Escaping war, Lebanese refugees face new hardships in a changed Syria

Beirut, Lebanon - Fadia Mousa was only 10 years old when she had to travel across Lebanon into Syria during Israel's invasion in 2006. She remembers the lengthy journey and the fear.

Eighteen years later, she's once again experiencing that same horror, of being crammed in a car to go from one war-wrecked country to another, to escape Israeli planes that are once again pounding Lebanon.

Nearly a quarter million people have fled Lebanon to Syria since September 23. That's when Israel doubled down on its attacks to the north, killing over a 1,000 people in and around Beirut in a span of days, and internally displacing more than 1.2 million more.

Over 900 refugee centres across Lebanon are almost full of these displaced, who account for some 20 percent of the country's population.

Meanwhile, Israeli forces are pushing further into Lebanon, beyond the southern regions where they've been clashing with Hezbollah fighters for a year.

A changed Syria

So Mousa, along with nearly 80,000 other Lebanese people, have opted to head further north into Syria, whose civil war has enacted years of economic, social, political and cultural toll.

"So much has changed about Syria," said Mousa, who arrived on September 25. "Back then (in 2006), there was no war, no destruction, and it felt safe."

Syria's security and political instability began in 2011. According to recent World Bank reports, the economy has worsened dramatically over the past year.

This is in part due to the depreciation of the Syrian lira, as well as rising consumer price inflation to the tune of 93 percent, said the World Bank in May.

The report went on to add that humanitarian aid funding shortfalls "have further drained the ability of households to meet basic needs amidst soaring prices, reduced access to essential services and rising unemployment.”

Within days of arriving in Syria, Mousa told TRT World she could feel this economic strain. "Rents are 10 times what they were back then, and landlords are demanding a year's rent upfront - an exorbitant amount of $12,000. If I had that much money, I would've stayed in a safe hotel in Lebanon," she said.

Although it has not been at war for nearly two decades, Lebanon's economy is also experiencing its own slew of setbacks. An economic dip that began in 2019 was worsened by Covid-19 and a dramatic explosion at its main port in 2020. And the Lebanese lira has, too, lost nearly 98 percent of its value, affecting households' incomes and livelihoods.

Given Lebanon's woes, Mousa, like many others, hoped Syria would be a wiser move.

Panic at home

Amidst intensified Israeli shelling that is expanding its reach in Lebanon, many are acutely feeling the government's absence and its inability to cope with several critical issues, including an exodus of displaced people, the surge in panic-driven hoarding of food, and the health sector's ability to attend to the wounded.

The government is operating in a caretaker capacity, and was assigned three years ago amidst domestic political divisions that have prevented the country from electing a president and appointing a cabinet with a full mandate.

For many Lebanese who left the country, a search for normalcy was the key driver.

Anna, a mother of two children, including one with a heart condition, fled to Syria on September 23, following Israel's heavy bombing of Al-Nabatiah, close to her hometown of Kafr Jowz.

"I hastily packed what I could of our belongings and rushed into our car, thinking we'd beat the traffic. Instead, it took us 22 hours to get to Syria, a trip which on normal days takes no longer than a quarter of this time," said the mother, who asked TRT World to use her first name only.

The journey was difficult, with six people crammed into a car for 22 hours without food or water. Amid constant Israeli shelling near the road that was jammed to a halt due to the sheer number of vehicles, Anna's unwell daughter - whose health condition was a key reason behind them leaving for Syria - became very distressed.

"She began puking and ultimately was losing consciousness, and the distress was compounded firstly by this dangerous and draining trip, then my daughter's health,” she recalled.

After nearly a whole day of driving, they arrived in Syria's village of Bloudan, after which they sought Almazzeh neighbourhood, southwest of central Damascus.

"Days after arriving, this neighbourhood too was bombed," said Anna, referring to Israeli air strikes which on October 2 struck a building allegedly frequented by Hezbollah fighters and Iranian Revolutionary Guards.

"We're scared for our lives and the safety of our kids, but we're doing what we can to look after them. This is the furthest we can be from intense violence, and we'll stay here for as long as the war goes on in Lebanon," she added.

Into the unknown

The war on Lebanon has brought about a reverse in refugees' journeys.

For years, Lebanon has been a home for roughly 1.5 million Syrian refugees, almost one quarter of Lebanon's population, who fled here to safety from the internal fighting that had wrecked their home country over the past decade.

Amidst Lebanon's back-to-back economic crises that were described by the World Bank as one of the worst in the world, Syrian refugees have faced waves of xenophobia, with many accused of using up the country's limited resources.

Malak, a mother of five children, had lived a comfortable life in her home in Al-Nabatieh, in southern Lebanon, until September 23. As Israeli shelling intensified, she wanted to ensure her eldest daughter didn't miss a flight a few days later to Paris, where she attends university.

And so, what began as a journey to Beirut's International Airport which should not have taken over 1.5 hours, lasted 14.

In a quest to escape the bombing, and seeking refuge in relatives' houses in Sidon and Mount Lebanon, Malak struggled to find food or a place to stay. "Shops were empty and restaurants were all packed with IDPs looking for anything to eat," she recalled.

So on September 28, she began another long journey to Syria by car, without a GPS amidst heavy signal distortion, no food and no set destination. The journey took her over 16 hours.

Now, sharing a flat in Damascus with another Lebanese family with 12 people living together, Malak feels she is out of options.

"This isn't ideal, but we're safer here, and there isn't the constant sound of buzzing drones and explosive missiles," she said.

This piece was published in collaboration with Egab.