War in Lebanon: Aid groups struggle to offer food, shelter

In a small kitchen in al-Fawar — a village near Sidon, about 40 kilometers (24 miles) south of Beirut, Lebanon — a dozen women of all ages are cooking rice and chicken in large, gas-fueled pots. Among them, and overseeing every detail to ensure everything runs smoothly, is 42-year-old Zainab Jumaa, president of the Zaituna Association for Social Development.

The women are preparing meals to serve hundreds of displaced people from southern Lebanon, who were fleeing Israeli airstrikes and are now waiting anxiously for a comforting plate of Palestinian-style mansaf, made of rice, tender chicken, and fried pine nuts.

However, Zaituna can only serve food twice a week these days, as the organization's efforts to support displaced people depend on limited day-to-day funding.

"We started cooking every day at the beginning of the escalation of the war in September. But this week, unfortunately, we'll only be able to cook once or twice because we don't have many funds," Jumaa told DW.

The Lebanese Zaituna organization once focused on social projects in Sidon's Palestinian refugee camp Ein El Hilweh, and now temporarily provides food for an additional 150 displaced families fleeing Israel's war against Hezbollah's militia group in southern Lebanon.

One of them is the family of Ghada Al-Ghoul, 44, who fled the bombings to nearby Saida, where she's living together with her five children and 13 other refugees in a $500 (€464) per month apartment. She says she's struggling to buy food because all her money goes toward paying the rent and bills. "I don't know if or when I'll return. It will depend on the outcome of the American elections," she told DW.

For Zaituna, each 100-meal batch, feeding up to five people per meal, costs around $450, but low donations limit their efforts. Since 2006, the NGO is being supported by the South Korean nonprofit Nanum Munhwa, but finds it difficult to raise extra funding from other sources.

"Our work is much more stressful now, we're working under war conditions, with constant sonic booms from Israeli planes unsettling our volunteers and teachers. The pressure is intense, especially with limited funds to keep cooking daily. But we have the courage, and we're pushing through," Jumaa said.

Lack of funding limits support for the displaced

Zaituna's financial woes mirror those of many small nongovernmental organizations working amid Israel's war in Lebanon.

Since Israel began its military campaigns against the Hamas in Gaza and Hezbollah in southern Lebanon in October 2023, more than 3,000 Lebanese have been killed, and over 13,000 wounded, according to the Lebanese health ministry. Israel's bombings and ground offensive in southern Lebanon have displaced more than 1.2 million people and caused widespread destruction — intensifying strain on a state already in economic crisis.

International and local NGOs, alongside private initiatives, have become the primary source of aid for displaced people. Most are now living in temporary shelters like schools, or in rented, often unfurnished homes, but some remain on the streets.

Lebanon's economic crisis and the cost of war severely impact especially smaller, less well-funded nonprofits, reducing their ability to meet basic needs unmet by the Lebanese state's emergency response.

Josephine Zgheib, 46, president and co-founder of Beity Association, a civic and social organization based in Beirut, told DW that they had turned their hostel in Kfardebian, in the mountainous Kisrawan region north of Beirut, into a shelter for displaced people.

The association is primarily self-financed and distributes food, water and clothes, as well as providing psychological support. Their hostel in Kfardebian and five nearby schools provide shelter for a total of about 600 people.

"We had a board meeting on September 23, where we decided to open the hostel to help our people," she said. "It's our duty — we can't let them be on the streets, especially as we are knowing that our government is unable to assist them."

Funding is never enough, she added, as monthly electricity and generator expenses alone totaled around $900. Other essential supplies like cleaning products and drinking water add another $300 to the bill.

Preparing a single hot meal, so Zgheib, costs about $3, but her organization had to reduce the number of days on which they served food to three or four a week due to rising prices. As an alternative, Beity Association has resorted to providing staple foods that displaced people can cook for themselves.

Altogether, the nonprofit's total monthly expenditures are beyond $2,000, said Zgheib, which is a heavy financial burden.

Giving people a 'sense of community'

But even larger NGOs in Lebanon, like the Amel Association, are suffering from the war. With 1,400 staff and 500 volunteers, Amel provides essential support through services like primary health care, education, and women's programs. Due to the war, they have expanded their reach to now also provide emergency aid for displaced people, distributing clothes, hygiene kits, staple foods, and mattresses.

Amel's funding primarily comes from international organizations and embassies, with additional support from private donors through campaigns like the online donor network GoFundMe.

"In normal times, we focus on health, protection, education, livelihoods, and migrant workers," Daniella Khalil, the protection program coordinator at Amel, told DW. "But war has shifted our priorities to immediate needs, and we've begun integrating our activities to give displaced people a sense of choice and community."

Airstrikes in Beirut have damaged five of Amel's centers, forcing the association to rely on mobile units to serve displaced populations, which has increased operational costs due to transportation and field equipment.

Lebanon's caretaker environment minister Nasser Yassin recently stated that $250 million per month was needed to provide for the over one million individuals affected by the war so far. The government, local initiatives, and international aid currently are covering only 20% of these costs, he noted. 

The UN refugee agency UNHCR emphasizes urgent requirements for safe shelters, mattresses, blankets, and cash assistance, with about 348,100 displaced people receiving cash aid from the agency. An inter-agency flash appeal seeks to raise $425.7 million to assist over one million people, with UNHCR requesting $111 million.

For example, Leila Hammad Faraj, 61, lives with her family in a Saida household of 26 people, paying $200 per month after her home in Tyre was damaged by bombs. "I don't receive any money from the government. I have no clothes, nothing," she told DW while receiving her meal from the Zaituna Association.

Communities at their limits

Nation Station, a Beirut-based community kitchen founded after the Beirut port explosion on August 4, 2020, now provides around 4,000 daily meals to several shelters in Beirut and nearby.

Initially funded by founders' savings, they now rely on donations, grants, and a GoFundMe campaign but face a shortage of significant funding to continue beyond the next 30 days.

"We're working day-by-day to assess needs, as they're growing with more people displaced. Right now, sustaining funding is challenging — we're unsure if it's sustainable. In 2020, the situation was different as we distributed food to only about 200-300 people," Josephine Abou Abdo, 32, one of Nation Station's co-founders, told DW.

But despite the economic challenges and stress caused by the war, NGO workers and volunteers continue to cope and strive to mitigate the humanitarian crisis.

Hanan Sa'aadeh, 34, a teacher at the Zaituna Association who has turned to cooking for displaced people, plans to return to her projects with their pupils soon. "Despite the war, I come to work smiling and don't let my feelings affect the children. I won't say I'm worried. We must remain optimistic and give them energy and hope," she told DW.

Nation Station also attracts international volunteers. Arslan, 34, a Franco-Algerian living in Beirut, described the community kitchen as a central hub of solidarity. Lorenzo Marella, 32, an Italian who previously worked with an NGO in Beirut, returned to Lebanon to help, saying "here, at least, you try to do something, stay together, and give strength," despite the frustration and sadness.

Khalil from Amel also highlights the emotional burden on the association. "It's been intense for our team — 90% of Amel's staff have been displaced themselves. It's like we're working with people who are essentially ourselves. This has required us to develop group support and find ways to balance their time on the field with time for themselves."

Edited by: Uwe Hessler