A drone hovers above as Nour Shawaf answers her phone in Beirut.The sound is inescapable.She describes the constant buzzing that fills the sky, whether she’s working or comforting her four-year-old son at home.
For her, the presence of the drone means she spends her nights next to her son while he sleeps.
Trying to explain the drones to him is impossible. She remarks, “You cannot explain to a four-year-old what’s happening.””He keeps asking about the sounds we hear. Why is there a buzzing noise overhead? Why won’t it stop? Why does his school close sometimes? Why are we confined to our home? And I simply cannot find the words,” she adds.
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“Those sounds are frightening… they make him want to hide… to cling to me, to hold on tight and not let go because he just doesn’t understand what’s happening or why it’s happening,” Ms. Shawaf explains.
She serves as the Regional Humanitarian Policy and Advocacy Advisor for Oxfam.
Her organization assists people in accessing clean water, mattresses, sanitary products, and food.Ms. Shawaf feels hopeless in her situation because she cannot completely shield her son from the dangers around them.
“He hides behind me, believing I will protect him,” she says.
“At times, I feel that my small acts—hugging him, lying next to him, or letting him hide when the drone is overhead—are my attempts to protect him. But deep down, I know how impossible that is, which adds to the stress,” she recounts.
“It’s even more traumatic for me to realize that my efforts to safeguard my child may be futile,” she adds.
Fear has become part of her daily existence.
“I’m terrified. Every moment of the day fills me with dread because I simply do not know what will happen next. I am uncertain if Israel’s next attack will be on my neighborhood, my workplace, my son’s school, or during our return home from school—assuming the schools are even open,” she shares.
The sound of airstrikes is particularly chilling.
“Airstrikes are the most frightening because you cannot gauge their proximity or what has been targeted,” she states.
“The first explosion leaves you wondering if a second one will follow…with the tactics being used—multiple strikes and the destruction of specific areas and villages—there’s always that haunting thought: Will I be next?” she questions.
The 34-year-old is seven months pregnant and expecting a baby boy in December.
With the bombardments occurring, she feels a profound guilt about having a second child.
“Truthfully, with each strike, each sonic boom or simulated attack, it resonates deep within me,” she confesses.
“It feels as if the life within me senses my fear, and I wrestle with feelings of guilt.”
“I feel guilty over carrying a new life amid such chaos and catastrophic conditions,” she adds.
“I cannot fathom how I will give birth in these circumstances. How will I care for a newborn who will require essentials that may not be available if the situation persists?” she wonders.
“We see people struggling to find milk and diapers. So, I can only imagine how dire things will be in two and a half months if there is no ceasefire,” she states.
Ms. Shawaf is uncertain about her access to maternity services come December.
Still, she emphasizes that she cannot afford to think that far ahead, as living in Lebanon is all about survival.
“I do not have the luxury to consider: how will I survive in the next two months? How will I give birth? Where will that happen, and will I have access to a hospital?”
“We have witnessed mothers who have given birth in shelters. We’ve seen those who are unable to breastfeed due to the trauma they experience. We’ve seen mothers struggling to care for their children, and I am not naive enough to think I would be spared if that should happen to me,” she cautions.
People have abandoned everything while fleeing from Israeli bombings; they have nothing left, she explains.
“Since the escalation began, Oxfam has been providing aid to those who have been displaced,” she notes.
“We are supplying clean water, mattresses, and bedding kits. We’ve seen people sleeping on the streets on concrete without any shelter. We’re also providing food and essential items so they can eat,” she explains.
“Those sleeping on the streets are generally individuals who have lost everything, telling us how they had to flee quickly when the air strikes began,” she shares.
She notes that while some evacuated after receiving warning, others experienced minimal alerts and were bombed while trying to evacuate their villages and homes.
She highlights that due to the economic collapse in 2019, individuals are struggling more than they did during the 2006 war.
“Prior to the recent escalation, we knew that Lebanon was grappling with food insecurity due to the economic crisis. Today’s situation is worsening because people don’t have access to employment,” she elaborates.
“Ultimately, if people can’t work, they can’t earn income, and the escalating prices of food amidst anticipated shortages are increasing,” she points out.
“People are faced with excruciating decisions: Do I feed my children today with the last of my money? Should I save it for tomorrow and next week to ensure they have food later? Do I buy medicine for my elderly relatives? Should I look for a smaller, safer place for my children to live?” Ms. Shawaf contemplates.
