As large-scale Israeli bombardment continues in Lebanon, up to 1 million people have been forced from their homes in a desperate search for safety.
Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) is providing support to displaced people in shelters, including schools, in the south of Lebanon as well as in and around Beirut. Our teams are providing water, psychological first aid, and medical consultations, as well as donating essential items such as mattresses, blankets, drinking water, and hygiene kits to displaced people.
Below are testimonies from displaced people, including MSF’s field communications director in Beirut.
"She had to grow up quickly"
"My daughter is only 14, but with all the difficulties we’ve had to overcome, she often responds to situations, namely airstrikes, with a maturity that surpasses her years. She’s had to grow up quickly.”
Originally from Baalbek in eastern Lebanon, Ezdihar used to live with her husband, 14-year-old daughter, and 17-year-old son in the southern suburbs of Beirut. When the first bombing raids hit the city, the family initially decided to stay, hoping that the situation would soon return to normal. It was on the evening of September 28, around 10:30 p.m., while the family was having dinner, that they received the alert of an imminent strike in the neighborhood, and they decided to flee.
Ezdihar’s husband left for an area in Mount Lebanon governorate to take care of his mother. Given the mother’s health condition, staying in an overcrowded shelter could worsen her situation, so they arranged for her to move to a different apartment. Ezdihar took her two children and left the southern suburbs for the center of the capital with 14 of her neighbors. Not knowing where to seek refuge, the group spent their first night on the streets before moving to the Azarieh shelter, a once-busy commercial building in the city center that has been turned into a space for displaced people to stay. After spending two weeks in Azarieh, Ezdihar says she doesn’t feel safe in the shelter and no longer knows where to go to seek refuge from the bombings.
"We came to find safety in Lebanon, but it turns out we are even more vulnerable here.”
"Amir has a fever, and he’s been sick a lot since we’ve been here. We’re running out of milk and diapers. He also cries more and more often, I think he’s aware of this change of environment and the insecurity in which we live, especially because of the noise of the bombings."
Originally from Syria, Abbas came to Lebanon seeking safety with his wife and parents. He worked as a security guard in Beirut, but lost his job when the war broke out. The family left the southern suburbs of Beirut, where they were living, to escape the bombing. After spending several nights on the streets, they moved into the Azarieh shelter, where they have been sharing a room for 18 days. Abbas says he is very worried about the health of his 8-month-old son, Amir.
After his home was destroyed in Syria, he left the country with the hope of a better life. Returning to his homeland seems impossible, he says, and now he feels trapped. "We came to find safety in Lebanon, but it turns out we are even more vulnerable here.”
"What will be left of our home?"
"I can’t imagine the future here anymore. Even if the war ends, what will be left of our home? Will my family and friends survive?”
Zeinab left the southern suburbs of Beirut, Lebanon, with her husband and their children the day after the Israeli strike that killed Hassan Nasrallah on September 27. At first, the family headed north, but were told to leave the area. Feeling unwelcome, they decided to go back to Beirut. On the way, they settled in the Azarieh shelter, where the couple lives in a 10-square-meter room with their four children.
Although Zeinab lived through the 2006 war, she describes the current situation as much more worrying. She is also worried about the impact of the war on her children. She had just registered Helena and Ahmad for school before the war broke out. Since then, they’ve been asking her when they’ll be able to go back to school.
Above all, the war has put a strain on the psychological health of each family member. Zeinab describes nights filled with nightmares and constantly waking up at the slightest noise. After an Israeli bomb hit a building 2 kilometers from the shelter, her children asked her to move to a safer place. The family is thinking of leaving Lebanon, no matter their destination, as long as their children are safe and they can look forward to a peaceful future.
"If the only way to regain stability is to leave, then we’ll leave."
“I don’t want to leave Lebanon, but I have a son and a wife to take care of. If the only way to regain stability is to leave, then we’ll leave. But where and how, I have no idea.”
Imad Hachem lived with his wife, sister, son, and cousin in the southern suburbs of Beirut. In the aftermath of the September 27 strike that killed Hassan Nasrallah, former Secretary General of Hezbollah, Imad realized that the security situation in the area was about to worsen. The family decided to leave home, taking with them all they could carry, including their ID documents, which they have carried with them ever since. Although it took the family a few days to find mattresses and blankets, Imad explains that they are now managing to survive in the Azarieh shelter thanks to the regular distribution of food. He is worried, however, about the living conditions in the shelter, especially with the arrival of winter, which brings rain and cold weather. He is also concerned about the health of his cousin, who has cancer and has been missing treatment.
"We used to receive this expensive treatment from the Ministry of Health, but now we are not sure how to access it," he says.
“There was heavy smoke and people in the streets were coughing.”
