Ceasefire in Lebanon brings fragile hope, lingering grief, and new fears

As the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah continues to hold, relief intertwines with uncertainty across Lebanon.

Highways are clogged with cars as families rush back to their villages in the south and east, as well as Beirut’s southern suburbs.

Cars and vans, overloaded with mattresses, suitcases, and furniture, stream through bombed-out cities like Tyre. Some vehicles bear Lebanese flags, and drivers sound their horns in a bittersweet celebration.

Yet, the optimism surrounding the ceasefire is overshadowed by the devastation that cannot be undone.

Homecoming to ruins

In Zibqin, a southern Lebanese village scarred by relentless bombing, Asya Atwi surveyed the rubble of what was once her home. Standing with her husband and daughter, she said, “The important thing is that we’re back, against Israel’s will and against the will of all the enemies. We will sleep on the rubble.”

Her words resonate with many returning residents. In Beirut’s southern suburbs, others like Zahi Hijazi are coming back to homes irreparably damaged.

“Our lifetime’s savings... All this destruction,” said the 67-year-old as he stood amidst the ruins of his apartment.

For others, the emotional toll of loss and grief is just as harrowing. In a bombed-out neighbourhood, a woman named Diala visited the site of a deadly air strike, calling it “the place where we lost our souls.”

Fourteen months of Israeli attacks have claimed nearly 4,000 lives, injured more than 15,000, and displaced nearly 1.4 million people. Once-vibrant southern suburbs of Beirut are now dominated by collapsed buildings and piles of rubble. The World Bank estimates the economic toll at $8.5 billion, with a rebuilding effort that will take years.

“We headed back home as the ceasefire came into place. It’s bittersweet — we are back, but everything we knew is gone,” Fatima, a resident of Beirut’s suburbs, summed up the paradox of their trek home.

Fragile truce, uneasy future

The ceasefire, brokered by the United States and France, remains tenuous. Many Lebanese worry about its fragility, particularly as Israeli military positions remain stationed near the border.

For those returning to devastated neighbourhoods, the relief of peace is tempered by the anxiety that it might not last.

Despite the end of hostilities, the shadow of war still lingers.

Israel has designated 10 villages in southern Lebanon as “no-return zones,” citing unexploded ordnance and potential security risks while military curfews in some areas add another layer of uncertainty for families desperate to reclaim their homes.