Tuesday, February 11, 2025

The Weight of War: A Humanitarian’s Journey Through Suffering and Hope in Lebanon

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Beirut, a city steeped in history and personal significance for many, including myself, has become a poignant backdrop for the unfolding humanitarian crisis. My time spent living and working in this vibrant city between 2019 and 2021 has left me with a deep connection to its streets and its people. However, the memories I cherish are now overshadowed by the suffering that has engulfed the community. The ongoing conflict has transformed schools into makeshift shelters, where families, once filled with hope and dreams, now grapple with the harsh realities of displacement and uncertainty.

As I walk through these shelters, I see children sleeping on cold floors, their innocent faces etched with confusion and fear. They wonder why they cannot return to their homes, while their parents live in constant dread of the next airstrike. Each visit is a reminder that the people I meet are not merely seeking temporary aid; they yearn for the return of peace and the safety of their homes. Their dreams revolve around a future where their children can grow up free from the shadows of war.

In September, I encountered a friend whose life had been shattered; his wife and mother were left to sleep on the streets, a stark reminder of my own harrowing journey from Syria in 2014. I crossed into Turkey under the cover of darkness, desperately seeking safety. My months spent moving between shelters in Turkey and Iraqi Kurdistan were filled with uncertainty, a feeling that has become all too familiar for many displaced individuals today.

Having dedicated over a decade to humanitarian work with Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), I have witnessed the fragility of life in crisis zones across the globe. From Syria to South Sudan, Ukraine to Ethiopia, each mission has revealed the resilience of those affected by conflict, yet it has also exposed the limitations of humanitarian aid. Despite our best efforts, the root causes of these crises often remain unaddressed, leaving communities in a perpetual state of suffering.

The exhaustion I feel is not solely my own; it reflects the collective fatigue of humanitarian workers who witness the same heartbreaking stories day in and day out. We heal wounds and provide essential care, but the bureaucratic obstacles and political agendas often hinder our ability to deliver lifesaving aid. The frustration of negotiating access for assistance with armed groups is a burden that weighs heavily on our shoulders.

Statistics from the United Nations indicate that over 100 million people worldwide are currently displaced due to conflict, violence, and persecution. This staggering number underscores the urgent need for systemic change. As I walk through the camps in Iraq, temporary shelters in Lebanon, and overcrowded hospitals in South Darfur, I see individuals who are not just tired; they are broken. They have survived unimaginable horrors, and the psychological scars they bear are profound.

Yet, amid the despair, there are moments of humanity that reignite my hope. A mother’s grateful smile after I treat her child or an elderly woman thanking me for providing her with diabetes medication serve as reminders of the resilience that persists even in the darkest times. These small acts of kindness and gratitude fuel my determination to continue this vital work, even when the challenges seem insurmountable.

My journey began in Aleppo, a city that was once my home, where I studied medicine and built dreams for the future. The war that erupted in 2012 shattered those dreams, forcing me and millions of others to flee. The emotional toll of displacement is profound; it chips away at one’s sense of peace and belonging. Each move is haunted by the fear of the next tragedy, a reality that resonates deeply with those I serve.

As I reflect on my experiences, I am reminded of the importance of solidarity and the impact it can have, even in small doses. The tiredness I carry is a shared burden among humanitarian workers, nurses, midwives, and doctors who stand on the front lines, striving to make a difference in a world that often feels indifferent to suffering. The exhaustion is palpable, but it is not defeat.

What I long for is not just an end to my fatigue but an end to the need for humanitarian workers to operate in war zones. I dream of a world where families are not torn apart by violence, where children can grow up in peace, and where doctors can focus on healing rather than merely surviving. I envision a future where I can be with my son, surrounded by the love of family and friends, in a place where peace is not just a distant hope.

While I may be tired, I remain resolute. As long as there are lives to be saved and work to be done, I will continue to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. My hope is that one day, the world will no longer be so exhausted, and the need for humanitarian aid will diminish as peace takes root in the hearts of communities once ravaged by conflict.

Dr. Ali Almohammed, an emergency medical coordinator with over a decade of experience in humanitarian work, continues to serve in Lebanon, leading medical responses in some of the most challenging environments. His commitment to alleviating suffering and advocating for systemic change remains unwavering, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

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