'No One Understands Our Pain': Inside Lebanon Where the Displaced Still Await Political Pathway |
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On the night a ceasefire in Lebanon was announced, Amal and Hezbollah urged the over one million people displaced by the war to delay their return home until things were safer. But unwilling to wait even for daybreak, families began to stream back to southern Lebanon the minute midnight struck.
Israeli strikes had destroyed almost all bridges linking northwest to southwest Lebanon. Lebanese soldiers established a temporary crossing over the damaged Qasmiya Bridge, allowing cars to pass one by one, while others chose to cross on foot. Some beat the long wait by driving their cars directly through the Litani River.
Among those returning was Zeinab Nassereddine, who went home with her family to their village of Yater.
“We knew the risk. We knew Israel might continue bombing, but we couldn’t wait,” she tells Mada Masr. “We just needed to see the village, even for a moment.”
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But the relief of homecoming was tainted for many. Israeli strikes continue without warning and have expanded north of the Litani River, and as Hezbollah voices its intention to hit back, there is a constant fear that wider scale fighting could break out at any time and any moment.
The situation has left families unable to predict if they would have the time or option to reach safety if caught in the fray. At the same time, Israeli forces have continued their destruction, demolishing homes and infrastructure in villages over recent days including Beit Lif, Shamaa, Bayyada and Naqoura, as well as Mays al-Jabal and Bint Jbeil.
People from the south and Dahieh who spoke to Mada Masr about their situation since the ceasefire began on April 17 have voiced uncertainty about the return. For them, the ceasefire has not translated into a sense of safety, but instead a state of limbo: unable to return fully, they are left instead with deepening feelings of heartbreak and frustration.
The risk attached to returning weighs on their thoughts as they talk through the conditions forced on them and the limited options at hand to avoid exposing themselves and their families to further danger.
Their hesitation reflects a wider reality across the south and in Beirut where people are still sleeping in streets and shelters, unable to go back to areas that remain occupied by Israeli forces.
And that lack of clarity has translated into conversations playing out in political quarters and international capitals about the future of Lebanon.
While the ceasefire was extended for three weeks in talks between the Americans, Israelis and Lebanese in Washington DC last week, the political pathways on the table for Lebanon, diplomats, analysts and politicians say, will do little to clarify the situation for a country and a people now in limbo.
When Zeinab Nasereddine arrived in Yater, in the Bint Jbeil district, the day after the ceasefire, the destruction was immediately visible. Her home was still standing, but windows were shattered, walls were damaged and fragments from missiles were scattered inside.
“At least we still have a house,” she says. “Many don’t.”
The family began cleaning and briefly considered staying. The sight of their house, the village and their neighbors, even with damage and destruction still marking the streets, brought a quick sense of relief. After a month and a half of living in other people’s houses, being back, even in this fractured state, felt like a possible return and end to the pain of separation.
But basic services are unavailable. There is no electricity, solar panels are damaged, and with the roads compromised and the looming threat of ongoing violence, there is little expectation of quick repairs.
Unlike during the 2024 ceasefire, Hezbollah is yet to mention repairs or approach residents to survey, assess and compensate damages, and Nasereddine’s family does not expect them to any time soon given it is such a short truce that may not hold anyway.
“We can’t fix anything if we don’t know whether it will be destroyed again,” Nasreddine tells Mada Masr.
She and her family stayed for only one day after the ceasefire before returning to Beirut, driven back by uncertainty.
Back in the capital, which has seen a relative calm in the wake of the devastating Black Wednesday attack, Rola Mostafa has returned to her home in Haret Hreik, despite the sweeping scenes of destruction throughout the area. At home, glass from the windows was shattered and some of the rooms need repairs, but she says returning is worth the work.
“Your home is always worth it,” she tells Mada Masr. “There’s no feeling that compares to being in your own home, even if you were displaced to a palace.”
Still, she remains prepared to leave again if necessary. She explains that her family is aware they cannot permanently settle back in Haret Hreik yet and have kept their belongings packed in an apartment they are renting in Aley.
The sense of danger feels imminent for many. Even in the hours leading up to the ceasefire, the Amal Movement’s Executive Committee head, Mustafa al-Fouani, called on families to exercise caution and patience before returning home, while Hezbollah warned that Israel has a history of violating agreements, urging civilians to wait until the situation becomes clearer.
And in the short duration of the ceasefire so far, Israel has continued to pound villages across south Lebanon and has announced its continued operation in the south, renewing its displacement orders for residents in an area spanning the south of the Litani River and spilling over to its north at Yohmor; the high-point of the southern front where views stretch all the way to the western coast and east over the valley plain of the Beqaa — effectively occupying a strip that stretches over eight kilometers into Lebanon at points and includes 55 villages.
Some of these areas have remained partially inhabited since the war broke out, particularly villages with mixed or non-Shia populations. Residents are still living in the Christian village of Debel, near Bint Jbeil in the central sector of the southern front, despite being entirely cut off from the outside world for weeks since Israel launched its encirclement operation on Bint Jbeil. Movement in and out of the village is severely restricted and Israeli forces have destroyed 20 of the village’s houses.
Before the ceasefire, ongoing Israeli bombardment meant that aid could not reach Debel and nearby Christian villages such as Ain Ebel and Rmeish. Even the Vatican’s ambassador to Lebanon was unable to gain access to enter.
But “people finally got some sense of relief during this ceasefire,” George Younes, the Debel municipality spokesperson, tells Mada Masr.
On April 20, an aid convoy accompanied by the papal envoy finally reached the village where residents gathered to welcome them. “The aid included vegetables, water and medicine,” Younes says, adding that it comprised offerings from several initiatives that were waiting for a safe corridor to deliver supplies.
Younes says that, in Debel, some residents had managed to return to homes that were previously occupied by Israeli forces, where they found leftover food supplies.
But access to the........