After escaping relentless Israeli bombing in southern Lebanon, Fahdia Issa slumps against the wall. Her head kisses the stone, hoping a moment’s rest will ease the pain she feels there.
“Yesterday was unbelievable,” she tells Middle East Eye. “Smoke, terror, warplanes. No one could go anywhere. Fear, noise, stress. What else can I say?”
The elderly woman from the southern Lebanese village of Houmine al-Tahta feels grateful for the relative safety she has found in central Beirut’s Greek Catholic Patriarchate School, which like other schools in Lebanon has thrown its doors open to shelter the displaced.
Issa spent hours on the road and her daughters, both living in areas further south, are still travelling, leaving her with an anxious wait for their arrival.
Tens of thousands of Lebanese have been forced from their homes by bombing and Israeli orders to leave. Roads to safety were so busy that many spent 12 hours or more on a journey that previously took just one or two.
At the school’s entrance, ragged and frightened families wept. They had just lived through Lebanon’s bloodiest day since the civil war.
Israel and Hezbollah have been locked in conflict since early October, but escalating Israeli attacks reached a crescendo on Monday when ferocious bombing killed at least 558 people – including 50 children.
‘We can see what they have lived through in their faces, how much they suffered, how scared they were, how tired they are’
– Sahar Rizk, volunteer
The Patriarchate school has taken in around 350 Lebanese since it opened its doors overnight.
Sahar Rizk, a local resident helping manage the distribution of aid, says it’s now at capacity, as is another school down the road, but a third nearby will hopefully recieve people soon.
“As much as we give, it will remain too little for our displaced people,” she tells MEE.
“We can see what they have lived through in their faces, how much they suffered, how scared they were, how tired they are. You see this and just ask for God to strengthen you, for you to continue supporting them.”
According to Rizk, the displaced arriving in Beirut require various kinds of assistance, and products for infants and women’s hygiene are a priority.
But in the face of such traumatic scenes in the south and east, Lebanese have responded strongly.
“What is your worth in life if you did not offer yourself to your brother? Your displaced brother who left everything for you to shelter him,” says Rizk.
‘Steadfast until our last breath’
It’s not clear how long people will have to wait until they can see what is left of their communities in the south.
“God willing, we will all return home,” Issa says. “We want all people to be able to return to their homes.”
Though weary adults are on the verge of collapse, the school’s playground heaved with children happily playing.
Rizk says those moments of happiness are keeping her going.
“I feel so happy when I go up and see people smiling, to at least make them forget one percent of what they have lived through in the past few days,” she says.
The school hasn’t just welcomed Lebanese from the south or Bekaa Valley in the east. Israel has repeatedly bombed the southern suburbs of Beirut, too, causing residents there to flee as well.
Amal Alawiyeh, 36, escaped the southern neighbourhood of Haret Hreik and is waiting for her relatives to arrive from the south.
The past few days have been terrifying, she says, but it has not shaken her support for Hezbollah – or her belief that the movement will win its battle against Israel.
“Of course, we were alarmed, it was difficult, but we are steadfast until our last breath,” she says. “We support the resistance, and we support Palestine and the Palestinian people.
“Victory is near, God willing.”