Often displaced and unable to return to their devastated villages, residents of southern Lebanon are struggling with soaring rents and feel betrayed by Hezbollah, accusing it of failing to fulfill its promises.
Kfar Kila, Odaisseh, Taybeh, Mays al-Jabal and Wazzani were once renowned for their lush fields filled with fruit trees, their majestic hills and the streams that enlivened the area with their soft murmurs. Life there was simple, with days unfolding peacefully to the rhythm of family rituals and traditions. Then came the war. It was the beginning of a long and harrowing ordeal that continues to this day.
Repeated Displacement: Losses and Challenges
Over 100,000 people have fled southern Lebanon, but what many may not fully realize is that a significant number among them have faced repeated displacements that have depleted their savings.
The Reslane family experienced their first crisis in October 2024, when Hezbollah decided to open the southern front with Israel. “Everything changed on an October day. We were getting ready to tend to our olive field when alarm sirens echoed in the distance. We left, taking only a few personal belongings and the hope of returning one day,” says Abu Ziad with a heavy sigh.
Unlike those who rushed back to their villages on Sunday, Abu Ziad prefers to wait. The situation in the border area remains highly unstable, as shown by the incidents over the weekend.
Ahmad feels the same. “We left our village, Khiam, where I was born and where I have many fond memories. My family initially took refuge in the nearby village of Ebl el-Saqi, where renting a house requires at least $500 a month, but the war soon caught up with us. We moved more than three times—first to Nabatiyeh, then to Habboush and finally a bit further, to the outskirts of the Nabatiyeh district. Each time, we desperately searched for a safe place. Every move was a new blow and cost us even more. At the beginning of the hostilities, residents of Nabatiyeh and expatriates from Africa generously offered their homes in a show of solidarity with the displaced from the border villages. But soon, they began asking for payment. Rents ranged from $200 to $700. Every time we thought we were safe, we found ourselves forced to flee again,” recounts this displaced person from Khiam.
In addition to people’s anxiety, there is economic hardship. Farmers who saw their lands devastated are now without any means of livelihood, watching in horror as their meager savings dwindle. Others found themselves unemployed and without resources, desperately fighting to support their families and provide them with decent shelter. Taking advantage of the plight of the displaced, many landlords raised their rents, especially after Hezbollah announced it would cover the rental costs for those who had lost their homes. “I tried to rebuild my life with my small family and my parents, but the explosions kept following us, and we were forced to move further and further away. With each displacement, we struggled to adapt to a new environment,” says Oula, a mother of several children.
Compensations: Limited Financial Support
Hezbollah, the dominant paramilitary force in the region, promised compensation to those affected by the war. The displaced hoped for substantial support that could help them rebuild their lives. However, they were let down. “The aid falls far short of our expectations and the bare minimum. The $200 allocated to each displaced family per month are inadequate to cover essential needs,” says Oula.
This physical and emotional strain is further exacerbated by the uncertainty surrounding housing security. “We are facing significant economic pressures. Hezbollah has forced us to go through notarial procedures to formalize rental contracts,” adds Oula.
This process has added another layer of complexity and stress, with beneficiaries having to navigate the bureaucracy, which brings additional costs, while also managing their daily needs.
Despite these formalities, rent payments are often irregular. In addition, “many families have not received any assistance due to clear favoritism,” says Ramzi, a farmer who was recently forced to sell his farm at a drastically low price.
“Without a job and without adequate support, we are disappointed by Hezbollah's contribution to covering part of the rental costs,” he adds. “Landlords are now demanding rents up to $600, even $750 per month. We are accumulating losses and face one disappointment after another. We believed that the aid promised by Hezbollah would offer us some kind of relief, but the reality is far different. The promises made by local Hezbollah officials quickly vanished.”
“The rents are sky-high, and finding decent housing is impossible. We receive a small amount of money, which forces us to choose between medicine and food. It's truly a daily struggle,” explains Fadia, her despair evident.
Naya, a young bride from Mays al-Jabal, lost her home just a few weeks ago, located in the so-called red zone in southern Lebanon. She recalls, “I first moved in when we returned from our honeymoon in October 2023. I’ve always loved this house that my husband and I set up together. For years, we saved part of our salaries so that every corner would reflect our dreams. It was a beautiful, warm and comforting place where I always felt safe. Now, I find myself constantly adjusting to new environments. Displaced to Nabatiyeh, I was going about my day when a strike targeted a nearby building. With the escalation of hostilities, we had to move a second time, to Dik el-Mehdi, north of Beirut, where we rented an apartment with my parents and in-laws, without any help from any political party, especially not Hezbollah. My only concern today is stability. How long will we live like this?”
Amer sits alone in the shade of a tree. He is from Hula, and he fled to the southern suburbs of Beirut as Israeli airstrikes intensified. “Some were able to get Hezbollah to pay for an apartment, while others had to squeeze into overcrowded homes with relatives, hoping they wouldn’t have to wait too long before returning home,” he confides.
The frustration and resentment among the displaced continue to grow due to the inadequacy of compensation ($1,000 were promised for families who suffered partial damage to their homes, and $12,000 per year for those displaced from the border region who lost their homes entirely). However, the amounts provided are often negligible.
Many displaced individuals are eager to return to their villages as soon as possible to rebuild their lives.
Since the ceasefire was established on November 27, 2024, the Israeli military has restricted access to 64 villages along the southern border still under its control, and in some cases, opens fire on those who attempt to enter.
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