A picture taken on 14 December 2023 shows a destroyed house following Israeli bombardment of the southern Lebanese village of Aitaroun. [Getty]
With just days left in the 60-day ceasefire period that is meant to halt 15 months of violence between Israel and Hezbollah and allow Lebanon‘s displaced to return home, Muhammad Awada and thousands like him see little hope of returning to their border villages as Israeli troops continue to breach the agreement.
In 2020, during the height of Covid-19, 65-year-old Awada moved his family from Beirut to Aitaroun, a tranquil hamlet in southern Lebanon, in search of calmness. Life in the village offered relief from the chaos of the capital, and soon, Awada’s children opened businesses and attended college, building a promising future in their ancestral home.
But in October 2023, Aitaroun became the target of relentless Israeli attacks after Hezbollah fired rockets at Israel to pressure it to end its genocidal war on Gaza. The destruction forced Awada and countless others to flee. “We left Beirut for peace, but now even this village has become a nightmare,” said Awada.
The 27 November ceasefire agreement stipulated that Israeli forces would withdraw from southern Lebanon while Hezbollah would remove its militants and weapons, enabling the return of 1.2 million displaced people. Yet, as the deadline approaches, Aitaroun remains off-limits, with Israeli tanks stationed in the area and ongoing shelling breaching the ceasefire.
Many villagers fear they’ll never be allowed back.
“Returning home is a far-fetched dream,” said Awada. “The land is littered with explosives, and the incursions remind me of 1982 when Israeli troops stormed our villages and arrested people at will. We’re no longer pinning our hopes on returning—it’s like a landmine that could take years to clear.”
Entry denied and warning shots
Zainab Mansour, a 35-year-old marketing professional, fled Aitaroun in October alongside Awada’s family. Since then, the village has faced near-daily Israeli airstrikes, destroying hundreds of homes, farmland, and essential infrastructure.
Unlike the roughly 580,000 displaced who rushed back to their homes after the ceasefire, Mansour waited until mid-January to attempt her return, hoping that the security situation would have improved by then. Stopped near Bint Jbeil Hospital, just kilometres from Aitaroun, she waited hours for clearance from the Lebanese army but was ultimately denied entry. “I heard explosions from the village,” she said. “Then I was told my grandmother’s house was destroyed.”
Lebanon’s newly elected president Joseph Aoun stressed this week the urgent need for Israel to withdraw its military forces, in accordance with the November ceasefire agreement. However, the ongoing presence of Israeli tanks and continuous raids have made it virtually impossible for civilians to safely return.
Other residents who tried to return faced even greater risks. Rumours circulated in WhatsApp groups suggesting the Lebanese army had arrived to secure Aitaroun, prompting some to venture back. They were met with warning shots from Israeli forces.
Fares Mawasi, who asked to be referred to by a pseudonym for security reasons, attempted to return in December, only to find his house turned into an Israeli military barracks. “They fired shots and refused to let me approach,” he said.
Alaa Murad, who travelled from Senegal after the ceasefire, found himself following the news of his village from Beirut, and watched as other displaced people returned to their own homes. Since his return in December, he made three attempts to visit Aitaroun. Each time, he was forced to flee.Â
“I could hear tanks rumbling near my neighbourhood, and drones dropped sound bombs on residents trying to salvage belongings,” he recounted. “Returning now is impossible. I’ll wait until the army secures the area.”
A village in ruins
The war has left Aitaroun devastated. According to local reports, at least 118 residents were killed, dozens injured, and hundreds of homes destroyed. Roads, farmland, and infrastructure have been obliterated.
Mayor Salim Murad described the dire situation: “The Israeli army continues to violate the ceasefire and prevent residents from returning. Rebuilding is years away—there’s no infrastructure left. It’s as if Aitaroun is being erased from the map.”
For displaced residents, the psychological toll is immense. Hassan Salama, a coffee shop owner, mourns the loss of his village. “I know my shop, my home, and my crops are gone,” he said. “But I can’t live in Beirut. I need to be back with my people. I want to hear chickens in the morning, not car horns.”
Despite their longing to return, many residents see no immediate path home. Without security or basic services, the rebuilding of Aitaroun feels like a distant dream.
“Returning to the south will be like returning to a desert devoid of life,” Mansour said. “The ceasefire only gave Israel more time to destroy what was left.”
This piece was published in collaboration with Egab.