As Israel’s brutal aerial assault and ground invasion of Lebanon continues, personal and family relationships are becoming strained and existing societal problems massively exacerbated, aid workers say.
About 1.3 million people have been displaced, out of a population of roughly 5.2 million. Half a million have crossed into neighbouring Syria. Others have gone to official shelters, mostly set up inside schools and educational institutions. Of the nearly 1,100 official shelters opened by October 23rd, 992 were at capacity, Lebanese authorities said. Others stay on the streets, with friends or family, or wherever they can find shelter. Lebanon’s government says it requires €230 million a month to cover basic needs for the displaced.
Ein el-Hilweh is Lebanon’s largest Palestinian camp. It’s located in Saida, south of the Awali river. Israeli forces have been telling people to evacuate to the north of the river. Despite its location – and the fact that an Israeli air strike hit the camp on October 1st, killing seven people – it has become one destination for those with nowhere else to go.
The camp’s population is roughly 100,000, said an aid worker, who spoke on condition of anonymity to protect her organisation’s work.
The aid worker said “98 per cent” of the newly displaced people are coming to stay with relatives, because they cannot afford to rent on their own.
[ Inside a Lebanese hospital: 'We are here to help civilians, we can't leave'Opens in new window ]
She said conditions in the camp become much worse at a time of crisis. “Already we faced many problems like poverty at 80 per cent, unemployment at 70 per cent, and we have more poverty, more unemployed people now because of the war.”
Daily construction workers, for example, have lost jobs as “people aren’t building or repairing houses because they don’t know what will happen”.
Tensions and pressure increase when people stay together in cramped spaces. Parents are more likely to lash out at children, and any existing abuse is likely to get worse, she said. Domestic violence rates also increase. Locals steal from each other to feed their children. Drugs – long a problem in the camp – are something people turn to when they need an escape. Dealers sometimes give teenagers drugs for free and then recruit them, the aid worker said.
She threw her hands in the air when asked about the camp’s future. “I wish the problems [will be] solved but I doubt [it]. Particularly in Ein el-Hilweh, there is no security ... People suffer from poverty and no jobs ... if they have opportunities to work, then we can start talking about hope.”
The Irish Times spoke to women staying in Ein el-Hilweh about their experiences.
‘I own nothing in my world’
Aisha Al-Qassem (35), who is Lebanese, came to the camp with her six children and husband, after fleeing their village in the Nabatieh governorate.
They left on September 28th, after “air strikes started far away and then got closer. My kids were shouting, crying and begging to leave.”
They didn’t have a car but a neighbour offered the family a lift in a van. What should have been a 30-minute drive took eight hours. “I left home without taking anything, I was wearing my pyjamas,” she said. “I thought one of my daughters had died, I was screaming at my husband and couldn’t find her.”
In Ein el-Hilweh, they joined Qassem’s sister, who was living there already. Another sister and a brother arrived afterwards, so 12 of them now live between two rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom.
Qassem’s father stayed with them too, but he later returned to their village. “He’s an old man, he couldn’t deal with the kids,” she said. Her husband – who used to work in construction – also left. “He’s gone to Beirut with his relatives because he can’t adapt here. All the pressure is on me, six kids. I feel scared for them about everything ... Sometimes I think about going back to my village.”
One sister managed to find work picking olives for three days, but “then Israel bombed and she stopped”. Qassem said two of her children still need milk and nappies. “In this situation you can’t ask people, because everyone is trying to help themselves. Now I am thinking of starting to take pills for depression because I’m really tired.”
In their previous life, Qassem said, “the most important thing was peace, your kids around you”. They owned their own property and now “I own nothing in my world”.
She said displaced people need mattresses, blankets and food, but cash assistance is most important “for dignity”.
The previous day, her eight-month-old baby fell from her daughter’s arms on to his face. Qassem said the hospital refused to scan him because she couldn’t pay them – a stark reminder of the importance of having cash, she said.
‘I just want my kids to live in peace’
Maysaa Batlouni, a 30-year-old Syrian, came to the camp with five children and her husband.
They first stayed in a shelter, and are now with a relative: two families – 11 people in total – share one room, a kitchen and a bathroom.
She described fleeing Nabatieh after an air strike hit their neighbour’s home, damaging part of theirs. They stayed in the street, then in a shelter for three days, but found it difficult.
Batlouni’s husband is out of work now. They registered with two NGOs but only received three mattresses, two pillows and one food parcel so far, she said.
“I don’t think about the future, only peace. I just want my kids to live in peace.” Her two-year-old son underwent surgery on his brain three months ago, but she cannot afford to pay for his follow-up checks. “He definitely needs follow-up but now I can only think about basics.”
Batlouni originally fled war in Syria in 2013. “Here is difficult, Syria too is difficult, a person doesn’t know where to go,” she said. “The most important thing is for my kids to have a life.”
‘We want to be back to normal’
Rana al Baik (38), fled Beirut’s southern suburbs with six children, following her 45-year-old cousin, Samar Hamada, to Ein el-Hilweh. Hamada escaped the heavily-hit suburbs with her four children and husband, coming to stay at her parents’ house, which has two rooms, a bathroom and a kitchen. Both women are Palestinian.
Baik and her family lived on the fourth floor of a building where Hizbullah leader Hassan Nasrallah was killed. She said they knew it was a Hizbullah compound but did not know who was staying there. “We went to the street to protect ourselves. People ran out, everything was damaged,” she said. They came to live with her brother.
She said her 28-year-old son “lost his mind and hasn’t recovered” after the so-called “bunker buster” bombs flattened the buildings Nasrallah was under. “My daughter vomited from the fright. It was like a movie, it happened suddenly. We were sitting watching [Israeli prime minister Binyamin] Netanyahu on the news [giving his speech at the UN General Assembly] and suddenly this happened ... That day, it caused many traumas for us. We still don’t feel safe, at any time they may strike here as well.”
Now, she said, the sound of doors opening or motorbikes passing by scare the children. “We wish to move back to our home because we want to be back to normal life.”
Before they were displaced, Baik worked in a kindergarten and her husband distributed water. “Our economic situation was already bad before this situation,” she explained. Now “I’m wondering if we will be able to find food to eat”. Hamada’s husband was a chef in a restaurant.
“Our husbands have psychological issues, have problems, they’re not used to staying at home with no work,” said Baik. “I registered in many organisations [for help] and I’m still waiting. There are many names and we’re waiting for our names to come up.”
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