As a tenuous ceasefire took hold between Israel and Hezbollah, ending over a year of devastating conflict, tens of thousands of displaced Lebanese streamed back to their shattered villages in the country’s south. The journey home was marked by a mix of relief, heartache, and uncertainty as residents confronted the scale of destruction that awaited them.
Sisters Zeinab and Dina Beezeh were among the first to make the trek from Tripoli, where they had sought refuge for 64 long days. “We were laughing and crying at the same time when we heard the news of the ceasefire,” Zeinab recounted, her voice trembling with emotion. “It was like a dream.”
The coastal road leading south was soon choked with traffic as cars laden with mattresses and families squeezed together made their way home. Along the highway, crowds cheered and waved flags, celebrating the long-awaited reunion. Lebanese soldiers and paramedics greeted the returning residents with words of comfort: “You’ve arrived safely, thank God.”
A Landscape of Destruction
But as the winding roads led deeper into the southern villages, the jubilation gave way to somber silence. The extent of the damage was staggering: rubble and downed power lines littered the streets, windows were blown out, and entire homes reduced to splinters. Overripe fruit hung heavily from untended trees, a poignant reminder of the lives interrupted.
In the town of Zibqeen, Zeinab and Dina found their home in ruins. “We feel happy and sad at the same time,” Zeinab confessed, cradling her young son. “Thank god we are home, but we are heartbroken over all those we lost.” The sisters, like many others, would have to seek shelter elsewhere for the night.
Resilience Amid the Rubble
Undeterred, the residents of Zibqeen began the arduous task of clearing the debris, armed with little more than brooms and an unyielding spirit. “It will take a while, but we will rebuild,” Zeinab declared, her words echoing the determination of her fellow villagers.
In nearby Bint Jbeil, barely a kilometer from the Israeli border, the scene was equally grim. The local hospital lay in ruins, its entrance shattered. The adjacent mosque had collapsed, its once-majestic green dome now a surreal sight amid the destruction. Returning residents paused to document the surreal scene, a testament to the resilience of their faith.
The Price of Victory
As Hezbollah fighters and supporters celebrated what they claimed as a victory over Israel, the human toll of the conflict was laid bare. Mohammed, a resident who had weathered the onslaught, mourned the loss of his nephew, a young fighter whose image graced his phone. “I am proud of his martyrdom,” he asserted, gesturing to the ruined city. “Blood is the price we pay for freedom.”
For the residents of southern Lebanon, the ceasefire brought a reprieve from the relentless violence, but also a daunting challenge. Homes needed to be rebuilt, the dead mourned and laid to rest, and the long process of healing begun. As the afternoon light faded and distant gunfire signaled the fragility of the truce, the villages emptied once more.
“We don’t know where we will sleep tonight – maybe Sour – but we will come back tomorrow,” Zeinab vowed, her words a testament to the indomitable spirit of a people determined to reclaim their land and their lives from the ashes of war.
The road ahead for southern Lebanon is long and uncertain, the scars of the conflict etched deep into the landscape and the hearts of its people. But as the first waves of residents return, their resilience and unity offer a glimmer of hope that life, in time, may yet flourish again amid the ruins of war.
