Revisiting Bint Jbail

Residents of a southern Lebanese town destroyed during the ground war between Israel and Hezbollah say life is returning to normal. But the remnants of war continue to endanger lives.

Note: Hot Zone contributor Jad Melki filed this report. Melki, a freelance journalist and research director at the University of Maryland's Philip Merrill College of Journalism, accompanied Kevin Sites in Beirut and southern Lebanon during the Hot Zone's coverage of the war between

The drive from Beirut to Bint Jbail now takes two hours. It had taken us over five hours during the war (original Hot Zone report from Bint Jbail). Many of the bridges Israel destroyed were still being reconstructed, but a few have been replaced by temporary steel overpasses. Still, they are so narrow that serious traffic jams are still common.

The road was filled with giant banners displaying pictures of unexploded ordnance and cluster bombs, warning people to avoid touching strange objects. Ironically, the closer I got to the south — where most unexploded ordnance is found — the less I saw those warning signs.

Bint Jbail residents describe life after the war. » View

A distinct sign of post-war south Lebanon, among all things, was the rebuilt gas stations. They all had the latest models of brand new pumps. I have only seen pumps like that in Europe. As I filled the car at a gas station that had been all but destroyed during my last trip here, the owner told me the company that sponsors the station offered to replace the pumps, and the old underground storage tanks, with new ones five times bigger — for free.

At the entrance to Bint Jbail, the overwhelming silence and scene of monstrous destruction that greeted us back in July had all but disappeared. The road that had been littered with rubble, broken glass and shattered objects was cleaned up and chunks of building material filled the pavement. The burned shops and destroyed buildings were swarming with either shoppers or construction workers, in many cases both at the same time. The town was simply buzzing with life again, but the scars of war were clear everywhere.

It was unusually hard to get someone to talk, not because they didn't want to, but because everyone seemed so busy restarting their businesses, rebuilding their homes and shops.

The fear of unexploded cluster bombs and ordnance pervaded Bint Jbail. When I asked the locals where the unexploded munitions were found, they pointed everywhere: inside their living rooms, in their backyards, in their gardens, across the road, on the roof of an elementary school.

Unexploded ordnance still threatens lives in Bint Jbail. » View

Ali Bazzi, who lives across from the school with his wife Selma, a teacher at the school, walked us through his destroyed neighborhood and told us about the bombs they found near his home. Almost every ten feet, Bazzi would point to where an unexploded bomb was found. Each bomb had a story: how it was found; what could have happened if they didn't see it or if a child saw it first; how the army "decommissioned it and dragged it out of the house with the most antiquated tools."

As we walked through the partially paved, cluttered walkway next to his front yard, Mr. Bazzi pointed three feet away from where I stood.

"There was a 1,000 kilogram shell just there. They cleaned it up about two weeks ago," he said, grabbing the side of an olive branch. Though it is now olive season, they haven't picked any this year, he told me, because they are worried about unexploded ordnance that could still be in the area.

Like most people we talked to, Dr. Ibrahim Sabbagh, a dentist, kept parts of the shells that landed on his house. He showed me what he called "the missile, the gift" — remnants of an exploded shell that tore a big hole in the ceiling of his clinic. He fixed the ceiling with his own money, but is waiting to receive money the government promised him before he can start rebuilding his destroyed house.

Dr. Sabbagh said that life is now normal in Bint Jbail. "Many people have come back. My kids, my father, my wife, my sister ... There's electricity, and water."

I got the same response from almost everyone we interviewed. "Normal" seemed to be the consensus, but the clear signs of destruction, the fear of unexploded bombs and an uncertain future indicated a place that was anything but normal.

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