In their desperation, children recounted their terrifying experiences of fleeing bombings with their parents. As I walked through various displaced neighborhoods, I saw the shattered faces and fear in their eyes. They left behind their homes, belongings, and neighborhoods to survive.
SAIDA, Lebanon — On September 23, 2024, our lives came to a standstill as Israel launched a war against Lebanon. People living near the borders abandoned their homes and belongings, facing an uncertain future. As I sat at home facing the grim reality, I realized I must act.
Determined to assist those in need, I packed a few bags, left my house, and bought several boxes of juices and croissants. Then, I approached a big crowd trapped in a massive traffic jam for two days. One by one, I gave out the boxes until none were left.
As I distributed juice and croissants to the crowd, I noticed their distant expressions, each lost in thought. In a surprise, they returned my efforts with warm smiles. Soon after, my mother and I began answering calls from displaced friends and relatives who needed help with essentials like housing, mattresses, food, water, clothes, and shelter.
To address the growing need, I contacted friends and started a campaign to gather donations and help as many people as possible. In southern Lebanon, we faced a dire situation. Recognizing the urgent crises, we launched a social media appeal, urging donations with the message: “Help us to help.” We initially collected money from our friends and family, and each day, our initiative grew.
We assembled food bags filled with oil, rice, tuna, milk, sugar, salt, and cleaning supplies. As the weeks passed, we increased our efforts to meet the growing demand. To strengthen our efforts, we evaluated the needs of individuals in this vulnerable situation. While visiting their homes, we gathered data on the number of individuals in each household, including women, children, babies, and men. At this time, we uncovered the immense destruction of the war.
As I entered the overcrowded homes, shock overwhelmed me. We encountered 25, 30, or even 35 people squeezed into spaces meant for one family, now crammed with five families. As soon as we opened the doors to the rooms, the images flooded over me. A mother sat at a makeshift table with her four young children. As we offered our support, she conveyed her anguish and expressed gratitude for the help they were receiving. With a heavy heart, she shared how they spent nights on the streets before finding refuge.
In their desperation, children recounted their terrifying experiences of fleeing bombings with their parents. As I walked through various displaced neighborhoods, I saw the shattered faces and fear in their eyes. They left behind their homes, belongings, and neighborhoods to survive. Some lost family members, and their grief lingered heavily in the air as they fought to remain strong. I also observed sick individuals sleeping on thin blankets while children ran barefoot, wearing only the clothes they put on when they escaped.
As the children shared their stories, I listened to their excitement about returning to school and reuniting with friends they missed dearly. Their anxious voices spoke of the friends they longed to see and the experiences they wanted to share. Meanwhile, tears filled my eyes as I felt burdened. How could I explain to them what was happening when I struggled to understand it myself?
After a lifetime of building their lives, elderly individuals, heartbroken from leaving their homes overnight, sought refuge in neighboring towns. They accepted our offerings with trembling hands. Despite their difficult circumstances, they showed remarkable resilience, supporting one another as we assisted. Acknowledging their urgent needs, I felt a deep connection with them.
After returning, we analyzed the data to determine the average number of houses and people in each area. Diligently, my friends and I worked to prepare a bag of food for each group. In the first phase, we targeted 25 houses, dividing them into two groups, A and B, to ensure daily coverage. We set aside Saturdays for brief meetings to review our plan, funding, and emerging needs.
Soon, neighbors shared additional information about more families in need. In a neighboring area, displaced families gathered in makeshift housing, enduring similar conditions. Some slept in their cars for weeks after fleeing immense destruction and witnessing their homes turn to rubble. As I observed everything collapse, I wondered when it would all end.
Despite the circumstances, each neighbor offered what they could to support one another. We are supporting a church that established a children’s library packed with schoolbooks. In this improvised shelter, a playground provided the little ones with a chance to reclaim a spark of childhood.
Around 20 children, guided by two teachers—one teaching Arabic and the other covering English, mathematics, physics, and science—sought calm and normalcy amid the harsh realities of forced displacement. Listening to their voices resonate through stories and the gentle hum of the classroom created a beautiful experience.
Several days ago, bombs destroyed my grandmother’s village in the south. The beautiful family home, which stood for four generations, now lies in dust and rubble, leaving only memories behind. This immense loss profoundly affected us. In that devastated area, 25 to 30 survivors remain without any resources. With winter approaching and freezing temperatures looming, they urgently need shelter, clothes, shoes, mattresses, and blankets. Actively, we are working to provide them with these necessities.
People are supporting us, and it feels wonderful to be so hands-on. However, we occasionally reach our limits, and though it is painful, we cannot provide further assistance, which weighs heavily on us. We began connecting with other networks to link those in need with those who can help. When someone nearby offers assistance, it makes a significant difference. This is how families who lost everything overnight manage to survive.
Today, the conflict looms larger and more intensely than the last war I recall from the distant sketches of my childhood. According to my parents, new technologies are wreaking havoc, making bombings crueler, more widespread, and significantly more precise, which poses greater dangers. What is happening now feels far more powerful. We live in constant fear, which follows us like a shadow. At any moment, we can hear a bomb and then face an attack.
In southern Lebanon, people die every day. Many of our friends, family members, and neighbors lose their homes and lives to bombings. This reality breeds constant anxiety and stress, as explosions can strike at any moment, threatening us or our loved ones. We find ourselves in drop zones, where a building can suddenly get hit, resulting in death. This feeling resembles walking on the edge of an abyss or a narrow ledge, where any place can become a target.
Dealing with this emotional burden drives us to work harder in finding solutions that could help others while reducing our own risk. At times, we identify a spot between the displaced shelters and ourselves to deliver supplies, attempting to create a false sense of security. Continuously, we strategize about these efforts. Even when we want to donate, we worry that banks or intermediaries might be attacked, disrupting support. Since we are not working now, our families send us money.
The Israeli army typically launches assaults at specific times, often after two powerful bomb blasts about an hour earlier. These attacks continue until early morning. Afterward, I struggle to force myself to sleep. The next day, I wake up early to complete my tasks before the cycle begins again. To cope with the war, I concentrate on helping others, drawing strength from those efforts. Each day brings greater challenges as we welcome more displaced people.
Before the war, my life revolved around work, family, and friends, and I planned to buy a house. Now, those memories feel distant. I often contemplate the future, wondering how we can return to peace.
The word “peace” took on a new meaning for me; I long for it, as it holds the key to living, dreaming, creating, and growing again. With each bomb, drone, and sonic boom, I shudder, overwhelmed as my body reacts in ways I never experienced. I question whether we will survive the next strike or if we do, where we will go with our dwindling resources.
In response to this harrowing situation, initiatives like ours serve as lifelines for the displaced. It embodies solidarity transcending cultures, nationalities, and religions. Today, we unite to support one another, fueled with a shared determination to tackle these challenges together.