed,” Mohammad said. His family would spend a quiet evening at home, he said. This year “was very hard on us. I hope 2025 is better than all the years that passed.”
In Gaza, where the war between Hamas and Israel has killed more than 45,500 Palestinians, brought massive destruction and displaced most of the enclave’s population, few saw cause for optimism in the new year.
“The year 2024 was one of the worst years for all Palestinian people. It was a year of hunger, displacement, suffering and poverty,” said Nour Abu Obaid, a displaced woman from northern Gaza.
Obaid, whose 10-year-old child was killed in a strike in the so-called “humanitarian zone” in Muwasi, said she didn’t expect anything good in 2025. “The world is dead,” she said. “We do not expect anything, we expect the worst.”
The war was sparked by the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas-led attack on southern Israel in which militants killed around 1,200 people and abducted some 250 others.
Ismail Salih, who lost his home and livelihood, expressed hopes for an end to the war in 2025 so that Gaza’s people can start rebuilding their lives.
The year that passed “was all war and all destruction,” he said. “Our homes are gone, our trees are gone, our livelihood is lost.”
In the coming year, Salih said he hopes that Palestinians can “live like the rest of the people of the world, in security, reassurance and peace.”
