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| Child beggars exploited by organized
gangs ‘It is a very hierarchical network’ |
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| Jessy Chahine Daily Star staff Ayman is a child for whom the street, more than his family, has become his real home. The little boy is five or six years old. That’s what he was told, that’s all he knows. Ayman, like thousands of other children his age, is a street beggar. “Programmed” to beggary, these children would do anything to have that “mitayn wa khamsin” – LL250. “Juvenile beggars are this country’s latest ‘fashion’ nowadays,” says Rana Khoury, a Lebanese-American sociologist who has just arrived to Lebanon to spend the summer. “Two years ago, I remember it was the ‘carrying baby women’ who were the stars of the streets. I guess the beggary networks in Lebanon are in a constant ‘technical update,’” Khoury bitterly jokes. Khoury, who has spent more than 10 years working with street children, describes these beggars’ world as a “harsh cosmos” where there is no protection, supervision, or direction from responsible, well-meaning adults. Subjected to physical abuse by their so-called “parents,” these children are forced to fend for themselves from a very young age, having to contribute to the family income. They thus become “children on the street,” working as shoeshine boys, or as vendors of sweets, lottery tickets and newspapers. They clean the windshields of cars stuck in traffic, perform little stunts, and so on. To improve their meager daily take, they may also beg – and if this is not enough, they steal. Mostly Syrian, Palestinian, Kurds, and Egyptians, the children’s age varies from four to 12 years old. “Beggary in Lebanon is very well organized,” Khoury said. “It is a very hierarchal network, more like a pyramid. It’s a world on its own, with its leaders, its followers, its victims and its heroes.” These children, she explains, are divided into groups, with each child designated a certain street, like Bliss or Monnot. Furthermore, each group of children is chaperoned by an “adult,” who is often “undercover,” such as a lottery ticket or corn seller, or a shoeshine man. Each street’s groups are conducted by a “leader” who, in turn, is supervised by a “guru” – holder of the highest level of authority in the beggars’ society. “Much like the president of the republic for us,” Khoury explains, “this guru is their president.” Begging is becoming a serious humanitarian problem. Deprived of any sort of hygiene or healthcare, these children live with their so-called “parents’’ – who actually are their employers – in ghettos around Nabaa and Basta, as well as other regions in the poorest suburbs of the capital. The majority of these children, like Ayman, have been abandoned by their biological parents at birth, or even worse, were sold to “gurus” in return of a few pounds. And of course, school is forbidden to everyone. The children, just like their masters, are illiterate, except when it comes to money. “I know the LL500 coin is silver, thick and heavy,” little Ayman says, “while the LL250 is brownish, thin and light. The dark penny is a LL100 and the tiny one is the LL50.” This is the highest level of education that Ayman may ever reach. Don’t ask for more. Nonetheless, “these children are illiterate, but not stupid,” Khoury explains. “On the contrary, some of them, if not all, are very sharp and witty. They know how to play on your heart strings with kind words and warm tears.” The average amount of money a “witty little beggar” can make in a day, she says, is around LL50,000. “Yet sadly enough, each child has the right to feed upon LL1,000 per day. That’s a maximum. And the leader keeps a very sharp eye on the money consumption of his troupe.” And as if the day’s troubles are not enough, “these children often cannot go home in the evening and frequently spend a few nights on the street, either because their working day is overly long and home is too far away, or because they may be unwelcome because they didn’t bring home enough money.” |
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