Inside one of the buildings in Beirut’s Hamra district, at the Evangelical School, displacement appears not only as the loss of shelter, but as a daily reality that tests the endurance of the body. Between overcrowded rooms and constant noise, additional challenges faced by people with disabilities become painfully visible. Here, the issue is not only about safety, but about how to live within a confined space where every detail of daily life, from sleeping and moving to meeting basic needs, becomes difficult.
Impossible Care
The mother of Ali Abbas, from the southern town of Houla, recounts a displacement journey that began in Touline and ended in Beirut, inside a small room shared by 12 family members. Her 21-year-old son lives with severe cerebral palsy, making his care exhausting even under normal conditions, let alone inside a shelter center.
What weighs on her most is her inability to maintain his personal hygiene. For nearly a month, Ali has not been able to bathe because of the narrow bathrooms and the danger of him slipping while she carries him, especially after an incident in which he nearly fell from her arms. With the heavy humidity inside the room, his health deteriorated, leaving him vulnerable to recurring illness.
Between overcrowded rooms and constant noise, additional challenges faced by people with disabilities become clear.
Although several organizations intervened by providing him with a wheelchair, a breathing device, and a special chair, the details of daily life remain the hardest part. The displacement journey alone lasted 16 exhausting hours, worsening his fragile condition. Back home, there had been more space, an accessible bathroom, and a kitchen adapted to his dietary needs. Today, everything is constrained by overcrowding and noise. His mother says: “The greatest challenge is that he cannot express his pain or his needs, which forces us to monitor him constantly in order to understand what he is suffering from.”
Relative Safety and Comfort
Sitting in his wheelchair is 47-year-old Sami Hammoud, who came from Beirut’s southern suburbs and was displaced with his family from the very first day of the bombardment. Sami has a physical disability that prevents him from moving independently, in addition to a speech impairment caused by heaviness in his tongue.
Despite this, he manages to introduce himself in a few brief words and greet those around him. Unlike many other testimonies, he describes his stay at the center as “comfortable” compared to what he endured under bombardment. For him, the relative sense of safety here partially eases the burden of his disability.
Noise That Shatters Routine
Hassan Ibrahim, from the town of Taybeh, lives a different reality. He has trisomy syndrome and expresses in his own simple way how much he misses southern Lebanon. The thing he says most clearly is how much he loves his mother and how attached he has become to one of the organizers at the school, who calls him by his nickname “Doushka” and makes him feel familiar and safe.
Displacement no longer feels like a temporary stop, but rather a heavy daily reality imposing itself in every detail.
Yet the noise inside the center places a daily burden on him. His mother explains: “He was used to sleeping in quiet surroundings, and he is extremely sensitive to sounds, which makes adapting to overcrowding very difficult.” Before displacement, he attended a specialized care center where he learned vocational skills and showed remarkable progress. Today, he constantly repeats how much he misses his school, a simple expression of the loss of a routine that once gave him a sense of stability.
Between Illness and Helplessness
In another corner of the center sits 19-year-old Maryam Mahmoud Qbeisseh from the town of Ansar. She fled with her mother during the first days of the war, before other relatives later joined them. Since then, her entire life has changed.
Maryam suffers from partial paralysis and muscular atrophy. She walks with difficulty and cannot rely on herself independently. She needs surgery, but its cost is unaffordable. In addition, she suffers from a neurological disorder and diabetes, while being unable to secure her medication regularly.
She says she misses her village, her private room, and sitting outdoors in nature. Here, her movement is limited, and she only leaves accompanied by her family to the nearby shop. She says: “What bothers me most is the noise, which completely contradicts my constant need for quiet because of my fragile health condition.”
Inside this building, stories of displacement stand side by side, sharing the same harsh daily details, especially for people with disabilities. Here, the simplest things become challenges: bathing, sleeping, moving, and even expressing pain or need. The suffering goes far beyond losing a home; it extends into every aspect of daily life inside an overcrowded space where health conditions collide with cramped surroundings and relentless noise. For many, displacement no longer appears as a temporary stage, but as a heavy daily reality that leaves little room for comfort or stability.
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