The travelers ignored Lebanese government advice not to go because of the danger of unexploded bombs and the lack of electricity and running water. The fighting in the south of the country has displaced 1-million Lebanese, government officials estimate.
The refugees instead responded to encouragement from Shiite Muslim leaders to go home and stay put. Their cars loaded down with mattresses, luggage and food indicated they meant to do just that.
Many expressed confidence that the cease-fire would hold if only because Hassan Nasrallah, the Hezbollah leader, signed on.
“I don't trust Israel. I do trust Sheikh Nasrallah. He never lies,'' said Hossam Kawar, 38, a lemon grower from Tyre, a battered coastal city.
In effect, the Shiites rushed to reclaim Hezbollah's southern stronghold, from which guerrillas fired rockets into Israel. In Lebanon's far south, Hezbollah established a network of clinics, schools mosques and underground militias that have been instrumental in resisting Israel's incursion.
Hezbollah battled Israeli forces for a month until a cease- fire took effect at 8 a.m. local time yesterday.
What the refugees found on their return were ruined villages, with store fronts and windows smashed. In Nabatiyeh, an inland town southeast of coastal Sidon, streets were filled with rubble and store shutters twisted by explosions. Some houses teetered to one side on fractured pillars. Others were part intact, part piles of yellow stone and gray concrete. Returnees hugged and wept when they saw friends and neighbors.
Hezbollah activists seemed intent on whipping up enthusiasm in the middle of the rubble. A man in a short beard and sunglasses yesterday used a generator-powered loudspeaker to call on returnees to attend funerals for the fallen today.
Some refugees were shocked by the damage. Hussein Moqdadi, a 36-year-old laborer, looked silently on a jumble of cement and window grating that was once his two-bedroom house. He told his wife they would have to move on to Yarun to the south and hope that a relative's house was intact. “What else can we do?'' he asked.
He told a reporter he was not against the war. He pulled out a Hezbollah pamphlet titled ``God's Promise,'' which provided Nasrallah's rationale for war, including the return of land claimed by Lebanon near the border and the release of Lebanese prisoners held in Israel. “We must defend ourselves and this is the price,'' he said.
His wife interjected: “But what if my brother's house is like this?'' The pair drove off in a faded Hyundai sedan.
Not a few returnees were eager to discover the fate of sons who fought in the militia. A month of heavy bombing left buildings wrecked and roads chewed up. Close combat went on for days in several areas, especially villages close to the border.
“God willing, I will see my son safe. He is with the fighters and we will find him,'' said Hussein Suleiman, 40, who sat atop loads of flour and clothes in the back of a dented pickup truck. “And ask Hassan the driver. He's lucky. He has two sons down there.''
Said the man at the wheel, Hassan Yassin, 45: “I am going to see whether my sons and house are in one piece.''
Fervor was as plentiful as dust. Many windshields sported color posters of a bearded, bespectacled and smiling Nasrallah. A few yellow Hezbollah flags, bearing an emblem in which Arabic letters morph into a rifle, flew from antennas.
The refugees expressed no dissatisfaction with Hezbollah for instigating the war on July 12, with the abduction of two Israeli soldiers from inside Israel.
“We are not afraid to be martyrs. Hezbollah means we will never be occupied again,'' said Zeinab Hamad, 17, speaking from under a flowered headscarf that is required modest dress for Lebanese Shiite women. She cradled a whining baby niece for her sister, Hana. “We only left because the children couldn't stand the noise of the bombs,'' said Hana.
The family is from Bint Jbeil, which is located right by the Israeli border. Several pitched battles were fought in and around the village during the 32-day war. Observers on the Israeli side of the border say hardly a house there is undamaged.
As the miles-long caravan crawled past Sidon, halfway down from Beirut, the road got rougher. Tyre was cut off from Sidon after jets destroyed bridges across the Litani River. An intersection for a road leading inland to Nabatiyeh displayed three craters.
A trip from Beirut to Sidon, normally a half hour, took three hours. From Sidon to Tyre, with the road clogged and makeshift bridges across the river, it took five hours instead of the usual 45 minutes.
In the far west of the combat zone, traffic was lighter, but a steady stream of refugees snaked along narrow winding roads toward the town of Marjayoun. On the radio, Fouad Hamra, Marjayoun's mayor, told residents not to return.
Mahdi Zein, a Shiite who lives near the town and was delayed at a Lebanese army post, ignored the counsel.
“The mayor has not been sleeping on the floor for three weeks,'' he said.
EMAIL THIS ARTICLE SAVE THIS ARTICLE FEEDBACK
To subscribe email subscriptions@creamermedia.co.za or click here
To advertise email advertising@creamermedia.co.za or click here







