“I Don’t Have a House Here and I Don’t Have a House There”: Syrians Face Double Displacement
Displaced families who do not find space in a shelter and cannot afford to rent an apartment are left with no choice but to sleep on the streets. Corniche, Beirut. September 28, 2024. (Marwan Bou Haidar/The Public Source)
At the corner of Saifi Village, a high-end, pastel-colored residential area in downtown Beirut, is Charles Debbas Park. The small garden, with its stone benches and blue columns at its center, has transformed into a makeshift shelter for Syrian and migrant families from Bangladesh, Ethiopia, and Sudan. The newcomers are amongst the estimated 1.2 million civilians displaced from their homes by Israel’s ongoing aerial bombardment of Lebanon.
Bamboo mats and thick blankets are strewn across the grass. Children play tag with empty plastic bottles they collect throughout the day. Food boxes with Central World Kitchen and Ask Me About Christ labels contain the remnants of the vegetable noodles distributed at lunch. Although some families were able to secure foam mattresses, tents, or tarps, there is minimal furniture and equipment to protect most inhabitants from the scorching afternoon sun and the season’s sporadic rain.
“The people are bringing us water and food, but there aren’t enough bedsheets, mattresses, or pillows for me and my family,” Ahmed, a Syrian man who has lived and worked in Lebanon since 2012, told The Public Source. “We fled Dahieh on Friday [September 27]. I have three children, two daughters and one son, and my wife. Most of the shelters we tried to visit are at full capacity.”
On Monday, September 23, Interior Minister Bassam Mawlawi ordered public schools and official institutions to provide shelter for the influx of displaced people. Meanwhile, rumors and unverified news reports about private establishments and leisure centers, like Forum de Beyrouth and Biel’s exhibition center, opening their doors for shelter circulate on social media, sending households back and forth in search of refuge.
"Most of the shelters we tried to visit are at full capacity.” —Ahmed, Syrian man who has lived in Lebanon since 2012
“The news tells us these places are open. We quickly get on our [motorcycles] to secure a place for our families, but the guards tell us to leave when we arrive because the news is wrong. They’re not sheltering anybody,” says Hussein, who, along with other men, parked outside the gates of Forum de Beyrouth, waiting for an update about additional shelters.
Families who do not manage to find space in a shelter and cannot afford to rent an apartment are left with no choice but to sleep on the streets.
“When it rains, we take cover under the [Fouad Chehab] bridge,” says Batoul, a Syrian mother of two who fled her apartment in Dahieh last Wednesday [September 25] after the Arabic-language spokesperson for the Israeli occupation forces issued displacement notices on X. “The only thing that the state offered was three buses headed towards Syria. Only two families got on.”
On September 29, Syria’s Council of Ministers introduced a one-week waiver, which was extended again for another 10 days on October 5, on its requirement for each citizen, regardless of age, returning to their country to exchange $100 into Syrian pounds. It is unclear, however, if the changes are being enforced at the border. Without additional support from the Syrian embassy and the perpetually absent Lebanese state, displaced Syrians must rely on inconsistent donations and distributions from non-profit and grassroots organizations.
“The only thing that the state offered was three buses headed towards Syria." —Batoul, Syrian mother of two
“Now, I don’t have a house here and I don’t have a house there [in al-Mazzeh, Damascus]. Both are destroyed,” says Haya, a young Syrian woman pregnant with her third child and sleeping with her family on the Corniche. She says she was sent a contact number for a shelter, but when she called, was told that they were not admitting Syrians and that she should return to her country. “Of course, I want to move back eventually, but not like this.”
Update: On Sunday, October 6, the neighborhood’s security guards forcibly evacuated Charles Debbas, displacing families again. Many relocated to a parking lot across the street, where some families were already sheltering in their cars.
“They kicked us out at 10 last night. Residents complained about the garbage, the smell, and the sounds,” says Batoul, who temporarily relocated with her family meters away from the garden, under the Fouad Chehab bridge. “We don’t know where to go next.”