BHANNINE, Lebanon -- Ramadan, which began Tuesday, comes as Syrian refugees' life of displacement has gotten even harder amid their host country Lebanon's economic woes. The struggle can be more pronounced during the holy month, when fasting is typically followed by festive feasting to fill empty stomachs.
"High prices are killing people," said Raed Mattar, a 24-year-old Syrian living in Lebanon with his wife and two children. "We may fast all day and then break our fast on only an onion," he said, using an Arabic proverb usually meant to convey disappointment after long patience.
Lebanon, home to more than 1 million Syrian refugees, is reeling from an economic crisis exacerbated by the pandemic and an enormous explosion that destroyed parts of the capital last August.
Citing the impact of the compounded crises, a U.N. study said the proportion of Syrian refugee families living under the extreme poverty line -- the equivalent of roughly $25 a month per person by current black market rates -- swelled to 89% in 2020, compared with 55% the previous year.
More people resorted to reducing the size or number of meals, it said. Half the Syrian refugee families surveyed suffer from food insecurity, up from 28% at the same time in 2019, it said.
Refugees are not alone in their pain. The economic turmoil, which is the culmination of years of corruption and mismanagement, has squeezed the Lebanese, plunging 55% of the country's 5 million people into poverty and shuttering businesses.
As jobs became scarce, Mattar said more Lebanese competed for the low-paying construction and plumbing jobs previously left largely for foreign workers like himself. Wages lost their value as the local currency, fixed to the dollar for decades, collapsed.
Nerves are fraying. Mattar was among hundreds displaced from an informal camp last year after a group of Lebanese set it on fire following a fight between a Syrian and a Lebanese.
His family had to move twice after that, once when a Lebanese landowner doubled the rent, telling Mattar he can afford it since he gets aid as a refugee. Their current tent is in Bhannine.
This year, Syrians marked the 10th anniversary of the start of the uprising-turned-civil war in their country. Many refugees say they cannot return because their homes were destroyed or they fear retribution, either for being considered opposition or for evading military conscription.
For Ramadan, Rahaf al-Saghir, another Syrian in Lebanon, was determined to stop her daughters from seeing photos of other people's iftar meals. "I don't want them to compare themselves to others," she said. "When you are fasting in Ramadan, you crave a lot of things."
The start of Ramadan, the first since al-Saghir's husband died, brought tears. Her oldest daughters were used to their father waking them for suhoor, the pre-dawn meal before the day's fast, which he'd prepare.
This year, their first iftar was simple -- french fries, soup and fattoush salad.
Before violence uprooted them from Syria, Ramadan felt festive. Al-Saghir would cook and exchange visits with family and neighbors, gathering around scrumptious savory and sweet dishes.
Amid her struggles, she turns to her faith.
"I keep praying to God," she said. "May our prayers in Ramadan be answered and may our situation change. ... May a new path open for us."
