From the beaches of Beirut to the slaughterhouse, the race to house the displaced before winter | Conflict in the Middle East

In Karantina, one of the most disadvantaged neighborhoods of Beirut, around thirty workers are busy in an abandoned slaughterhouse. Some rush to install insulating panels as walls, others paint the metal roof bright white. Their job: convert its four hangars into an accommodation center that can accommodate more than 1,000 war displaced people.

In the large courtyard which formerly served as a parking lot, around twenty children play ball to forget the bombs. Their parents watch them, looking serious and concerned. Sitting on plastic chairs, some smoke shisha to distract themselves, others comment on the latest news they saw scrolling across the screen of their phone.

A first hangar was fitted out in a flash. Barely eight days after the start of work, it already houses nearly 280 people, divided into 50 units of 12 square meters each.

Since the intensification of the war led by Israel on September 23, Lebanon has had more than 1.2 million displaced people out of a population of nearly 5 million inhabitants. Most found shelter with relatives or rented apartments in relatively safe areas, but several found themselves on the street for lack of means.

Like all the other displaced people in the center, Oum Daniel only dreams of one thing: end the war and come home. This forty-year-old with a broad smile fled her home in the southern suburbs of Beirut with her husband and four children about a month ago.

Before arriving at the center, Oum Daniel and his family spent two weeks on the streets of Beirut. At night, the six of them lay down on the bench seats of their van.

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We had nowhere to goshe confides. And we can’t afford to rent an apartment in Beirut or anywhere else in the country.

In one month, rents have exploded in Lebanon. In some areas, they have quintupled, from $400 a month to more than $2,000.

We tried to set up a tent in the city center, but security forces chased us awayshe says.

We even thought about returning home, to the southern suburbs, at the risk of perishing in the bombings, but our building is on the verge of collapsing. Its foundations were seriously damaged by the explosions, it became uninhabitable.

Marie Daou, a long-time volunteer within theONG Offre-Joie, responsible for the development of the disused slaughterhouse, makes its daily tour of the premises. Full of energy, she takes stock with the other volunteers, then chats with the displaced people who pass next to her in the long corridor that runs alongside the rooms.

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The idea behind this project is to get displaced people off the streets of Beirutshe explains.

It would be catastrophic to let all these people sleep in the street, in the cold. There are children, there are elderly people, there are sick people.

In Beirut, the mercury can reach 10 degrees Celsius in winter. In addition, the capital is often swept by torrential rains between December and March, which causes flooding every year. However, at the beginning of November, the weather is still showing clemency with a thermometer showing 20 degrees under a bright sun.

Oum Daniel, whose nickname means in Arabic Daniel’s mother in reference to her eldest son, is very appreciated by the volunteers of the accommodation center. You absolutely have to show you his roomsaid Ms. Daou. She is exceptional!assures another volunteer.

Proudly, Oum Daniel opens the door to room number 6 wide. The little that she was able to save from her house is carefully and coquettishly arranged on shelves: pink cups are arranged in a pyramid and bottles of shampoo and liquid soap are arranged according to their size, just like the suitcases, two of which are in the shape of a penguin. Clothes are neatly folded and stacked.

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I try my best to decorate this room and make it comfortable for the family, especially childrenshe says, standing in the middle of the room.

Her daughters, in their twenties, have suffered from depression since they had to flee their home, she explains. So, I do what I can to alleviate their suffering.

One of his daughters, who studies pharmacy, now works as a volunteer for the clinic set up at the back of the center. Her second daughter, for her part, spends her days in the community kitchen, behind the stove.

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Before, they cried all the time, but since they started volunteering, they feel useful and this has helped them a lot morally.said their mother, relieved.

It’s still better to be here than in a tent in the street!

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But, in Beirut, not all displaced people are equal.

About ten kilometers away, more than thirty makeshift tents have sprung up on the sand of Beirut’s only public beach. Here, the blue sky and the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean blend together harmoniously.

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Ramlet Al-Bayda, which literally means white sand in Arabic, was the only outlet on the sea that was completely free for bathers in Beirut. Today, the beach has transformed into a refuge for some 500 displaced people who have nowhere to go, most of them Syrians.

Sitting on a wooden bench worn by the elements and the passage of time, the beach director, Nazih Al-Rayess, has his ear glued to his phone. On the other end of the line, the representative of a ONG local tells him that the 50 hot dishes she had promised him will not ultimately be delivered to him this evening.

All accommodation centers are overwhelmedhe explains after hanging up. They don’t have enough food for everyone.

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It all started with a message that I published on Facebook, inviting people fleeing bombed areas to come and take refuge on the beach.raconte M. Al-Rayess. This message has been shared more than 100 times, he continues. At the time, the authorities had not yet opened reception centers.

Then, like the waves of the sea, the displaced arrived in waves on the beach of Ramlet Al-Bayda.

The first wave arrived from southern Lebanon on September 23. That day, more than 500 people were killed in strikes.

The second wave came from the southern suburbs of Beirut 4 days later, when 30 tons of explosives were dropped to eliminate Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, who was sheltering in an underground bunker.

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The third wave occurred on October 22, after bombings near the public hospital in Beirut which left 18 dead and 60 injured.

At the height of the crisis, there were thousands of displaced people in Ramlet Al-Baydaaffirme Nazih Al-Rayess.

The beach was packed with people. The lounge chairs have been converted into beds. The displaced people slept under the umbrellas. We didn’t have enough tents to accommodate them all.

According to him, most ended up leaving the beach after a few days. Some went to relatives, others were welcomed in public schools, transformed by the authorities into shelters. Still others found refuge at the Karantina slaughterhouse.

Those who remain, they are the most deprivedlaments Mr. Al-Rayess. Most of them are Syrian refugees who have nowhere else to go.

In government shelters, priority is given to displaced Lebanese people. The centers of the High Commission ofHIM for refugees (UNHCR) are saturated.

Despite the multiple social, economic and political crises it is going through, Lebanon is still home to some 1.5 million Syrian refugees who fled violence in their country more than 10 years ago.

Since the war in Lebanon intensified in late September, tens of thousands of Syrians have returned to their homeland, but many refuse to do so, fearing persecution.

We need to find a solution and quicklytranche Nazih Al-Rayess. There is no question of transforming the beach into a permanent refuge.

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Winter is fast approaching and we are not prepared to face the cold and bad weather. There is no heating in the tents. How will the children sleep?

Meanwhile, waves of displaced people continue to surge onto Ramlet Al-Bayda beach to the rhythm of the bombings.

The latest wave occurred on Thursday, coming from the southern suburbs which were targeted by eight strikes in less than two hours. That evening, seven new families had to spend the night on the sand, under the stars.