For displaced residents of southern Lebanese villages, funerals for those killed in months of cross-border clashes offer a rare chance to return home and witness the devastation caused by Israeli bombardments.
“My house is in ruins,” said 60-year-old Abdel Aziz Ammar, standing in front of rubble in the border village of Mais al-Jabal. The only thing that survived was a plastic water tank. “My parents’ house, my brother’s house, and my nephew’s house have all been completely destroyed,” he added. Ammar was back in the village for the funeral of a Hezbollah fighter.
Hezbollah began attacking Israel in support of their ally Hamas following the Palestinian group’s unprecedented October 7 attack on Israel, which sparked the war in Gaza. Residents on both sides of the Israel-Lebanon border have evacuated their homes for safety.
The Iran-backed Lebanese group has increased its attacks, while Israel has struck deeper into Lebanese territory. The cross-border violence has resulted in at least 419 deaths on the Lebanese side, according to an AFP tally. Most of the casualties are Hezbollah fighters, including seven from Mais al-Jabal, but at least 82 civilians, including three journalists, have also been killed. Israel reports 14 soldiers and 11 civilian deaths on its side.
For funerals in the south, the Lebanese army informs United Nations peacekeepers, who then notify the Israeli military, according to a United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon spokesperson. The peacekeepers patrol near the border and act as a buffer between Lebanon and Israel.
Ammar, who fled to Beirut’s southern suburbs (a Hezbollah stronghold) two weeks after the violence began, noted, “We come for the funerals, but we inspect our homes. Those whose houses haven’t been destroyed use the time to collect their belongings.” Reflecting on his destroyed home in Mais al-Jabal, he added, “My daughter always tells me, ‘I miss the house, when will we go back?'”
An AFP photographer saw numerous houses either razed or partially destroyed in the village, which looked like a battlefield amidst the green countryside. A funeral procession moved through the rubble-strewn streets, with people chanting slogans in support of Hezbollah. Hezbollah flags fluttered as women in chadors walked together, some wearing yellow scarves or holding pictures of the deceased.
“Whether I carry a weapon or not, just my presence in my village means I am a target for the Israelis,” said Ammar, noting that the fighting does not always stop for funerals.
On May 5, a man, his wife, and two children were killed in a strike on Mais al-Jabal during a funeral. They had returned to the village to collect items from their store, believing it was a moment of calm, according to local media reports.
In front of a half-destroyed house, people loaded a small truck with whatever they could salvage—a washing machine, a child’s stroller, a motorbike, and plastic chairs. Amidst the rubble, a sign read: “Even if you destroy our houses, your missiles cannot break our will.”
Lebanese authorities are waiting for a ceasefire to fully assess the damage, estimating that around 1,700 houses have been destroyed and 14,000 damaged. Emergency personnel have reported extensive damage and villages emptied of residents, while many journalists have been hesitant to travel to border areas due to heavy bombardment.
The overall damage is estimated to exceed $1.5 billion in a country already facing a severe crisis, with compensation procedures remaining unclear.
However, village resident Khalil Hamdan, 53, who also attended the funeral, remained resolute. “The destruction doesn’t make a difference,” he said. “We will rebuild.”