When the bombs start dropping, most people run. Houssein Hamze stayed.
While a quarter of Lebanon's population fled their homes following the outbreak of the war that began in March 2026, fifty-seven-year-old Hamze refused to leave. He stayed behind in south Lebanon to look after the abandoned dogs, cats, and livestock that had nowhere else to go. His mission wasn't just about charity. It was personal. Twenty years earlier, during the 2006 conflict between Israel and Hezbollah, a stray dog's frantic barking woke him up moments before a bomb struck his home, saving his life.
Staying behind meant facing constant danger from overhead drones and airstrikes. Yet, day after day, Hamze drove his beaten-up truck across southern villages, handing out dry food to terrified, tied-up animals left behind by fleeing owners.
Building a Lifeline Under Fire
Operating out of the Mashala shelter in the village of Zefta, Hamze has spent decades taking in strays. But normal rules disappear when a war zone erupts. During the height of the recent fighting, roughly fifty dogs walked into the shelter entirely on their own, driven by hunger and fear.
The shelter isn't home to just dogs. Hamze also cares for farm animals and rescued wildlife, including two camels named Jamoola and Jamool that he brought down from the Bekaa Valley.
Moving through southern Lebanon during active combat required grim calculations. Israeli drones hovered constantly overhead. To protect himself, Hamze plastered a "Mashala" animal shelter sign on the roof of his truck so airborne surveillance could identify his vehicle, though he knew it provided no absolute safety.
The Cost of Compassion in a Crisis
War exposes human character, and it tests our treatment of the vulnerable. When families scramble to evacuate under shelling, pets are often an afterthought. Many animals were found tied to fences or left locked inside empty homes. Hamze and his small group of remaining neighbors made it their daily duty to cut chains, kick open gates, and drop water buckets wherever they could.
The physical toll was immense. Hamze worked alone through the most dangerous periods without a single day off, completely drained by the relentless demand.
Animals remember trauma, too. Dogs like Lulu, who survived an airstrike that tore away part of her tail, required intensive medical care and a safe place to heal from shell shock.
Moving Forward After the Ceasefire
With a ceasefire bringing a tentative quiet to the region, the immediate threat of falling shrapnel has faded, but the workload has exploded. As displaced residents trickle back to ruined neighborhoods, phone calls and WhatsApp messages flood Hamze's phone—around five hundred notifications a day reporting stranded or injured animals needing urgent assistance.
Viral videos of his dangerous food runs during the conflict brought global attention and a wave of much-needed donations. Even so, resources remain tight compared to the overwhelming scale of need across south Lebanon.
Hamze remains blunt about what this work teaches us about humanity. Compassion isn't divisible. If you fail to care for animals, you won't care for people either.
Check local verified animal welfare organizations operating in conflict zones if you want to support boots-on-the-ground recovery efforts. Share stories of grassroots rescuers who keep going when formal aid networks break down.
