I was in Lebanon in 2006 – this is already so much worse 

My senses haven’t known peace in weeks.

If it’s not the sound of children crying in the shelters that’s ringing through my ears, it’s the buzz of drones, or the deep rumble of the bombs as they drop closer to our city of Saida in Lebanon.

For 12 months, we have warned the world that without a strong voice, Israel’s war on its neighbours would spiral out of control. We saw it happen one year ago in Gaza, and now the same is happening here, too.

According to reports, over 1,700 have been killed in Lebanon since October 2023 – the majority of deaths occurring in the past month. As many as one million people have been displaced and at least half a dozen hospitals have been forced to close due to the damage and danger of airstrikes.

We have watched over the past year as our country has been brought to the point of no return. Unfortunately, it’s something we’ve been through before.

In 2006, Israel launched a massive air and eventual ground invasion of Lebanon, targeting Hezbollah headquarters but resulting in hundreds of civilian casualties.

I was working doing aid distribution and driving for a local relief charity in a shelter in Saida, which is about 60 km from the border with Israel. I drove from village to village, handing out aid to the families who refused to move on despite the threat of bombardment. This was their home, and they weren’t moving.

I remember talking to the people who came to our shelters, too. They were anxious – they had lost everything – but there was a sense that the war would pass and we would return to the lives we knew. We’ve endured decades of fighting in the region – we could handle another.

This war lasted 34 days and ended thanks to a UN-backed ceasefire.

Now – since October 7 last year – we’ve again seen tit-for-tat fighting between Hezbollah and Israel, until recently when the Israeli military launched an invasion.

Despite statements from Benjamin Netanyahu claiming to want the protection of civilians – my family, my friends, and myself, feel like an inconvenience to him. We are an anticipated casualty. 

Already, more people have been killed in Lebanon since last October than in the war of 2006. As humanitarians, we aren’t unfamiliar with violence and bloodshed, but this is far worse than anything that we have seen before.

We’re witnessing families who have been forced to give up everything and go in search of shelter, food, water, and a safe place to sleep.

Thousands of people have been displaced into our small city of Saida, pushing our capacity over the edge. Providing support under these conditions as a humanitarian aid worker with Action For Humanity is claustrophobic and near impossible. 

We can’t move around as much as we’d want for fear of an airstrike, and supplies are quickly running out, but people are more giving than ever. I have seen families with nothing sharing their food and water with strangers. 

On top of that, neighbours are driving across the country together looking for a place to wait out the war. You still hear mothers chatting together while they feed their children.

A month ago, these displaced people had jobs. Many owned their own businesses. The children were in school. With the bombing of residential buildings and the death of dozens in the past weeks, I don’t know how to tell them that they may not be safe here for long.

With the military invasion now in full swing, we don’t know where the next bomb may land. The only thing we can be certain of is that if there isn’t an intervention soon, there will be no amount of humanitarian support that can stop the bleeding my country will feel.

Over the next few days and weeks, we will need more food, water, beds, blankets, and hygiene supplies. Action For Humanity is on the ground, but if we’re forced to move – whether with the courtesy of a warning from the Israeli army or not – our aid teams will have to stop delivering aid to seek safety.

When we last saw war, there was a sense of hope. While the US and the UK strongly backed Israel – much like they’re doing now – and put up barricades to the ceasefire process, the international community pushed successfully for a de-escalation.

With a year of calls for peace behind us, it feels like we may be on our own.

Netanyahu has described this recent escalation in Lebanon as a ‘limited’ operation. On the ground delivering aid though, there’s nothing limited about it.

What we’re seeing now is the start of a Gaza-style crisis: wholesale destruction and the loss of countless civilian lives. I know we’ll soon face the same problems our colleagues in Gaza are facing.

If the violence continues, aid supplies will run out, and as infrastructure is destroyed, whole parts of the country will be cut off from support. Our medical systems will be crippled, and thousands could be killed.

I hope for the violence to slow, and stay far from my streets, but the last year has given me no reason to hope. I fear the war will keep coming.

I will stay for as long as it is safe, but without a ceasefire, no one can be prepared for the level of violence heading our way.

We’re doing our best to not become targets: we have decreased our movement – only leaving when it is an absolute need – and we are avoiding areas that could be targeted like communication towers and military bases.

I never go anywhere without a fire extinguisher and my first aid kit is more for peace of mind than protection.

With nearly a year behind us since October 7 – as well as Israel’s condemnation of the UN growing more charged – my hopes for Lebanon are being dashed.

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