Zayoun, 35, said after seeing her children “sizzle on the floor”, she would not want to return even if their home was repaired. “I saw death with my own eyes,” he said.

Zayoun was 17 years old when Israel and Hezbollah last went to war in 2006. Zayoun, who was displaced with his family, said he almost enjoyed the experience, leaving their village with a truck full of belongings, mixing with new people and learning new things. . When the war ended, they returned home.

“But this battle is difficult. “They attack everywhere,” he said. “What do they want from us? Do they want to harm our children? “We are not what they are looking for.”

Reconstructive surgeon Abu Sittah said most of the children’s injuries were caused by explosions or collapsing debris. This attack on an area they expected to be untouchable could have lasting effects.

“The kids feel safe at home,” he said. “The injury causes them to lose their sense of security for the first time – the feeling that their parents are keeping them safe, that their home is invincible, and suddenly their home is no longer that.”

Children were playing in the courtyard of a shelter converted from a vocational school in Dekwaneh, north of Beirut, recently, where about 3,000 people displaced from the south live. Parents were preoccupied with the overflowing toilet that serves one floor of the building where nearly 700 people live.

Playtime alone brings together children from different villages in the south. They were divided into two teams, aged between 6 and 12, and competed to be the first to receive the handkerchief. A little girl hugged and held hands with strangers visiting the shelter. “I am Lebanese. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered into her ears.

The game turned into chaos when two teenage girls got into a fistfight. The pushing and shoving began. Tears and tantrums followed. The little girl walked away in surprise.

Maria Elizabeth Haddad, director of psychosocial support programs in Beirut and neighboring areas for the US-based International Medical Association, said parents in shelters reported signs of increased anxiety, hostility and aggression among children. They talk to parents and ignore the rules. Some developed speech impediments and clinginess. One is showing early signs of psychosis.

“As they grow up, there will be persistent symptoms, especially related to attachment bonds and sense of security,” Haddad said. “This is a generational trauma. We’ve experienced this before with our parents. … They have no stability, nor do they seek (extra) stability. “It will not be easy to overcome this situation.”

According to UN and government estimates, children represent more than a third of the more than 1 million people displaced by the war in Lebanon and following Israeli evacuation announcements (more than 60,000 people were displaced from northern Israel). This leaves hundreds of thousands of people in Lebanon unschooled because their schools are either inaccessible or have been converted into shelters.

Hüseyin’s father says that he and his son have to start from scratch together. With the help of relatives, the two found temporary shelter in a house, which was a short-term relief for the father. “Thank God he doesn’t ask anything about his mother and siblings,” said father Hassan Mikdad, 40.

He has no explanation for his son, who watched his family die in their home. The next day, her two sisters, Celine (10) and Cila (14), were pulled from the rubble. His mother, Mona, was released three days later. He hugged his 6-year-old son Ali.

The strike on October 21 also caused damage across the street at one of Beirut’s main public hospitals; Solar panels, pharmacy and dialysis unit windows were broken. The father survived because he went out for coffee. He watched his building collapse in a late-night air raid. He also lost his shop, motorcycle and car, all evidence of 16 years of family life.

His friend, Hussein Hammoudeh, arrived at the scene to help sort through the rubble. In the alley behind their house, in the darkness, Hammoudeh noticed young Hussein Mikdad’s fingers. At first he thought these were severed limbs, until he heard the child’s screams. He brought out Hussein with glass in his leg and a metal rod in his shoulder. Hammoudeh said he did not know the boy. He held the boy’s nearly severed wrist in place.

Hüseyin Mikdad was now sipping fruit juice while listening to his father and friend in the hospital. His father turned to him and asked if he wanted a Spider-Man toy; This was an effort to prevent a new outbreak of tears. He said he bought Hüseyin a toy every day.

“What I experienced seems like a big lie. …The mind cannot comprehend,” he said. “I thank God for Hussein’s blessing.”