The announcement of the death of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah (pictured here in 2016) in the Israeli strike on the party's headquarters in the southern suburbs of Beirut on Friday night has elicited sorrow and anger from his supporters. (Photo: Patrick Baz/AFP)
The strike that killed Hassan Nasrallah sent tremors across Beirut. In neighborhoods on the other side of the capital, people ran for shelter, thinking they were under attack. News that the party's leader had been targeted spread immediately. There was uncertainty throughout the night, accompanied by another series of Israeli air raids on the southern suburbs. In the morning, Israel announced his assassination.
The silence from Hezbollah sowed anxiety. Then, on Saturday afternoon, the party finally announced his death, sending another shock wave through the city and beyond.
In Ghobeiry, in the southern suburbs, crying can be heard in the streets and people are shouting the name of Hassan Nasrallah, residents report.
"Men are crying and women are screaming," says Sally Khoury, a volunteer at the Rene Mawad Public School currently hosting displaced southerners. "It feels like the day of judgement."
Gunshots could be heard in various neighborhoods in Beirut as people fired into the air, a symbol of mourning or celebration often practiced during funeral and weddings.
In Hamra, men and women are walking down the streets, crying. The air is tense. "Let us see what’s going to happen now” a man screams from inside a coffee shop.
A man is hunched against a wall, leaning on it for support as he wails. Many are glued to their phones. The uncertainty weighs heavy.
"If the Sayyed is dead, that's it. It's done," a man with tears in his eyes says to the group of people he has gathered with.
The grief felt by his supporters is immense."I would have preferred it to be me and not the Sayyed, for it to be my whole family, rather than him," says Khadija Hammoud, originally from Aitaroun in southern Lebanon and currently a refugee in Aley.
At Beirut's International Airport, scenes of despair as word of Hezbollah's announcement spread through the departure halls. Passengers waiting for a flight to Baghdad cried out and burst into tears. "What are we going to do without you?" some shouted. Other said they had been waiting for what they sure would be an announcement that the charismatic leader would be making an address today.
Many are shocked into a state of disbelief. Cries of, "This is not possible, this is not true!" are heard among the ground, as people start making phone calls as if hearing someone else say it will make the news more palpable. It's a funeral-like atmosphere, as if people had lost a family member.
In a statement read live on Hezbollah's Al-Manar TV channel, the party announced that "the master of resistance" Hassan Nasrallah "has moved to his Lord as a great martyr."
"He has joined the caravan of Karbala martyrs" and "his companions, the immortal martyrs he led for thirty years, leading them from victory to victory."
"The Hezbollah leadership pledges to continue its jihad in the face of the enemy," the statement reads. "in support of Gaza and Palestine, and in defense of Lebanon and its steadfast and honorable people."
“Our leader is still among us with his thought, spirit and sacred approach."
'It's not the end of the Resistance'
Nasrallah's death does not necessarily mark the end of the party. When the former Hezbollah leader, Abbas Moussawi, was assassinated by Israel, "we thought it was the end of the Resistance, but Allah sent someone even more powerful: Hassan Nasrallah," says Ahmad Fawaz, a Lebanese businessman from southern Lebanon, currently in Nigeria. "May he rest in peace. The same thing will happen again now."
Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei declared on Saturday that Israel "cannot damage Hezbollah's solid infrastructure in Lebanon."
The region's fate "will be determined by resistance forces, with Hezbollah at the forefront," Khamenei added, reiterating the Axis of Resistance's support Hezbollah.
Also in Nigeria, in the Lebanese community of Benin City, women are dressed in black and men cry. Businesses have shut down. "Our backs have been broken," says the owner of a chain of Lebanese restaurants, originally from Ainata in southern Lebanon.
He wishes to remain anonymous because "in Africa, showing support for Hezbollah can lead to immediate sanctions."
In Free Town, Sierra Leone, Hassan Dhainy is inconsolable. "I'm leaving for Lebanon now, I’m going to go fight against Israel. I'm from the South, and my homeland is bombarded by demons. I'm not going to sit here idly," he declares, as his brother tries to reason with him.
In any case, hardly any flights are arriving in Beirut for the time being. Earlier, a woman who fled from Bechamoun to stay at her sister's in Beirut, said she was "not afraid that Nasrallah is dead."
"As he came, others will come after him." She believes the situation cannot worsen. "It's already too big; it can't get worse," she says.