I am sat in a minibus in Kola intersection in Beirut, random lines of minibuses awaiting to be filled up, nestled under a bypass and connecting major roads.

There are no signs, no travel departure boards, it’s loud, dusty and chaotic.

I am laden with two travel bags and that misplaced searching look warrants several guiding drivers to direct me to the right bus, fast directional hand movements fit for horse racing bookies...’Chatoura, Chatoura’ they shout.

There is no set off time, it’s all based on bums on seats and I hope another 10 fill up soon. Its 27 degrees, it’s hot, sticky and almost everyone is a smoker. It’s going to be a long trip.

This trip will be on my own, I have just arrived from Saida, South Lebanon, the second of two stops where payment for 2018 Ramadhan iftaari meals, women empowerment projects, psycho social support initiatives for traumatised children were discussed and monetary assistance were made.

I met up with families from Ein El Hilweh, a Palestinian refugee camp, here many families have been displaced or forced out of camp.

I had been told the high concrete wall around the camp has been built, security checks for identity is very stringent and further clashes from my last trip has made it very unsafe to even attempt to enter.

Life for them is challenging. More so, the discrimination is rife if you are a Palestinian in Lebanon.

A mother asks for assistance for school fees otherwise her child will be dismissed from the Lebanese school, another complains her child was rejected during her interview, a job application she was skilled for and to her face she was told she had to be rejected for the job due to her nationality.

They are born in Lebanon but their ancestral nationality is a major hindrance to progress here. Parents who want their children to be educated well are faced with obstacles, which are constantly changing or founded to create further problems.

It makes me feel privileged to have received a good education, not based on my race or heritage or my parents status, opinions of beliefs.

These are factors which can determine your life in this country. I love Lebanon, I love the kindness of people, the love between families and strangers but the discrimination amongst nationalities is unfair and unjust.

Teenagers and soon to be graduates are aware of the difficult challenges ahead.

Meeting a Syrian man on the flight to Beirut we discussed the gender roles of women and men and he emphasised Syrian and Palestinian women are strong.

A man will go out and earn 40 dollars a month, a woman will be able to feed her family on the 40 dollars with amazing resourcefulness.

Women are incredibly strong as witnessed when I met four single mothers raising children in Shatila camp in Beirut in cold damp hovels.

Our meeting was by chance after I had arranged 2018 Iftaari meals for everyone in the camp.

There are four very poor families, they said, if you can be of assistance, we are delivering meat to their homes and you are welcome to join us. And so I did, my heavy blue luggage getting lighter as I handed out warm coats to the families.

The women had lost their partners in tragic circumstances, all were young, resilient and determined to do the best they could. 3 out of 4 were living with other members of the family.

One of the families was 5 year old Palestinian child Khalid, who has Down syndrome, he lost his father to cancer in June 2017 and he pointed out his father to me many times enshrined in the poster hanging in the alleyway.

His mum requested $1,500 to assist Khalid’s Special needs school fees. I am hoping to raise this and pay for his schooling by this September. Any donors would be appreciated.

In 30 mins of working on this article, one more passenger takes a seat on the minibus to Chatoura. Fundraising on a travel and hostel shoestring budget, tests your patience but also gives you time to reflect and offer gratitude.

I can only hope for more trips to be possible so I can continue to support more families.

We are now en route to Chatoura, leaving Beirut and heading towards the mountains. I have just realised you need one loud passenger to jig and clap to the Lebanese music and it soon becomes a party bus.

They now know I am Pakistani and from Britannia which instigates their broken conversation in English and they laugh loudly at their silliness.

Watching young men from Aleppo, Idlib and Damascus laughing loudly make these memorable moments so powerful.

As soon as I leave the bus, 12 smiling faces wave and shout goodbye. A rewarding 2 hours with random strangers.