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    • As Israel pushes deeper into Lebanon, fear grows in communities where displaced people have taken refuge
    patheur

    As Israel pushes deeper into Lebanon, fear grows in communities where displaced people have taken refuge

    Sakege Posted on

    Kareem Chehayeb and Malak Harb
    | Associated Press

    Aito, Lebanon — Dany Alwan stood shivering as rescuers pulled remains from the piles of rubble where her brother’s building once stood.

    An Israeli airstrike destroyed the three-story residential building in the quiet Christian village of Aito a day earlier. His brother, Elie, had rented his apartments to a friend who had fled here with relatives from their hometown in southern Lebanon under Israeli bombardment.

    Things were good for a few weeks. But that day, minutes after the visitors arrived and entered the building, he was shocked. Nearly two dozen people died, half of them women and children. Israel said it had attacked a Hezbollah official, as it has insisted in other attacks with high civilian deaths.

    This attack (in northern Lebanon, deep in the Christian heartland) was particularly unusual. Israel has concentrated its bombing mainly in the south and east of the country and in Beirut’s southern suburbs, Shiite-majority areas where the Hezbollah militant group has a strong presence.

    Strikes in traditionally “safe” areas where many displaced families have fled are raising fears among local residents. Many feel they have to choose between helping their compatriots or protecting themselves.

    “We can no longer receive people,” Alwan said as rescue teams sifted through the rubble in Aito. “The situation in the town is very critical and this is the first time something like this has happened to us.”

    War brings out long-standing tensions

    Aito is located in Zgharta province, which is divided between Christian factions that support and criticize Hezbollah.

    Some Christian lawmakers critical of Hezbollah have warned of the security risks that could come with hosting displaced people, mostly from the Shiite Muslim community. They are concerned that many may have family and social ties to Hezbollah, which in addition to its armed wing has civilian services throughout southern and eastern Lebanon.

    Some also worry that long-term displacement could create demographic shifts and weaken Christian participation in Lebanon’s fragile sectarian power-sharing system. The small country has a troubled history of sectarian strife and violence, most notably a 15-year civil war that ended in 1990.

    For decades, Lebanon has struggled to overcome tensions and political stagnation within its sectarian power-sharing system of government. Parliament is deeply divided between factions that support and oppose Hezbollah and has been without a president for almost two years.

    When Hezbollah fired rockets into northern Israel in solidarity with Palestinian ally Hamas in the war-torn Gaza Strip, the move was met with mixed feelings. Critics say it was a miscalculation that brought widespread devastation to Gaza here.

    Many have moved to help.

    After nearly a year of low-level fighting, the Israeli military stepped up its attacks on Hezbollah a month ago, launching daily aerial bombardments and a ground invasion. Most of Lebanon’s estimated 1.2 million displaced people fled over the past month.

    In late September, traffic jams stretching for miles clogged the streets leading to Beirut as people left, some with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

    For many, the violence has driven them to help their fellow residents, crossing sectarian lines.

    Michella Sfeir, who was safe in the north, said she wanted to take action after seeing a photo of a driver pouring water from his bottle into a nearby driver’s empty bottle.

    “The first thing that comes to mind is: How can I help right away?” she said.

    Now she helps prepare meals at a women’s arts center that has become a community kitchen and a drop-off center for donations of blankets, clothing and supplies in Aqaibe, a coastal city north of Beirut. Displaced women who found shelter in the surrounding neighborhoods visit them regularly, while some people involved in other initiatives help deliver hot meals to the shelters at dinner time.

    “We get a lot of questions like, ‘When you go to give aid, are there any members of Hezbollah waiting for you at the door?’” Sfeir said, citing negative reactions in the community from people who perceive the displaced as members of Hezbollah. supporters and family.

    “Some people…asked us ‘Why are you helping them?’ They don’t deserve it; This is thanks to them.’”

    Anxiety increases far from the border

    Although northern coastal cities such as Byblos and Batroun, with pristine beaches and ancient ruins, have not felt the direct pain of the conflict, anxiety is rising in surrounding areas.

    On a coastal road, the busy Jounieh Highway, an Israeli drone crashed into a car earlier this month, killing a man and his wife.

    These rare but increasing Israeli attacks have unsettled northern residents. Many feel divided: should they risk their safety by taking in displaced people or compromise their morals and turn them away?

    Zeinab Rihan fled north with family and relatives from the southern province of Nabatiyeh when they could not withstand the airstrikes approaching their homes.

    But, Rihan said, they found that many landlords cited outlandish rent figures in an apparent attempt to turn them away.

    Some might have acted out of personal prejudices, Rihan said, but it’s likely that most were simply afraid.

    “They were afraid to rent their house to someone who turned out to be a target,” Rihan said. “But this is our current reality, what can we do?”

    For some, helping is a sense of duty

    A resident of a northern town near the coast said the local government did not want to take in the displaced, but many residents pressured the municipality to change course.

    He cited the city’s common sympathy and sense of duty to help others, despite security risks. He spoke to The Associated Press on condition of anonymity for fear of creating tension among residents.

    Elsewhere, in the mountain village of Ebrine, a stone’s throw from Batroun, residents have regularly visited dozens of displaced families taking shelter in two modest schools. This month, an Israeli attack hit a village a short drive away, but that hasn’t stopped some residents from hiring the displaced, for some, to work in olive groves during the harvest season.

    Back in Aqaibe, some displaced women from nearby areas have joined Sfeir and others as volunteers in the kitchen: chopping vegetables, cooking rice in tubs, packaging meals in plastic containers and drinking coffee together on the balcony.

    “The fact that we are in an area that does not have direct conflicts or direct wars does not mean that we are not worried about Beirut or the south,” said Flavia Bechara, founder of the center, while taking a break. chopping onions and potatoes. “We all ate olives and olive oil from the south, and we went there to buy fruits and vegetables.”

    Bechara and several women finished packing dozens of meals for the day and a group of women came to pick up winter clothes for their children. Bechara said he is not bothered by the criticism or questions he receives from some of his neighbors.

    “There is always anxiety,” said Bechara, who recently could hear strikes a short distance away in Maisra. “There is always (the fear) that what is happening there could happen here at any time.”

    Sakege
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