Young people walk on the corniche in Beirut. (Credit: illustration João Sousa/L'Orient Today)
An envelope quietly left in the living room. Electricity bills promptly settled. Rent paid months ahead. All done without uttering a word.
It’s an unspoken agreement: supporting your loved ones, putting yourself on the back burner. Quietly siphoning off that foreign currency salary without questioning where it goes. Avoiding mentioning that this month, you’ll have to dip into the savings you carefully set aside. Swallowing, once again, the bitter pill of compromise, of delaying dreams, of putting your life on hold: buying a house, pursuing expatriation, or that long-cherished yet unrealized wedding.
In Lebanon, almost every bank account depositor has watched their life savings vanish. With no foreign currency income to even cover the most essential expenses, family support has become more crucial than ever.
Certainly, there are the siblings in Canada or the cousins in Dubai whose financial contributions are vital to the country’s economy. But there are also those children who have remained at home, willing to make sacrifices today to secure a tomorrow, assuming a life that is far from their own, forever in service to others.
It’s as if the weight of this crisis is also being transferred from one generation to the next.
‘We’re brought up this way’
When asked about the changes brought by the crisis, Camille*, a 36-year-old social enterprise manager, shrugs and peers into his wine glass, as though searching for answers.
In addition to damaging his home, the 2020 explosion at the port of Beirut shattered his life. “Following the Aug. 4 explosion, my parents lost everything: their house, their savings, everything,” Camille said. “Although we each had our separate apartments, I made the choice to move back in with them, both to save money and because they needed me.”
By giving up his independence, he can manage to cover the family’s rent and insurance costs, which he estimates to total $15,000 annually.
“It’s customary here for children to help their parents,” he said. “We’re bought up this way.”
This scenario is all too familiar to Ghinwa, aged 31. Once upon a time, the responsibility rested on her father, but he tragically passed away due to illness. Now, the weight of responsibility has shifted to hers.
Employed by a foreign cooperation agency, dividing her time between the family home in Chouf and an apartment in Beirut, she covers all her family’s household expenses.
"The generator, electricity, fuel oil, university fees for my brothers and sisters, food, clothing,” she said. “For the past three years, my entire salary has been dedicated to supporting my family.”
Out of a monthly salary of $1,600, upon which her unemployed mother and two student siblings rely, only $150 remains unallocated. A quarter of it is spent on groceries.
“Then come other expenses like university fees [$300 a month] and rent [$250]. There’s also $200 for transportation and $150 for the generator,” Ghinwa said.
She also allocates an equivalent amount to cover telephone and internet bills. “And all this is without even considering unexpected expenses, such as car maintenance or health-care costs,” she said.
Each year, Ghinwa’s finances just about meet her needs, except during the winter months when she must borrow money to afford heating. Despite these hardships, for her, “saying ‘no’ is not an option.”
“One has to assume one’s responsibilities,” said Charles*, originally from the Aley area. “If I didn’t support my parents, I’d feel as though I’d received everything and given nothing.”
Nevertheless, he concedes, “I didn’t expect taking on such a substantial responsibility at such a young age, and to this extent.”
At just 25 years old, he estimates that he allocates approximately 30 percent of his salary as an NGO project manager to support his family. “There are occasions when I end up with a negative balance at the end of the month, and I have to tap into my savings.”
The cost of sacrifices
Camille had originally planned to settle in France and start a family. However, the necessity of supporting his parents and revitalizing his business put an end to both of these aspirations.
“If it weren’t for Aug. 4, I probably would have had children by now,” Camille said. “I wouldn’t have had to rebuild my life from the ground up.”
As for Ghinwa, she has become uncertain about having children. Until recently, she was engaged to be married. However, nurturing a romantic relationship takes time.
“He was in the same situation as me; we both carried too much responsibility to move forward,” she confided.
This woman in her 30s understands all too well the cost of sacrifices. When her father passed away while she was still pursuing higher education, the financial urgency compelled her to find employment and let go of her own dreams. Her sacrifice enabled her siblings to continue their education, but she never had the chance to return to school herself.
For his part, Charles chose to stay in Lebanon with his parents, even though his professional career would take off better abroad. The compromise is temporary: “I won’t support them like this forever; I know it’s only temporary,” he said. “I have plans and other ambitions.”
This is a wish shared by his parents, who over time have seen the balance change at home.
“A parent’s duty is to support their child, not the other way around,” Charles’ mother said. She is a hospital employee who receives only half her salary in US dollars.
Knowing that her son would not hold back on helping, she tries to be careful with her spending.
“There are certain things I refrain from asking for,” she said. “While our son is supporting us, he’s not thinking about his own future, and we can’t be content with that.”
So, to reassure herself, she places her hope in better times to start anew.
Camille recognizes how difficult the situation is for his parents too. “My father dislikes being indebted,” he said. “Every time I pay for something, he insists he will pay me back. For him, it’s a matter of pride.”
However, for Camille, providing support to his parents is the natural choice. “I’m here to help them, and there’s no need for discussion,” he said.
But for many, aware of the compromises made by both sides, it is likely easier to leave uncomfortable conversations outside the door and and an envelope in the living room.
*Names have been changed
This article was originally published in French in L'Orient-Le Jour. Translation by Sahar Ghoussoub.