At his small but busy shop in Beirut's Achrafieh neighbourhood, Hammoudi sits stressed and restless at his desk, constantly on the phone. He always asks the same two questions: how much and where?
Yet again he finds himself searching for an apartment for his sisters, displaced by fighting and Israeli orders.
The large Shiite Muslim family originates from southern Lebanon. Its members were among more than one million people displaced during the last month by Israel's invasion.
First they moved to Jnah, in southern Beirut, narrowly missing the assassination of a commander from the Iran-backed Shiite movement Hezbollah. When the attacks increased there and Israel issued forced displacement orders for the entire neighbourhood, they were forced to leave and find somewhere else again.
“The main problem is the price,” Hammoudi says, referring to landlords trying to cash in by increasing prices, or demanding unwieldy long-term contracts.
“But of course we are only talking about 'mixed' areas, Hamra for instance. Other areas there are problems … if you know what I mean.”
Some residents and officials in predominantly Christian areas have expressed concern – to put it mildly – that displaced Shiite communities are harbouring people that Israel may target. Local authorities already vetting tenants are being urged to do so even more. The tension has only risen in the past week after the Israeli killing of an official from an anti-Hezbollah, Christian-led party.
In some parts of the country there had already been calls to tighten the movement of displaced – mostly Shiite – people, but now they are growing stronger. Meanwhile, more than one million Lebanese people remain displaced, many with nowhere to go.
Christian killing
A photo of a smiling Jesus Christ embracing Pierre and Flavia Mouawad sits outside a church in a small village deep inside Lebanon's mountains.
The Mouawads are just two of more than 2,000 victims of Israel's war on Lebanon – but their killings have risked inflaming sectarian tension further.
“Of course there's sadness, but it's also rage,” said Youssef Koteish, among the black-clad mourners in the village of Yahchouch.
Mr Mouawad was a local official in the staunchly anti-Hezbollah Lebanese Forces party, which has long been among those calling for the group to disarm.
The anger of Mr Koteish – like other mourners, and those of a similar political persuasion – is directed less at the Israelis who killed his comrade; and more at the Lebanese government for failing to control Hezbollah, and at the group itself for dragging Lebanon into yet another brutal, deadly war that it did not choose, in support of its main backer Iran.
“We are very disappointed in the Lebanese government, in the army unfortunately. They are not doing their job,” said Mr Koteish.
“When you allow [Hezbollah] to take over the country, when you allow terrorists on the street, living near our houses, this is the result. Nobody is safe, nowhere is safe.”
Mr Mouawad was killed in Ain Saadeh, a quiet eastern suburb of Beirut, on Easter Sunday in circumstances that remain murky. His death resulted from one of several Israeli strikes on perceived safer areas, supposedly attacking people linked to Hezbollah. The strikes have also stirred tension and paranoia among an already exhausted population.
In the handful of villages – largely Christian – in southern Lebanon that still have people living there, displaced people have already been removed after Israeli threats.
The killing of the Mouawads was just one of many incidents sharpened internal divides over Hezbollah, as Israel's strikes expand to new parts of the country.
Then last week, on a day now dubbed “Black Wednesday” in Lebanon, more than 300 people were killed attacks across Lebanon including in busy, commercial areas spared from the conflict until now. That has risked stoking tension further.
“It's a war Lebanon has nothing to do with. Unfortunately these situations are going to keep happening if we don't do anything about it,” said Elias Estephan, a Lebanese Forces MP.
The small village is in the centre of Lebanon's Maronite Christian heartland, deep into the mountains and reached by a winding one-car wide road that cuts through the looming peaks.
Worshippers milled around as grey clouds loomed in the distance – mirroring the ominous mood at the funeral.
Mr Estephan was asked how internal security could be bolstered while respecting the dignity of those displaced.
He insisted that during the last war in 2024, Lebanon opened its armed “wide open” to the displaced and continued to offer what assistance it could.
“However, security is above all. When the security of our people, when the security of our villages, our neighbourhoods, is in jeopardy this is when you draw a red line.
“And unfortunately we don't know … the displaced might be innocent, but whoever is coming to visit the displaced, whoever is coming to hide at the rentals etc are putting everybody else in danger.”
The Lebanese Army investigation into what happened during the strike on the Mouawads continues, but that did not stop the rumour mill turning into overdrive. This was in part due to anti-Hezbollah officials and supporters insisting the target was a Hezbollah-linked operative, echoing the Israeli narrative.
“I think the details don't matter because they are dead,” said Mr Estephan.
The Israeli army has also claimed – without offering any evidence – that Hezbollah operatives are leaving Beirut's southern suburbs for the centre of the capital.
Now the government – but particularly Prime Minister Nawaf Salam – is under fire from some factions from seeking to engage in direct negotiations with Israel.
In recent days, outside the Grand Serail, demonstrators – some who are Hezbollah supporters but others not – made their point on what was an otherwise quiet weekend marking Orthodox Easter.
In Beirut, the government has ordered the security services to beef up their presence, increase patrols and ensure weapons are restricted to the state.
“Today it was Pierre, his wife and their neighbour. Tomorrow it could be you and I. [Hezbollah] is using people as human shields. At the end of the day, the Israelis don't really care who you are,” said Mr Estephan, the Lebanese Forces MP.
