RNW roaming reporter Hans Jaap Melissen spent part of the summer of 2006 reporting from the Middle East on the short war that raged between Israel and Lebanon. He's just been back to Qana, a village in southern Lebanon, where bombs have left their lasting and destructive mark.
Low point
People remember the attack on a market in the Bosnian capital, Sarajevo. The massacre of the inhabitants of the Vietnamese village of My Lai. Lebanon had already experienced the mass slaughters of 1982 in the Palestinian refugee camps Sabra and Shatilla. But the war of the summer of 2006 brought the country a new and sad low point: the destruction by bombs of a house full of civilians in the village of Qana.
Deathly quiet
Three months on from the war, which came to an end as abruptly as it began, the village of Qana is quiet... deathly quiet. The ruins of the house that was destroyed by the bombs have gone, instead there is an empty rectangle of space. But less than 200 metres away the horrific truth of what happened here is still visible: the horizontal grave stones of the 27 civilians who died, plus the grave of two Hizbollah fighters from Qana, now form a special memorial.
If the ratio had been different - 27 members of Hizbollah and two civilians - then the words "collateral damage" would have been heard... by the Israelis and probably by the Lebanese too. But, on that morning of Sunday 30 July 2006, there was simply a gross mistake made.
To begin with, the Israelis claimed that missiles had been launched from the house. Although rockets were indeed launched in the direction of Israel from the vicinity of Qana, there was nothing to indicate any involvement on the part of the civilians who died, most of whom were women and children.
Later, on the evening of that Sunday, I went to the hospital in nearby Tyre and visited a couple of the people who had been wounded. One of them was Mr Shaloub, who'd lost his daughter in the attack but who seemed to have come out of the ruins better off than the man in the next bed, who'd lost his wife and his five children.
Propaganda
Mr Shaloub was remarkably talkative, and already quite clear about how many people had died: 27. That same Sunday, however, and for days after, the Lebanese government kept speaking of 60 dead, for it was a time of war, and war inevitably means: propaganda. Mr Shaloub said there have only been 48 people in the building; families seeking shelter together in one place but who heard the bombardments getting closer as the night drew on. The children became frightened and the adults tried to comfort them by saying they were safe where they were - until a massive explosion changed life in Qana for good.
Now, a few months later, the remaining villagers have gathered at the end of the afternoon to look at the graves. Some have the Koran with them and are reading from it, kneeling next to the graves of relatives. One woman is touching each of the graves, one by one, and says she thinks Mr Shalhoub will turn up soon. But she's also prepared to make the trip out to his farm.
Disastrous
Driving out to his house along the road, we find the way to the farm blocked by a crater filled with water. After we call out, Mr Shalhoub finally appears, walking to us carefully around the edges of the crater. Dressed in normal clothes and wearing a black hat, he looks totally different to the man in pyjamas lying in a hospital bed. He's only been out of hospital for a week, having spent the intervening months having treatment for his lungs.
"Disastrous" is how he describes his own situation:
He has, however, had help from Hizbollah: "Of course, it isn't Hizbollah's job," he commented, "The government should help us." But the Lebanese government is much too concerned with its own predicament right now. The Hizbollah ministers have quit the cabinet and are only prepared to return if they get the right of veto.
Yet, Mr Shalhoub doesn't think Lebanon is headed back down the path to civil war:
The beefed-up United Nations force in the south of the country wouldn't be able to do much to stop that if it did happen. "After all, they didn't manage to stop the last war either. Even now Israeli planes are regularly flying over Lebanon. The UN is mainly here to protect Israel, and not the other way around."
Mr Shalhoub walks back to his farmhouse to get ready for his visit to the graveyard . Up until now, the people of Qana have made a point of remembering the terrors of the summer of 2006 every day. And Mr Shalhoub can literally feel the terror he felt then, with every breath he takes.
* RNW Internet translation (tpf)
Tags: 2006, civilians, colletarl, damage, graves, Hezbollah, Hizbollah, Israel, Lebanon, missiles, qana, rockets, war