At 65, Hassan Seif al-Din did not expect to find himself teaching martial arts to children inside Beirut’s Camille Chamoun Sports City Stadium. Forced to flee his home in Dahiyeh with thousands of others, he now lives in one of the rows of tents that have been set up on the pitch.
The region’s recent escalation of violence has displaced many. According to the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, over a million people in Lebanon were uprooted after Israeli strikes targeted Hezbollah positions, following a wider surge in hostilities that began on February 28. Hassan is one of many who sought shelter in the stadium.
Soon after arriving, Hassan kept up his own training routine — two to three hours a day — and noticed children watching him. He decided to gather them and offer lessons, hoping to give them relief from the fear and uncertainty outside the stadium walls. For him, the lessons are about more than self-defense: they are a way to restore a sliver of normality, build physical and mental strength, and create moments of joy.
One young trainee, Adnan, says the coaching has helped him feel safer and more confident. He explains that learning how to protect himself matters not only for sport but also for peace of mind in the streets.
Hassan emphasizes the therapeutic value of their sessions. Displaced families living in tents carry deep trauma, he says, and training provides a break from constant anxiety. Being part of a team, having a coach, and practicing together gives the children a routine and a sense of belonging they had lost. Sometimes they wake him early, eager to train — a small sign of happiness amid hardship.
The stadium itself has a long sporting history: home to Lebanon’s national team, it has hosted celebrated moments such as the 2011 World Cup qualifying victory over South Korea. It was damaged during the 1982 invasion and rebuilt after the civil war. In 2024 it served as the site of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah’s funeral after he was killed in an Israeli strike, a reminder of how sport and politics intersect in the country.
Local football clubs and officials have tried to help those sheltering in stadiums and schools. Wael Chehayeb of the Lebanon Football Association says he is glad the venue can offer refuge, even as he finds it tragic that a place of joy must serve that role. Clubs including Safa, Nejmeh and Ansar have provided shelter, food and parcels, while second-division side Akhaa’s players and staff have volunteered at schools housing displaced families.
Where possible, players continue to train nearby. Their presence and interactions with families help lift spirits, even though dressing rooms and usual facilities are often unusable.
Life in the stadium is austere and uncertain. Families like Howaida Amin Mzannar’s fled the border village of Aitaroun without possessions after conditions became too dangerous. The daily routine in the tents revolves around basic tasks and mutual support: cleaning, organizing, sharing meals, and trying to recreate a sense of normal life for the children.
Mzannar speaks of psychological pressure and the unknowns ahead, but also of solidarity among neighbors: everyone helps one another, and that collective care becomes the primary comfort.
Hassan says he never imagined becoming both a displaced person and a coach, but he welcomes the role. He says he feels fulfilled teaching the children and hopes to stay and keep training them for months or years, confident that with time he could help develop champions.
For many in the stadium, sport is a temporary refuge — a structured, communal activity that distracts from loss and fear and helps people, especially children, reclaim a small piece of childhood and hope amid upheaval.
Sara Hteit in Beirut contributed reporting to this piece.