The Lebanese Center for Human Rights (CLDH) is a local non-profit, non-partisan Lebanese human rights organization in Beirut that was established by the Franco-Lebanese Movement SOLIDA (Support for Lebanese Detained Arbitrarily) in 2006. SOLIDA has been active since 1996 in the struggle against arbitrary detention, enforced disappearance and the impunity of those perpetrating gross human violations.

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June 19, 2012

The Daily Star - Sudanese maintain hunger strike in Beirut, June 19 2012


By Annie Slemrod
BEIRUT: Some 15 Sudanese refugees have been on hunger strike for over a week outside a U.N. office in Beirut, and they say that if their demands are not met they will die under their cardboard shelters.
Among the strikers’ demands to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees is a speedier process for determining refugee status, legal assistance for those detained for illegal entry or stay, and quicker resettlement to third countries for recognized refugees.
They began their strike last Monday.
There are no more than a few hundred registered Sudanese refugees in Lebanon, but this does not count what could be thousands of others seeking refugee status or simply in the country and off the books. Lebanon has not ratified the 1951 Refugee Convention, which means that refugees cannot legally stay permanently. Those who UNHCR deems legitimate refugees must wait for relocation.
The supine men are protected from the sidewalk and the sun by cardboard. After surviving harrowing experiences at home, Lebanon has become a purgatory of sorts for them. “We are not respected at all,” says Mohammad Abdul-Latif, who describes the indignities of multiple families sharing one room and one toilet, and the difficulties of finding employment.
“We work cleaning toilets and streets, and that [in itself] is not a problem,” he continues, explaining that it is the lack of worth afforded them that is tiring. “They call us derogatory terms – chocolate colored. At school, they tell [our children] they are charcoal.”
He and the other men sharing pillows tell of random street attacks. Most, but not all, of the strikers have refugee status, and some have waited as long as 10 years for news of when they can leave.
They see the UNHCR as having shirked its responsibilities. “We are dying here in Lebanon, and nobody hears us,” says Abdul-Latif. “This is the United Nations; they are supposed to protect the people.”
UNHCR spokesperson Dana Sleiman told The Daily Star that once refugees are cleared for resettlement, the decision about whether and when this happens “is entirely in the hands of the country.” Many Sudanese eventually go to the United States, and she says this is because the country has a larger quota than other countries for accepting refugees.
 “Recently there have been security checks that have delayed the whole acceptance or rejection process [in the United States], which makes it even more frustrating for refugees,” she adds.
Sleiman called the protesters’ frustrations legitimate, and although strikers say the UNHCR employees shuffling in and out of the gate across the Jnah street ignore them, Sleiman says “we know the protesters individually and they have been counseled,” including by a senior protection officer who spoke to them at the beginning of their campaign. She said UNHCR is currently “looking into their cases.”
But this assurance might not be enough for the protesters, three of whom were hospitalized Sunday and later released. Two of those hospitalized have pre-existing conditions that require medication.
Rola Yasmine a registered nurse who examined the hunger strikers, said that there are “lot of issues in terms of dehydration and people who are urinating infrequently,” which could lead to severe complications.
The strikers are drinking water, as well as powder that restores vital nutrients. In general, she said people refusing food but drinking can last around three to four weeks before muscle and bone mass begin to deteriorate, but “because of the heat [the fast] could take its toll a bit faster.”
It is not only the strikers who are paying the price of the strike. During the day, wives, children, and supporters of the strikers also rest nearby. A group of three wives were fired after their employers saw them on television reiterating the strikers’ demands. Not all the women are from Sudan; Dora is from Sri Lanka and says she can’t go home because her Christian family rejected her decision to marry a Muslim.
Her husband’s application for refugee status was denied in 1998. Hamed Mohammad, who shows a bullet scar on his leg, fled Sudan after serving time for refusing conscription, hoping instead to fight in a militia opposing South Sudan’s independence.
But now he sits in solidarity with men from Sudan, both North and South. Their homes read like the datelines of news bulletins: Darfour, Abyei. Here, explains Haroun Abdul-Aziz, once of Darfour, political and regional differences are obscured. “All of us are suffering here ... it isn’t like people in the North are safe, or in the South. The Sudanese here [in Lebanon], we don’t recognize this division between us. We are all Sudanese refugees.”
Nearby, Abdul-Latif vows to refuse food until his demands are met. He is composed, especially for a man who hasn’t eaten in over a week. “I will continue until I die ... I can’t go anywhere. I will die here.” A line of tired faces nods in assent.


http://www.dailystar.com.lb/News/Local-News/2012/Jun-19/177302-sudanese-maintain-hunger-strike-in-beirut.ashx#axzz1yDcCuqbU

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