Suzan Sabonjian (BAPG ’26): Hope in the Shadows of Conflict: Reflections on Lebanon and an Armenian NGO

3 min read

The air in Beirut is thick with memories. In mid-December 2024, I flew from Yerevan to Beirut, just when the ceasefire started. As I landed, I saw tears of joy in the eyes of many Armenian Lebanese who were with me in the same aircraft. Tears that could whisper tales of resilience and survival. We landed with claps, dances, and laughter, feeling like our sweet home welcomed us back, regardless of all the pain this home had within itself. As I was going home, there was rubble from buildings destroyed in the two-month 2024 war. Seeing these rubble and ashes sent a shiver down my spine, which blended with echoes of collective memory and history — a history marked by displacement, rebuilding, and commitment to hope. Moreover, as Lebanon endured another wave of turmoil, all Lebanese were put to another test.

During December 2024 and January 2025, I had the opportunity to finish the first part of my internship at an Armenian NGO in Beirut, the Karagheusian Association, where I worked on a research project and interviewed 100 participants. Primary raw data collection spanned from December 18, 2024, to January 9, 2025, to provide a comprehensive snapshot of the concerned population’s lived experiences and adaptive strategies. The raw data for this research was gathered through random sampling of individuals in waiting rooms across the NGOs’ various facilities, ensuring inclusiveness and avoiding any form of race or gender discrimination. 

This internship was an eye-opening and humbling experience. I spent 70 hours talking to marginalized groups, the majority of whom held hope for a better tomorrow. I sometimes got emotional hearing the population living in Lebanon say, “God willing, we will be better soon.” My eyes teared when some Lebanese lost their homes fleeing from the South and southern suburbs of Beirut, when others shared their medical struggles in affording medicine and surgeries, but then all had hope for a better Lebanon. My heart trembled when a woman, after sharing her difficult life fleeing Syria and finding refuge in an underprivileged area in Lebanon, said, “If the sun still shines, we must have hope in God’s plans.” Everyone thanked me for speaking with them and being a listening ear to record their difficulties. The majority of people were thankful to this Armenian NGO for being the only medico-social center in the area, assisting thousands of marginalized individuals each week. Its kind staff consistently demonstrate compassionate care and are dedicated to providing the best possible humanitarian assistance. I was also grateful to this NGO for being part of my educational journey in politics and governance.

As I board my flight back to Yerevan to continue my studies, I reflect: 

Dear people of Lebanon, you saw cold days during the recent war that further destabilized your  already fragile state. Dear Beirut, your homes got destroyed, your children’s lives disrupted, your youth killed, your bright minds forced to foreign lands, and your streets filled with heavy silence that questioned the endurance of hope in daily living. Yet, at your airport, I was welcomed with smiles that said: ‘Ahla w Sahla’ (English: You are very welcome). Strangers greeted me warmly, smiling and chatting as I collected my luggage. As I stepped outside, I could still hear drones above our heads, yet people embraced their loved ones regardless. Amidst all this darkness, there was light — glimmers of unity and perseverance.

Become a part of the AUA Student Voices series and tell us about your achievements, aspirations, and goals! Submit a write-up through our online submission form and tell us your story! Selected articles will be published on AUA Newsroom.