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They ignored warnings by the Lebanese government, Hezbollah, and the Israeli army.
Just after midnight on Friday, the journey back to south Lebanon began. Tens of thousands of people packed their belongings into vehicles, wasting no time in the hours after a 10-day ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah took effect.
They crammed pets, picnic chairs, groceries, and, in some instances, washing machines and couches into vehicles, in an apparent hope the temporary truce would become permanent.
By the time the sun was up, vehicles choked the highway to the south. Many, including The National’s reporters, would end up spending over ten hours on the road.
“I’m going to Ayta Al Shaab, if I can get to it,” an older woman said from her car. She held her deceased son’s ranger boot out of the car window as she navigated the standstill traffic. A bouquet of yellow roses sprouted from it.
Aita Al Shaab, mostly destroyed in the 2024 Israel-Hezbollah war, is now in total ruin. Like other villages near the border, it has been wiped out to make space for Israel’s so-called "security zone," a military occupation that Israeli officials say they aim to expand 30 kilometers into southern Lebanon.
Under the truce deal, the Israeli army will not withdraw from parts of the south it occupies. It also reserves the right to take “immediate measures in self-defence" against anything it deems a threat; the Lebanese army and Hezbollah do not, according to the agreement.
It is not a truce that is favorable to the residents of south Lebanon. Should the grieving mother succeed, it would likely be a suicide mission. With Israeli troops still occupying Ayta Al Shaab and at least 54 other villages, she will likely face Israeli fire – risking her life to visit his final resting place.
“The living are tired,” she said, referring to herself: her son dead, her home razed to the ground, and her village occupied. “The dead are at peace.”
A long journey home
An initially joyful journey began under a warm spring sun. With mattresses proudly piled high atop cars and music blaring, southerners gleefully shouted, “Welcome home!” and “Thank god for your safety” to each other through open windows.
During their 10-hour journey south, The National’s reporters kept encountering the same people, again and again, inching forward in their vehicles: An elderly couple in a battered Mercedes Benz, its windshield and side windows blown out by an air strike that had narrowly missed it days earlier, but still running. A family of five in a crammed tuk-tuk that later overheated, forcing passers-by to push it up the cratered remains of a damaged bridge. A group of children in the back of a lorry flashing victory signs at cars that never seemed to overtake them.
A man who spoke to The National through an open car window as he drove said he and his family were returning to their home in Tyre. Although glad of the respite from conflict and happy to return home, he was unhappy with the terms of the ceasefire.
“Last year, the Israelis were occupying five points in south Lebanon,” he said, referring to the 2024 ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah. “Now they’re occupying dozens.”
The hours passed. Children nagged tired mothers for ice-cream. Restless passengers socialised, walking up and down the line of cars as they waited for the traffic to break. Relatives, neighbors, and strangers alike visited each other’s vehicles.
As The National neared the key Qasmiyeh bridge, partially destroyed by an Israeli strike the previous day but which was quickly repaired, traffic came to an almost complete stop. It took approximately four hours to cover the final four kilometers to reach the Qasmiyeh bridge - what would have normally been a ten minute car ride.
Like many others, bored and exhausted of waiting in cars that never moved, The National reporters finished the rest of the journey to the bridge on foot.
Israeli occupation and destruction
The triumph of the south's return diminished into restlessness and a bone-drenching war-weariness as the daylight faded.
Thunder rolled across the sky. Chunks of hail kicked up dust and debris from six weeks' worth of accumulated Israeli strikes on the region.
“It’s an Israeli jet,” an old man sitting at a rest stop joked.
The apocalyptic weather was matched by the expressions of those driving in a row of cars that suddenly emerged from the opposite direction - people who had returned only to find their homes destroyed or inaccessible, under Israeli occupation.
Many of the same weary families who spent over ten hours on the road to get a glimpse of their homes and villages grimly turned back.
Khalil, a man in his 40s who successfully entered the village of Qlaileh – now under Israeli occupation – said he was forced to turn back when Israeli forces fired artillery at his car.
“I didn’t even have enough time to take proper photos of my house,” he said. “It wasn’t safe.” His whole family had planned to return to their house only to discover it was destroyed – along with three-quarters of the village.
He gazed ruefully at the long row of cars heading south. They, at least, still carried the hope that their homes were left standing.
“This bridge looks better than my house,” he said bitterly.