Maryam’s testimony was reported from a car as she fled her residence on Saturday, September 28, describing scenes of chaos in the southern suburbs of Beirut.
"Yesterday [Friday, September 27, 2024], we heard and felt a huge series of blasts while we were in meetings at the office. We wrapped up work and got stuck in heavy traffic. I had just relocated to a safer place since the bombing around Beirut and across the country intensified on Monday. When I reached my new home around 10 p.m., my relatives had already joined us. They had left their homes, thinking it would be safer where we were.
From my balcony, I saw dozens and dozens of people walking in the streets carrying what they could [in] plastic bags, backpacks, or nothing. People in the southern suburbs around ours had received evacuation orders from the Israeli armed forces. We saw people fleeing on foot, some walking with sticks, young and elderly. Some people were in cars. We were not in the neighborhood that was targeted but we heard drones and planes. Suddenly, there was darkness all around and bombing started everywhere. There was heavy smoke and people in the streets were coughing. I was with my mom, brother, and sister, and trying to figure out what to do next. Are the roads safe? Where do we go?
I had just left my house in Dahieh—a southern suburb of Beirut—a few days ago because of the heavy bombardments. We thought we would be safer here. Now we had to leave again. I grabbed a bag of essential items I had at hand. We were told that it’s better to bring mattresses, so we stuffed two in our car and took a pack of water bottles. I didn’t know what to do. There were fires everywhere following the airstrikes, and I heard a huge blast. We heard, felt, and saw the strikes. Our building was shaking. There was a huge blast in a place with no advance warning for evacuation.
Surrounded by fire and smoke, I was repeating to myself, “all we need is a plan and to take action, a plan and take action; do not wait here.” We just left the place as fast as we could. I don’t know what happened to my own house, or the new house. We kept calling around and drove for a couple of hours before we figured out where to go. Around 5 a.m., we found a place on the other side of the mountains.
We were very lucky that we left when we did because the fires after the airstrikes were still raging where we had been. We just needed a place to rest a little, to see where to go next, and we still haven’t slept. Some people are still in cars. Now we’re watching the news and shocking footage of what is happening. I know that my MSF colleagues are in the field, supplying water by trucks to shelters and schools in Beirut and Mount Lebanon, where displaced families are staying. Some people are lying down on the sidewalks.
MSF managed to provide 86,000 liters [about 23,000 gallons] of water in 24 hours, and is also distributing kits containing basic hygiene and relief items, as well as mattresses to the displaced people. Our mental health teams are on the streets providing psychological first aid to people who are traumatized and to people seeking refuge in schools. I am used to being a humanitarian worker, but now I am also a person displaced by air strikes in my own country. We are in a safe place, for now.
“That night was like a horror movie”
This testimony was given on September 30 in Ramleh El-Bayda, Beirut.
"My name is Hassan and I come from Nabatieh governorate in South Lebanon. I used to live with my wife and three children in the southern suburb of Beirut.
Four days ago, my family decided to leave our home because we were worried about our safety. That night was like a horror movie; warplanes, airstrikes, you name it. While we were in the car, we could feel the ground shaking.
We spent the first two days in a house in another neighborhood of Beirut, but then the owner asked us to vacate the apartment.
Now, we are here in Ramleh El-Bayda in Beirut. We are 20 members of my family, stranded on the beach. All shelters and schools are full. Where should we go? We have no place to go. It seems that nowhere is safe now.
The situation is far worse than anyone can imagine. We have so many needs. When we left, we only took a couple of clothes and our documentation. We couldn’t even bring a mattress or a pillow. Last night, we slept on chairs. No one is helping us.
All I care about is the kids. The youngest of them is a year-and-a-half old. How can I look out for my family?"
“I hope we can return to our houses; if there are houses to go back to”
This testimony was collected on September 25 in a school in Barja, Mount Lebanon.
"We’re from the southern border town of Khiam. We were forced to leave our home around a year ago when clashes started. And now, we were forced to leave yet again from the house we were sheltering in. We had barely started adapting, registered our kids in a nearby school, and all of it went away.
We left the house at 1:30 a.m. under heavy bombing from all around us. The traffic in the south was unimaginable. We went to two towns first, but their schools were full to the brim. We ended up sleeping that night in our car. The next morning, we came to this school and thankfully we found a classroom to house us. But we have nothing to sleep on. Fortunately, I managed to bring two blankets with me.”
This displacement is by far tougher than the first one. My children tell me they would rather die under bombing than to live like this. The school was shaking all night. We consider ourselves safe here for now, but what if Israel decides to target schools? I hope one day we can return to our houses—our original houses—if there are houses to go back to.”
* Names have been changed to protect privacy.
