In a long corridor inside one of the shelters in Beirut, Ali Hassan Lzein stands behind a simple chair, holding a comb and scissors. To his left is a metal railing where pieces of clothing hang, spread out to dry under the sun, while small locks of hair fall quietly onto the floor. There is no large mirror, no fully equipped salon like the one he was used to—still the work continues.
Ali, originally from southern Lebanon, has worked as a barber for seven years. In Beirut’s southern suburbs, he owned his own barbershop, a place well known to his customers. There, the mirrors were brightly lit, the chairs neatly arranged, and people came not only to cut their hair but also to talk, laugh, and exchange stories of daily life. But two weeks ago, with the outbreak of war in Lebanon, everything changed.
Ali left his shop exactly as it was and departed with many others to a shelter. He didn’t carry much with him—only his bag of tools: the scissors, the clippers, and the comb. Small things, but for him they represent his entire profession.
In the outdoor corridor of the shelter, where sunlight pours in throughout the day, he placed a simple chair and began working.
The place is not a salon, but a passageway where people live their daily routines: clothes hanging from the railing, young men standing and talking, and children passing by from time to time. Yet within this scene, the chair becomes a small station for haircuts.
The only problem is that work is possible only during the day. There is not enough electricity and no lighting at night, so Ali depends entirely on the sunlight that fills the corridor. When the light begins to fade, the workday ends.
Even so, people continue to sit in the chair.
There is no fixed price. Each person pays what they can—sometimes a little, sometimes nothing.
For Ali, what he is doing is a simple attempt to lift people’s spirits, even if only symbolically. In a place filled with anxiety and waiting, a haircut can restore a small sense of normal life.
Ali believes in a simple idea:
that a person should continue doing what they know—even in the hardest circumstances.
It is his way of being part of easing the burden on others.
And still , every morning, when sunlight fills that long corridor, Ali opens his bag again… and begins a new day.
