“A small slope, starting from below with a big chinaberry tree. You go up a little, there is a loquat tree with big, delicious fruit that we’re always climbing... A small, cozy home – two rooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom, and I was so happy with it.”

Like a child describing a house seen in a dream, Warde* spoke to Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) teams about her home in Deir Al-Zahrani, in Nabatiyeh governorate, southern Lebanon.

After the latest escalation of the Israeli war in Lebanon broke out 2 March, Warde remained in her home with her husband, son, and three daughters for 18 days amidst the roar of shelling and relentless airstrikes. They stayed until Israeli missiles struck directly behind their house, leaving people dead and injured, and forcing the family to flee in search of safety. Warde is one of the women our teams met in shelters in Beirut and Jiyeh in Mount Lebanon, where we are providing medical services through mobile clinics, launched as part of the emergency response to the escalation of war in Lebanon.

War, displacement, and compound suffering

At its peak, the Israeli war displaced more than one million people in Lebanon. As of 22 July, more than 375,000 of them remain unable to return home, or simply no longer have homes to return to, according to the International Organization for Migration (IOM).

Forcibly displaced people endure the ongoing toll of war and displacement, which extends far beyond the loss of a home and stability. The intense violence of Israeli warplanes and the accompanying sonic booms caused Walaa* to suffer a miscarriage. She was displaced with her husband, son, and daughter from Mayfadoun in Nabatiyeh governorate. 

“The sound of the warplanes was so frightening,” says Walaa. “No matter how much faith one has in God, fear is out of your hands.” 

As for Halime, displaced with her husband and daughter from Qaaqaaiyet El-Jisr in Nabatiyeh to a public school in Beirut, displacement has weighed heavily on her physically and psychologically.

“Everything here is hard for me. I can’t accept it. I’ve developed so much stress that I can no longer stand on my feet or walk,” says Halime. “If I want to get up off the floor, my husband has to pull me up. I went to the doctor and ran tests, and it turned out I have inflammation throughout my entire body.”

Children bear double burdens

Those displaced were often forced to leave their homes multiple times due to ongoing Israeli military attacks, even after the so-called ceasefire announced in April. This created a state of volatility and uncertainty that compounded the hardships displaced people were already facing, from inadequate conditions in shelters – particularly regarding water and sanitation – to disrupted livelihoods, financial distress, and challenges in accessing healthcare.

Children, in addition to the challenges they share with their families, have had their education disrupted and have been torn away from their daily surroundings. 

“Not a single child is at peace. They go out and play a bit at the sports club, but the real challenge is with their studies,” says Warde. “Nothing is available. Every child now has emotional distress and depression, feeling like, ‘I'm not in my home.’ There is no future in sight.”

Mohamad Ali and his wife, Walaa, spoke to us about their daughter’s deteriorating state after her close friend was killed in an Israeli airstrike.

“Our daughter suffered and is still suffering psychologically from this loss. She was texting her, telling her, ‘I want to come see you’, and then they bombed her house,” they say. “Her friend, her friend’s mother, aunt, and cousins were all martyred. I've struggled so much with her; she has developed health and psychological problems.”

Many shelters suffer from severe overcrowding alongside poor sanitary conditions, compromising the privacy of those sharing these spaces. Halime describes the difficulties faced by her 13-year-old daughter. 

“When my daughter came to the public school here, her initial reaction was that she didn’t want to live here,” says Halime. “But reality set in: ‘Darling, there is no home. Right now, there's only this school to be our shelter. You have to accept it.’ It was hard for her the first few days, but then she managed. Still, she spends most of her time in the room.”

Memories of home and hope for return

Nisrine was displaced from her home in Seddiqine, Sour/Tyre, and returned when the ceasefire was first announced. However, she was soon forced to leave again with the renewed Israeli military threats against her village. 

“I miss everything about my house,” says Nisrine. “Everything, everything, everything. During the truce, we went up and thought it was over.” 

“But when I went to the house and saw the destruction, I felt it was going to be a long process,” she continues. “I brought everything I needed: mouneh [preserved seasonal foods], olive oil, oil-cured aubergines, my spices.” 

In early July, following the de-escalation in southern Lebanon, Nisrine returned to her village; however, she remains unable to return to her home.

Warde deeply misses her home’s garden; during her displacement, she even bought flowers and plants, dreaming of bringing them along when she returns home.

“I’m someone who loves flowers so much,” says Warde. “I have a long walkway, all planted with flowers... Roses, Brugmansia, summer seasonal flowers... Every flower has a story and a name, and I care for them like my own children.”

Warde remains displaced in Jiyeh, far from her village.

Walaa longingly awaits her return home, especially since she can no longer cook as she used to, due to the lack of an equipped kitchen in the shelter. 

“I love cooking food and making sweets so much,” Walaa says. “The last dish I cooked was stuffed grape leaves in olive oil when we went back during the truce, and I made ghraybe [shortbread cookies]. It pains me that it’s been so long since I’ve cooked a meal.” 

Despite the cruelty of displacement, Mohamad Ali holds onto a few cherished memories. 

“If there’s anything we’ll hold on to from our displacement, it’s the good people we’ve met, the people who helped us, and those who welcomed us,” he says. “They made us feel like we weren't strangers.”