In Lebanon, songs of victory sung across fields of rubble
Across the most affected areas, desolation and anger reign, yet amid the ruins, chants in celebration of victory erupt, a stark contrast to the immeasurable cost of war.
A Hezbollah supporter holds up a portrait of Hassan Nasrallah, the party's former secretary-general, and Hachem Safieddine, both assassinated by the Israeli army, near the Hadi Nasrallah highway, in the southern suburbs of Beirut, on Nov. 27. (Credit: Mohammad Yassin/L'Orient Today)
Some people didn't even wait for sunrise before they left. Others, more cautious, waited for the buzzing of the drones to fade away before piling what they’d brought with them when they fled back onto the roofs of their cars and heading home. The roads from the capital to its southern suburbs, the Bekaa Valley and the South are choked with traffic. The Nazal family of six are crammed into an aging car with all their possessions. They are going back to Srifa, in the Sour district. “We paid dearly, but we won,” Amine, the father, declared. “No more shame... We're going home,” his son said.On the highway, kilometer after kilometer of flattened buildings unfolds on either side, smoldering ash, and the acrid stench of burning. Traffic thickens at the entrance to Jadra. Fatima, dressed in mourning black, drives her four children toward Kfar...
Some people didn't even wait for sunrise before they left. Others, more cautious, waited for the buzzing of the drones to fade away before piling what they’d brought with them when they fled back onto the roofs of their cars and heading home. The roads from the capital to its southern suburbs, the Bekaa Valley and the South are choked with traffic. The Nazal family of six are crammed into an aging car with all their possessions. They are going back to Srifa, in the Sour district. “We paid dearly, but we won,” Amine, the father, declared. “No more shame... We're going home,” his son said.On the highway, kilometer after kilometer of flattened buildings unfolds on either side, smoldering ash, and the acrid stench of burning. Traffic thickens at the entrance to Jadra. Fatima, dressed in mourning black, drives her four children...