As I sit in the library, studying away my fear of failing my next exam, the sounds of the people surrounding me echo through my mind. Whether it’s the clicking of laptops or the hushed voices of those hunched over their books yelling at others for laughing loudly, these swirling noises provide me with a sense of familiarity and comfort. Then, out of nowhere, a huge boom of a sound barrier disrupts the somewhat pleasant atmosphere. Beneath the façade of calm, I can now feel the anxiety and tension flowing through the room.

At that moment, Lebanese people’s most hated sound dragged those around me back to the harsh reality we live in. Conversations about upcoming tests mixed with whispered worries about the future and the unpredictable scenarios Lebanon faces daily. Despite our continuous efforts to support each other with study advice and ordering food to ease our minds, an overwhelming feeling of discomfort lingers, reminding us that our studies are subordinated to the far more significant issues affecting our country. The weight of uncertainty often feels like a hammer, crushing our dreams and aspirations. Like many other Lebanese youth, I frequently find myself lost in confusion— wondering what kind of life can I build for myself in a place deeply rooted with obstacles.

I think back to the late-night Sunday gatherings, when my family members would gather over crackers and traditional coffee, talking about the state of our country.  They would discuss how even the most basic things like the small cup of coffee they’re drinking now cost a fortune due to the collapsing economy. Every time my cousins and I visit the local market, we are greeted by familiar faces, once beaming with smiles, now worn down by hopelessness and exhaustion. The cost of basic commodities has soared, and families are struggling to make ends meet. Children roam the streets with no families to take care of them and no government to shelter them.

In the midst of this gloomy situation, I remain in awe of the utter tenacity I observe in the Lebanese people. A community that didn’t wait for the government to step in, but rather took matters into its own hands to assist those affected by the war, is a community of complete strength and resilience.  When the war broke out and people began getting displaced to other areas, I witnessed an NGO Ahlouna in my neighborhood in Saida immediately take part in the helping community and I decided to volunteer in the initiative of preparing food for the displaced families.  In the busy kitchen, people from different backgrounds and various ages worked side by side, cooking and packaging meals. Even in the face of such hardship, it was amazing to observe how our common goal brought us together. Laughter and determination filled the air, and it became clear to me that every small action—like wrapping sandwiches—makes a difference. By working together, we can improve the lives of those most in need.

The endurance of the Lebanese community brings us comfort as we manage our fears and worries. Whether through local initiatives or personal acts of compassion, we are redefining resilience. Just the other day, while waiting in line for coffee, an old man started a conversation with me about Lebanon’s remarkable heritage. His nostalgic gaze served as a reminder that, despite the devastation of war, our shared history and connection to one another remain strong. As long as we stay united, Lebanon will continue to rise, time and time again.

Loulwa El Hariri

Loulwa El Hariri is a dedicated first year undergraduate business student pursuing her studies in the American University of Beirut.