Maha Mamo, a stateless refugee in Brazil, talks about the challenges of a life without nationality
As a child, Maha Mamo wasn’t allowed to go on school trips outside of Lebanon. When the other children left on buses to Syria or Jordan, she remained behind. And even though she was one of the best at basketball, she could never represent her country in any competition. Why? Because she didn’t have a nationality.
Maha was declared stateless at birth because of both Syria and Lebanon’s laws on nationality and because the automatic right to nationality through birth in Lebanon, where Maha was born, is not permitted. So Maha’s only chance was to acquire a nationality through her parents.
The only problem? A Syrian mother, because she is female, cannot legitimately pass her nationality on to her child which left Maha’s father as her only hope for acquiring nationality. However, in Lebanon, where inter-faith marriages are illegal, Maha’s Christian father could not legally marry her Muslim mother meaning Maha and her siblings, were effectively born out of wedlock. Since Syrian men cannot transmit nationality to children born out of wedlock, Maha and her siblings were born stateless.
For children born in the same circumstances as Maha, the path to adulthood comes riddled with problems and frustrations as the usual services required for a child, especially education and health, are only attainable through relying on the good will of individual people. “I had to receive a special exemption to pass my High School certificate,” says Maha whose parents had to beg her school director to allow her and her two siblings to receive an education.
After graduation, only one university out of the many she had applied to accepted her. But not to study medicine, which was her dream. “Being stateless hurts much more when you know you are capable of doing so much,” says Maha. “You can’t realize your potential if you are not given the right to exist.”
In her mid-20s, tired of writing letters to ministers begging for a nationality and moving from one job to another for fear of getting caught without the right papers, Maha, started thinking that her solution lay abroad. She inquired about resettlement via UNHCR or getting permission to travel abroad but her efforts were fruitless. The visa-processing officer from Canada provided Maha with one of her favourite responses: ‘Maha, we would love to have you in Canada, but where would we stamp your visa?’ It was only after her sister sent letters to every embassy in Lebanon that they got a positive response from Brazil. On the 19th September 2014, for the first time in her life, Maha had the legal means to leave Lebanon.
In Brazil, Maha was able to obtain a six-month visa on account of the fact that she was of Syrian heritage and therefore had a possible refugee claim. On May 2016, with the help of UNHCR in Brazil, Maha and her family obtained refugee status in Brazil, giving her similar rights to that of a Brazilian resident but without giving her a nationality. This was the first time Maha could actually hold an I-D card that gave her rights. “When I had it in my hands, I cried and screamed and then asked my sister whether she was sure the document was real…” she said. “I couldn’t believe it!”
One month later, Maha’s brother Eddy was killed in a violent robbery in Brazil. “I remember that the first question my brother had asked when he received his refugee status was whether this would allow him to return back home to Lebanon,” she said. To honour his wishes, Maha took her brother’s body back to Lebanon for burial there, in the place Eddy always called his home country. “The saddest part is that Eddy was never able to know what it felt like to be able to legally travel back home.”
If anything, Eddy’s death has given Maha, now a prominent spokesperson for stateless people in Brazil and around the world, even more determination to acquire a nationality and to help others in her situation to do the same. A regular panelist at UNHCR workshops, Maha has become part of a co-ordinated international effort to change laws and practices on nationality spearheaded by UNHCR’s #IBelong campaign which has recently celebrated its 2 year anniversary. Next year, the campaign’s objectives lie in providing equal nationality rights for all, which includes removing gender discrimination from nationality laws-something that Maha, for obvious reasons, feels very passionately about.
“I want everyone to know the hell I have lived through and I know one day the president of Brazil will hear my story and give me Brazilian nationality,” Maha stated empathically. In Brazil, naturalization through residence can take up to 15 years but Maha is hopeful she will be granted hers before this. She adds “ when I get my nationality will scream! I will cry! I will update my status on Facebook! I will travel to Walt Disney! To Paris! To Italy! All over the world!” she added enthusiastically. “I will shout as loud as I can: ‘I finally EXIST!’”
If you want to know more about how you can make a difference to the lives of people like Maha, join our #IBelong campaign to end statelessness in 10 years.