Escalation of strikes brings fear to border towns in Israel and Lebanon
▶ Residents on both sides tell similar stories of death and abandonment as missiles fly into each other’s territory
Many of the civilians forced to flee southern Lebanon have no idea whether their homes are still standing.
Ali Sweid, however, knows that he has no home to return to. The retired soldier’s house in the village of Dhayra was destroyed in October.
Two of his children were injured in the Israeli strike.
The attack was in response to Iran-backed Hezbollah firing missiles into northern Israel in support of its ally Hamas, after the deadly October 7 attack in southern Israel which killed about 1,200 people.
Israeli air strikes and a ground incursion in response has since killed more than 31,700 people in Gaza.
Amid the Israel-Gaza war, the border clashes between Israel and Hezbollah forces in Lebanon have intensified.
More than 318 people have been killed in Israeli strikes on Lebanon so far, mostly Hezbollah fighters, however at least 54 civilians have died according to an AFP tally.
Israel says at least 10 soldiers and seven civilians have been killed in attacks launched from Lebanon.
At least 90,000 people have been displaced from south Lebanon’s border towns, according to International Organisation for Migration estimates. About 60,000 Israelis have been evacuated by the government from 43 northern communities, and many more have also fled.
US-led attempts to find a diplomatic agreement have failed, forcing many on both sides of the border to flee as the strikes continue, with many fearing the situation could intensify.
After his home was destroyed, Mr Sweid moved his family to another house in Dhayra. However, that was also destroyed along with much of the village.
Civilians in the south have been subjected to Israeli planes and drones that fly over Lebanese territory daily, bombarding the region with heavy munitions and white phosphorus. Much of the area is now inaccessible to all but a few residents who have refused to leave their homes.
“Our village has become a front line for this conflict,” Mr Sweid told The National. “Every day we say it’ll be over soon but this keeps dragging on.”
In Israel, Avichai Stern, the mayor of Kiryat Shmona, shares a similar outlook.
The town is one of the many northern Israeli communities that have been evacuated due to the fighting with Hezbollah.
“I have no problem with an average Lebanese person,” Mr Stern said. “I imagine they’re just as scared as us.”
Whenever there is a missile strike on the town, Mr Stern leaves his bunker to observe the damage. He then calls the owners of the property and organises security.
Securing the homes is just one of the many municipal duties keeping him in the town amid the border strikes.
The mayor’s own family left Kiryat Shmona in October.
He has yet to meet his baby daughter, who was born after his family fled.
Despite initiating hostilities on October 8, Hezbollah has been careful to contain them by carrying out proportional responses to Israeli strikes. However, it has used anti-tank missiles, which Israel’s air defence cannot intercept.
In January, Hezbollah chief Hassan Nasrallah praised the “security belt” the group had successfully imposed in northern Israel, forcing the evacuation of Israeli residents, despite many Lebanese people also being unable to return to their own homes.
“This is the first evacuation of the north since the beginning of Zionism,” he said.
Almost all residents of northern Israel’s border towns said they are hesitant to return as long as Hezbollah maintains a presence across the border.
Mr Nasrallah’s comments enraged Mr Stern, but he has dismissed the idea of residents returning to Kiryat Shmona unless Hezbollah strikes end.
The mayor has publicly said he would block the entrance to his town if residents were told to return while Hezbollah remains a threat.
“Obviously residents want to come back,” Mr Stern said. “People have lives.”
In Lebanon, displaced families are also longing for normality as parents try to keep children entertained while living in cramped conditions.
Aseel, a young Lebanese girl living in a school that now serves as a displacement centre, said trips to the theatre with a local NGO are an opportunity to escape the suffocation of refugee life. The 11-year-old lied about her age to go on the trip for older children.
“I hate lying but it’s the only way to go on this field trip,” she said. “I’ll pray for God to forgive me, but I just have to, have to, have to get out of here.” Aseel, her three siblings and her parents have been living in a displacement shelter in a converted classroom in Tyre since they fled their border village of Ramya.
Her mother registered her at a nearby school, but Aseel and other refugees were teased by other pupils.
Now she receives her education online and rarely leaves the shelter.
Her family, unable to work, have little money for excursions outside the camp.
They don’t know what’s become of their house in Ramya, and they don’t know when they may be able to return.
“We look and feel like bums,” Aseel’s mother said, gesturing at her worn-out loungewear. “We’re so sick of this.” She said that a life without work or school had left most people in the displacement centre feeling lethargic and depressed.
Shimrit, who lives in the northern Israeli kibbutz of Kfar Hanasi, has a daughter similar in age to Aseel.
Unlike Aseel, Shimrit’s family returned to their home just outside the government evacuation zone.
The family had voluntarily left their town when the cross-border strikes began.
“We had to return – we feel like tourists anywhere else,” she said.
“Since I’ve been back I’ve been locking all the windows and doors every night.
“It’s tough to explain to the kids. It affects them a lot.
“They ask a lot of questions, things like what’s going to happen if a terrorist gets inside?
“I tell them simply that we have a plan: we have put supplies and bedding in a part of the house that’s hard to find so we can shelter and hide.” Both Lebanese and Israeli civilians said that they know further strikes may follow as tensions mount.
Last month, the cross-border violence was felt in the small Lebanese village of Majdal Zoun, about 6km away from the border, when Amal Al Dorr, five, was killed after an Israeli strike on her home.
Before the strike, the village had largely been spared from aerial bombardment, giving residents a deceptive sense of safety.
Amal and her family were in her aunt’s front garden when the strike flattened the nextdoor building.
Amal was found amid the smoke after the strike. She died a few hours later in hospital.
Amal’s aunt, Manal Al Dorr, said the sound of Israeli shelling interrupted Amal’s funeral.
“This happens every day,” Ms Al Dorr said, gesturing at the smoke billowing from the distant hills amid strikes.
She explained that early on in the bombings, most of southern Lebanon’s residents, who are accustomed to living near the border, faced it with a sense of resolve.
However, she said that this has since changed.
“We were stronger before. We weren’t afraid,” she said.
While impatient to return home, residents on both sides of the border frequently declare their readiness to face off against the enemy if the strikes escalate into a war.
“I have hope that we will triumph over Israel,” Ms Al Dorr said.
Mr Stern has also prepared himself for further escalation. “Hezbollah is today part of the government of Lebanon, which means I am fighting all of Lebanon,” he said.
Our village has become a front line for this conflict Every day we say it’ll be over soon but this keeps dragging on
ALI SWEID
Dhayra resident