Finding Comfort in a Harsh Reality

“The thought of them not being properly fed keeps me up at night” says Khaled.

Khaled, a 47-year-old Syrian refugee and father of two, wakes up every morning to the sound of his four-year-old daughter, Maya, in the dim light of their garage-turned-home. A space that once built for storage, now serves as a shelter for his family.  

Years ago, in his hometown near Damascus, Khaled described himself as a different man—just a simple man, as he liked to say. He was healthy, he worked hard, provided for his family, and lived happily in their presence. His happiness quickly faded when the conflict in Syria began, changing everything for him and his family. Shortly before fleeing the conflict in Syria to Lebanon, a stray blast had left Khaled with a leg injury that never healed properly – chaining him to the use of crutches and challenging his ability to walk freely. His vision, once sharp, had also been severely affected and now deteriorates with each passing day, fading further into a blur.

After seeking refuge in Lebanon, Khaled had to settle for far less than what he was once accustomed to. His days are slow and careful, he says. Once every two weeks, he takes brief trips to the corner grocery store, crutches scraping against the uneven pavement as he gathers essentials. His wife, the breadwinner of the household, works to make ends meet, while Khaled stays at home, taking care of his children.  

“I feel trapped, without a stable income and no job prospect on the horizon. In this very moment, I am unable to provide for my family as I once did. My vision continues to deteriorate with each passing day and treatment for my legs are beyond what I can afford. I am at a point, where every day I wake up fearful to lose what little independence I have left. The winters are long and cold, and my fragile body bears the brunt. It's a struggle to keep myself and my family warm. I am watching my children grow, and I cannot contribute much to their future. We cannot properly feed them, and we ration whatever we can until the next opportunity to afford essentials. The thought of them not being properly fed keeps me up at night.”

Despite everything, Khaled dreams. He dreams of walking again without pain, of seeing his daughter’s face clearly, of a stable income that would lift his family out of their poor living conditions. He dreams of a life where his children can grow up without the weight and struggles of conflict pressing down on them.

When asked if he sees himself returning to Syria, now that the previous regime has fallen, Khaled shakes his head. "There is no home, no work, nothing left for us there," he says quietly. The conflict took our house, our security, and our hope for a future in a place we once called home. For now, all I can do is hold onto the hope that here, in this small garage, life can somehow become brighter. I am doing the best I can with what I have, and the rest is up to God.”  

Help has come in small, meaningful ways. Funded by UNHCR, and implemented by Medair, the interventions involved rehabilitating the garage to make it more liveable for Khaled, adding handrails, an electric heater for warm water and a proper shower mixer. The walls were also covered with foam boards to insulate the house from the cold and keep it warmer for Khaled and his family. Additionally, Khaled has received sturdy crutches to ease his mobility, along with a bed and mattress to accommodate his disability — a small comfort in an otherwise harsh reality.  

Medair's work in Lebanon is possible with funding from United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), Chaîne du Bonheur, Swiss Development Cooperation through Interaction-CH,) and generous private donors.

This content was produced with resources gathered by Medair field and headquarters staff. The views expressed herein are those solely of Medair and should not be taken, in any way, to reflect the official opinion of any other organization.

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