In Southern Lebanon, shelling has continued despite the declared ceasefire, emptying villages and preventing many families from returning to their homes and agricultural land. Daily life in Marjayoun is marked by repeated displacement, blocked roads and the loss of livelihoods that once sustained the area.
For children and caregivers, the impact of the war is immediate: schools have closed for long periods, learning gaps have widened, and the psychological effects of prolonged instability are visible in fear, isolation and disrupted routines.
“Children are more aggressive, more fearful, and they can’t express what they feel,” says Mayssa Nohra, an AVSI social worker who works at Fadaiii.
Amid this uncertainty, AVSI’s Fadaii community center, located in Klaya in Marjayoun region, has become the only safe place where families can gather. Inside its classrooms, children receive psychosocial support, early-childhood education, and help catching up with lessons lost to displacement, while mothers and caregivers join group sessions designed to rebuild a sense of stability.
The Fadaii center stands on the hill of Klayaa, a Christian village that remained physically intact throughout the conflict. From here, the view stretches to the hill of Khiam, less than two kilometers away: a Shiite village almost entirely destroyed by shelling. Further south lies the border with Israel. From the hillside, the rooftops of the town of Metula are visible, along with an Israeli military outpost that has remained on Lebanese territory even after the ceasefire. Three places only minutes apart, yet shaped in radically different ways by the war.
Entering Khiam means moving through shattered houses, collapsed walls, and broken roads. Many homes still reveal personal belongings and traces of everyday life buried beneath the rubble. This is where Mirvat Kalakech lives. For nearly eleven months, she and her family endured constant shelling, moving from one shelter to another in search of safety. During one of these displacements, her husband and youngest son were killed while tending their livestock. “We lived in extreme poverty and with so much fear,” Mirvat says. After the ceasefire, she returned to her damaged home, which now preserves the belongings of her husband and son, becoming a kind of domestic mausoleum. Today, her children receive support through the Fadaii center and AVSI’s distance support program.
Many of the families attending Fadaii come from villages like Khiam. “After two years of conflict, the main need that emerged was psychological support,” explains Remy Hasbani, AVSI’s coordinator in Marjayoun. “People needed a space where they could meet, talk, and allow children to feel safe again.”
Inside the center, this need takes shape through simple but structured activities: children draw flowers, houses, and imagined places—an exercise that helps them express emotions that are difficult to put into words and rebuild a sense of security. Alongside these activities, Fadaii provides individual and group psychosocial support, early childhood education, remedial learning for children who have missed months of school due to displacement, and group sessions for parents and caregivers. The center also serves as a space open to the wider community, hosting moments of listening, meetings, and collective activities that allow people to reconnect after months of isolation. In an area still marked by instability and fear, Fadaii remains one of the few places where the community can pause, recognize itself, and begin to rebuild a sense of everyday life—even if only for a few hours each day.
