Hope and despair coexist in the rubble of Bint Jbeil, the southern Lebanese town that saw some of the fiercest fighting of the war between Israel and the Hezbollah Shiite militia.
”Of course it will rebuild, sooner or later,” says Ali Hassan Bazzi (45) who stopped by the damaged shop of his friend Mohammed Bazzi (32).
”From who?” the younger Bazzi, no direct relation, responds sceptically.
”From the government, from the Arab countries,” his friend answers.
As donor countries meeting in Stockholm on Thursday pledged more than $900-million (â,¬703,7-million) for the immediate reconstruction of Lebanon, Bint Jbeil epitomises the enormity of the task.
The town was the main centre in south-eastern Lebanon. It had a population of 45 000 before the war that began on July 12 when Hezbollah captured two Israeli soldiers in a deadly cross-border raid.
Now it looks as though the best thing to do would be to bulldoze what is left of Bint Jbeil, and start again.
”People need houses,” says Ghassan Idris (43) who returned from the capital Beirut to check on the remains of his home on the edge of town. The house was destroyed by five bombs, he says.
Zaina Maki, a kindly-looking short woman with a round face, points out the crumbled remains of her three-storey home.
”What shall we do?” she asks. ”What shall we do?”
Maki is staying half a block away with a friend, Fatima Baidun, whose home escaped relatively undamaged. They say they have no water, no power and no food.
”Unicef gave us biscuits,” Maki says, laughing.
Told about the Stockholm conference that raised money for shelter, medical care, infrastructure repair, and removal of unexploded ordnance in Lebanon, Maki says, ”Thank you very much.”
Bint Jbeil was a Hezbollah stronghold and the scene of a battle that left nine Isreali soldiers dead in the area on July 26.
”C’est la victoire du sang,” a yellow Hezbollah banner says in French. ”It’s the victory of blood.”
While some men in Bint Jbeil talk at length about Hezbollah’s battlefield exploits, Mohammed Bazzi has no time for either of the war’s combatants.
”I’m not with nobody. I want to live,” says Bazzi.
Much of the merchandise has fallen onto the floor of his electronics and hardware store, leaving him little room to move. The wall is peppered with shrapnel damage.
”I have nothing left,” he says. ”I’m not Hezbollah. Why do they have to do that to me?”
Like many Bint Jbeil residents, he has lived in the United States.
”I came here after 18 years living in the US … I built a new house. I got married. I opened a new shop selling electronics, radios and so on, and this is what happened.”
Bazzi, who lost his house, two cars and a pick-up truck in the war, says Hezbollah promised him $10 000 to build a new home but he has not received any money from the militia and is destitute.
”I got no money. This is all I got, five dollars,” Bazzi says pulling a few Lebanese pounds from his pocket. ”Nobody gives you food. Nobody gives you water.”
His friend Ali Hassan Bazzi, said he had received $2 600, but he would not say from which organisation.
A taxi driver and part-time photographer, he said his car was destroyed during the war.
”So now I cannot work.”
”Nobody has work,” Mohammed Bazzi added.
Ali Hassan Bazzi was optimistic that aid and reconstruction is on its way.
”There is help, but not now… next week, maybe.”
Signs of a tentative recovery were already there. Workers from the local electricity company were repairing cables on the road where Zaina Maki lived. An excavator drove along one of the dusty streets of collapsed buildings. A truck from the Saudi Red Crescent Society carried boxes of water.
”As you can see, there is a lot of damage but the people are strong and the people have a lot of courage,” said Ahmad Baidun (50) fixing his tiny electronics repair shop.
”Now there is no water or electricity but they are trying.” Like the Bazzis, Baiduns are another extended family in Bint Jbeil.
Mohammed Kassem Harajlee (35) reopened his barber shop about three days ago.
”A lot of customers have come because for a long time nobody cut their hair,” says a man getting his grey hair trimmed. A Lebanese American, he declines to give his name.
Bint Jbeil can be rebuilt, he says.
”But it’s gonna take a long time. All the countries are gonna help Lebanon.”
Residents talk of a pledge by gas-rich Qatar to rebuild the town and repair damaged public utilities.
On Thursday, the weekly street market was under way for the first time since a ceasefire on August 14.
Merchants offering shoes, caps, towels, watches, and Hezbollah memorabilia, set up in the middle of a road as they had before the war.
They got only ”a little bit” of business, said one vendor, Hussein Dimascus, but it was a start.
”We want to return to normal life,” said his companion, Mohammed Abdullah.
While the market area in hilly Bint Jbeil’s upper section showed some signs of renewed life, the lower town was largely empty. Old stone buildings had collapsed violently into the narrow streets. Cars were upturned and hurled against the debris as if a tsunami had swept through.
A hole had been blown into the side of a mosque. The wind rattled metal shutters on buildings still standing but punctured with holes like Swiss cheese.
How could you live with no other shops next to you? How could you live with no electricity, with nobody to help you?” asks Mohammed Bazzi, who seems on the verge of tears.
He vows to return to America and never come back but then, a little bit of hope seeps through his despair and he says, more quietly: ”God will give a new life. We’ll start again.” – AFP
