“There’s no one here we can turn to for protection. Our only hope is in God.” Rana, a mother of five

On the evening of August 4 2020, Rana[1], felt like her whole world had collapsed, as massive shockwaves from the Beirut Port explosions rocked the city. She, her husband and their five children were at home at the time. “At that moment, I knew our lives could never be the same again," she recalls.

Everyone in the family was injured, her husband eventually lost his job and started beating her, and two of her young sons engaged in child labour to help with finances. Their home in Mar Mikhael, near the Port, was destroyed.

"We were already living the stress of Lebanon’s economic collapse, and were six months into the COVID-19 pandemic, with school closures, lockdowns, and disappearing work opportunities," she says. "To then be injured, homeless and destitute, pushed our family and others in our community over the edge."

The abattoir where her husband worked was destroyed in the explosions, leaving him jobless. "Tension built between us, and he started to beat me," Rana says.

"He doesn’t live with us anymore but still comes here every few days to beat me some more"

She rolls up her sleeves to display fresh bruises. “He doesn’t live with us anymore but still comes here every few days to beat me some more. Last time, he threatened to throw me from the balcony. All this, in front of our children.”

Lebanon's mutually reinforcing crises have pushed numerous families into poverty, leading to domestic tensions and an increase in violence – including gender-based violence –divorces and child labour.

Rana's 12-year-old son found a garage owner who offered to train him as a welder. While the deal meant the boy would work for free at first, a desperate Rana agreed, hoping he would later find a better job. But she eventually made him quit as the owner started beating him.  Rana's eldest son, aged 14, now works for tips at a local coffee kiosk, bringing home at most LBP10,000 (US$0.80 at the current black market exchange rate), and sometimes nothing, after a 12-hour shift.

A UNICEF survey conducted in April 2021 showed that 10 per cent of children in Lebanon engaged in some form of paid work.

"Our only hope is in God"

Rana too has found work, as a cleaner, but her meagre salary does not cover the bare necessities. When the family lost their home, they spent three days living in the street, before UNICEF child protection partner Himaya found them accommodation and provided rent support. Rana fears her family will be homeless again once the support ends.

Himaya is also providing psychosocial support (PSS) to Rana and her five children, using a UNICEF PSS kit designed to meet the needs of children and their families affected by the explosions.  The estimated 600,000 children living within a 20-kilometre radius of the explosions likely suffered some level of psychosocial distress.

“Were it not for UNICEF and Himaya, there's no one here we can turn to for protection," says Rana. "Our only hope is in God.”

Immediately after the explosions, UNICEF started distributing emergency supplies and  coordinating with partners to reunite separated children with their families. Together with partners, UNICEF has provided counselling services and set up child-friendly spaces in municipal parks where traumatized children could play and escape the chaos around them.

UNICEF and partners also saved 1.7 million doses of vaccines from a warehouse, rehabilitated schools, restored damaged water supply connections and provided emergency cash transfers to the most vulnerable.

[1] Name changed to protect her identity