Safety in an Unsafe Place

This is the second account in a series that brings forth the voices of people from Southern Lebanon who are profoundly affected by the ongoing conflict. Their stories, often unheard, deserve to be heard and acknowledged.


 

Sour, also known as Tyre, is a city that captivates you from the moment you arrive. Its charm lies in the breathtaking beauty of Lebanon’s most stunning beach and the warmth of its people, that make every visitor feels right at home. 

I chose to meet my friend in Sour. Even though the situation was far from ideal and a bit reckless, since Israel is intensifying its war on the south. We both are from the South, and Sour holds a special place in our hearts. Meeting in Sour felt important, and carried a sense of resistance. 

My friend is currently visiting Lebanon. That is already a bold thing to do, as many couldn’t visit this year due to the war between Hezbollah and Israel. He now lives in France after leaving three years ago during the peak of the migration wave upon the economic crisis and the frustration from our failed protests in 2019. He has navigated the toughest period of migration—the first year. Adapting to a new culture, learning a new language, finding a place to live, and, most crucially, securing a job. He shared that he has finally found employment, set to begin in September 2024, a search that took him a full year.

Finding a job in Europe is indeed a significant achievement, especially for Lebanese who are enduring increasingly dire conditions and deterioration with little hope of improvement in the near future.

Yet, there was no excitement in his voice, nor was there a sense of relief. He continues: “Given the current situation of the war, going back to France feels like abandoning my people and my country.” I was taken aback by his statement. I understand how difficult such a decision can be, especially after passing through the first two, most challenging years of migration. Once stability seems achievable, it becomes even harder, and looks illogical to consider going back to our unsafe country. This only explains how intense our emotional state is, and how heartbreaking it is to continue our paths somewhere “safer”.   

He added: “A safe and stable life is a privilege we don’t have in Lebanon. My people are enduring immense stress, fearing a break of a wider-scale war. I want to be here. Staying is a form of resistance, standing by my country, and being present for my family. Under normal circumstances, a stable life abroad would have brought me fulfillment, but the dire reality of the situation, as my homeland is under attack, and my people are constantly facing the threat of displacement or death, fulfillment is out of reach.”

It is one of the most difficult choices of his life. Rationally, returning to a place where stability is emerging would make sense. However, a person’s value is often defined by their principles and stances, by the causes they support and the freedoms they devote their lives to fight for.

“I’m worried that going back to France might undermine my self-respect, and my ethics. My family urges me to cut my visit short and return to France for my own safety, as families often do, loving us unconditionally and prioritizing each other's well-being, even at personal cost. I am also willing to sacrifice my safety and my job, just to be here with them and not abandon them during this critical time.”

Leaving Lebanon is an idea that almost all of us have thought about, and pursued. Many, have left. None of my friends found what they went looking for. A home, peace and safety, and a city that loves them as much as they love her. We leave in an attempt to escape the harsh reality, that our beloved country, which lives in our heart and soul, couldn't contain and hold us, couldn't love us back.  We find ourselves abandoned and hurt, looking for a substitute, a potential home, and a future. A search that seems to be impossible, as no other place can replace the home we’ve left behind. We find ourselves shattered between places, yet our home continues to occupy the largest part of our hearts, creating this guilty feeling of giving up on our cause and using our privileges to leave, a feeling we might never fully overcome.

 

Sour Beach, August 2024.

Sour Beach, August 2024.