As a tense UN-brokered ceasefire enters its second day in Lebanon, people have begun returning to their homes to find scenes of devastation and death.
AINATA, LEBANON — Once, this was a quiet market town, a place where poor farmers sold olives to rich neighbours who made their fortunes far away from Ainata, but still spent summers close to home.But Ainata, like other parts of southern Lebanon, was a place of grief and despair yesterday as residents who had fled during more than 30 days of warfare returned to see what was left of their village, taking advantage of a truce that held for a second day. As the returnees took in the scope of the destruction — entire villages laid to waste with barely a building left standing, the dead still being counted — the victorious mood of a day earlier as they streamed back waving Hezbollah flags, quickly evaporated.
In its place rose a deeper-than-ever hatred of Israel, as well as something newer and rarely voiced: anger at Hezbollah for having brought the ire of the Israeli army raining down on their village.
So much for the victory both the Israelis and Hezbollah are crowing about. All this blighted conflict has produced is more hatred, this time for both the Israelis and Hezbollah, amongst the people of south Lebanon, who are tired of living in the battleground of a war that does not really involve them.
First he saw his uncle's house, where an intact 155-millimetre Israeli artillery shell lay amid the ruins of the veranda. At the sight of it, Mr. [Ali] Arbid's depression turned to fury. “My uncle hated Hezbollah,” he said. “Tell the people in Canada how we lived. We had gardens, we had flowers. We're not terrorists.”
Nothing's been solved. No one has won. New seeds of hate have been planted. A ceasefire imposed by foreigners is all that keeps the mayhem from springing up again. Politicians and militants argue about land, about just causes, about holy missions and other abstractions. Babblers like me and many others thousands of miles away bemoan the violence, but otherwise do nothing to stem the tide. We see the Lebanese people themselves as abstracts, and project our own worldviews and bigotries onto their lives, and suggest lofty courses of action, as though people caught between two warring factions have complete control of the events in their lives.
They are not abstracts. They are mothers, fathers, children, shopkeepers, farmers. They went to work, to school, planned weddings, celebrated birthdays, made plans for their futures. Today, they are digging their neighbours and families out the rubble, where once they built homes and lives.
When you next read or hear someone advocating for the righteous cause of the Israelis, or for the just retribution of Hezbollah, remember the people of south Lebanon.
They had gardens. They had flowers.
At the same time, I'm wary of assigning equal blame.
I have had the pleasure of knowing numerous Lebanese, like many Montrealers. Shwarma and shish taouk pitas are as common here as hamburgers. There is great sadness in this city, and while we have a vibrant jewish community here as well, most of them are moderate and reluctant to take sides. When my son was born in the Jewish General hospital, I recall seeing the other babies in the nursery of various colours and creeds. Apart from an elevator that stops at every floor - and kosher rules in the cafeteria - it is a totally secular environment. A reflection of the city as a whole IMHO.
Meanwhile, when I was visiting Columbus Ohio four weeks ago, while hundreds of Lebanese were dying in bombing raids, a church sign pleaded with passing traffic to "PRAY FOR ISRAEL". (I chuckled, thinkg that's the kind of Canada Stephen Harper thinks he's leading.) Back in my home city, people were marching for peace.
If arabs and jews can live side by side so easily here, there is hope for the Middle East (someday) as well.