Amid escalating violence and mass displacement in Lebanon, families are sheltering in overcrowded schools, shelters, and makeshift tents under increasingly harsh conditions.
Children and adults live in constant fear, lacking basic necessities such as food, water, healthcare, and education.
Just last week (April 8th), hundreds were reportedly killed and injured in widespread aerial bombardments across the country, with densely populated areas of Beirut among the hardest hit.
More than 100 airstrikes were reported within minutes, many striking residential neighbourhoods. Hospitals, overwhelmed by the influx of casualties, have issued urgent calls for blood donations.
Four displaced families in Beirut share the reality of daily life...
Ali: "We left thinking it would be temporary, but the days keep stretching on"
Inside a classroom-turned-shelter in Beirut, Ali sits surrounded by his family, displaced from their hometown of Srifa in southern Lebanon’s Tyre district.
Ali is a father of five, three boys and two girls. One of his daughters gave birth to her baby during their displacement, inside the school, under difficult conditions, lacking basic comforts.
"We never imagined we would leave our home like this… We left thinking it would be temporary, but the days keep stretching on," he says.
On March 2, Ali and his family were forced to flee, leaving behind their home and belongings. Today, they are staying at Omar Onsi School in Beirut, where basic needs such as food are partially provided by the school and supporting organisations. These provisions, however, are not always enough to meet the full demands of daily life.
The challenges have intensified with the arrival of a newborn in the family. Ali explains that they have not been able to secure all the essential items needed for the baby: "We try to manage with what we have, but the situation is difficult, and there are many gaps."
Despite the hardships, Ali holds firmly onto hope. "We want to live with dignity. We want peace to return to our country, and for this tragedy to end", he says.
Like many others, he is waiting for a ceasefire to be announced so he can return home immediately. "The moment a ceasefire is declared, we will go back. Our home is there; our life is there. We hope people can understand what we are going through and show mercy."
Hassan: "The hardest part is seeing my children live what I once lived"
Inside an overcrowded classroom at Omar Onsi School, Hassan struggles to find even the smallest space for his family among dozens of displaced people sharing the same shelter.
He lived in Chiyah before he was forced to flee. On the first day, they headed to the seaside, seeking temporary refuge by the shore. When schools later opened to receive displaced families, they moved into the school, where they remain today.
A father of eight, four girls and four boys, Hassan speaks about the harsh reality they now face. "The situation is very difficult", he says, pointing to the severe shortage of gas and safe drinking water. "I can’t do anything… no gas, no water… I can’t even cook or heat anything for my children".
Despite being unable to work, Hassan uses what little money he has left to buy drinking water for his family, while many other needs remain unmet.
Overcrowding further worsens their living conditions. Each room is shared by three to four families, with around 20 to 25 people in a single small space, separated only by blankets that attempt to create minimal privacy. Pets are also present in the same rooms, adding to the already challenging environment.
Hassan recalls having lived through war before, but says the pain is greater now as he watches his children go through it. "The hardest part is seeing my children live what I once lived", he says. He fears there is "no future for children here", yet still hopes he can do something for them.
Nawal: "We just want to live in safety"
In a quiet corner of Omar Onsi School, 71-year-old Nawal sits with all the belongings she has left. Displaced from Chiyah, she did not leave her home at the start of the crisis. "I didn’t flee at first… I couldn’t find a place, and I was worried about my children", she says. But as the danger grew, she was eventually forced to leave, finding herself today in a crowded room inside the school.
She now stays with one of her sons and his child, while her other son remains trapped in Chiyah with his four children, unable to leave due to the lack of available space in shelters. This forced separation weighs heavily on Nawal, who lives in constant worry for them, especially as the sounds of explosions continue to traumatise the children.
"I hope they can find a safe place and get out of danger… the sounds of raids there leave deep scars on the children", she says.
Nawal also suffers from chronic back pain and needs medication, but she has been unable to obtain it. The school does not provide medicine, and she cannot afford to buy it. "Our situation is like everyone else’s," she says.
Despite scarce resources, Nawal tries to support her sons. She sends part of the limited food she receives at the shelter back to Chiyah, hoping it will be enough to feed her grandchildren, who sometimes go days without eating.
"We just want to live in safety," she says.
Zainab: "Everything is difficult now"
Zainab, 52, sits on the floor at Farah Al-Ataa Center in Karantina, leaning against the wall, trying to find some comfort amidst the crowded shelter.
Originally from Mais al-Jabal, Zainab was displaced at the start of the war with her son and his young daughter, after being unable to secure a home. "Since the war began, our lives have completely changed… everything is difficult now," she says.
Zainab suffers from a leg problem that limits her mobility, as well as high blood pressure, for which she takes daily medication, but she has been unable to afford it. These health challenges compound her daily struggles in the shelter, especially with overcrowding and the scarcity of drinking water for the large number of residents.
With tears streaming down her face, Zainab speaks of her demolished home and the memories it held, and of the uncertainty she faces about where she and her family will go once the war ends. "I don’t wish for anything except peace, safety, and a roof that protects my family", she says.
All photos taken by Abbas Sheet
We are urgently developing risk education messaging for families in Lebanon, covering safety around explosive items, how to avoid rubble and details of reporting hazards. The information will be distributed online, on billboards, and across villages where families are displaced.
This is vital, potentially life-saving information with lessons drawn directly from our risk education work in Gaza.
