ACT Dateline

Lebonon 08/06

Death from the sky

For a few hours, Monday evening in Beirut was perfect—the moon full, the stars shining. Then came the sound of bombs being dropped on the southern suburbs of the city. Moments later, heavy smoke-filled clouds obscured the moon. In a centre for the internally displaced, 26-year old Hana sat, shaken by the latest Israeli bombardment that would claim several lives.

By Hege Opseth

Beirut, August 11, 2006—Just after eight o’clock on Monday evening this week, an air strike shattered the quiet—part of the Israeli offensive in retaliation to Hezbollah launching rockets into Israel. Even though people were prepared for this to happen, the shock, the sound, the smoke and the fear were all consuming.

The constant need to respond to the growing crisis in their country was also starting to take a toll on staff of ACT members working desperately to assist those in need. Aid workers first, they are also Lebanese—affected both directly and indirectly by the ongoing conflict.

An employee of the Middle East Council of Churches (MECC)—the local member of the global alliance Action by Churches Together (ACT) International responding to the crisis—explains that the fear caused by the conflict that is killing civilians on both sides, is all pervasive.

"Every time I hear the aircraft, I think, who has been shot now, who has died, who will be the next target? It is hard to sleep."And all the while brutal images of death and destruction play out on local television screens—day in a day out.

Enough is enough

The bombs of Monday evening hit closer than ever before to the central parts of Beirut. These are residential areas, and over and over people ask the question: "Why? There are no Hezbollah living here."

People talk of their sorrow. Their despair. Of more bodies shattered. Of more buildings smashed. Fear is now a constant. Parents’ dreams of their children growing up in peaceful times, rather than war, completely destroyed.

"We cannot take this any more," says a driver. "We need a cease-fire."

In the first few days after the conflict started, people still felt relatively safe moving around the central parts of their capital city. The Israeli air strikes happened mostly at night. Now they say that they never feel completely safe. The bombs are dropped early in the morning, late in the afternoon and in the early evening.

Hana, a 26-year old woman, sits quietly by herself in a centre for the internally displaced, where MECC, with support from members of the ACT alliance around the world, is providing assistance. She fled south Lebanon without any of her personal belongings. She is eight months pregnant.

"When I hear the bombs, I just panic," she says."I get so scared and I am afraid that all the stress will affect my baby."

Everyone—colleagues and people who have fled their towns and villages—are growing more tired by the day. One person explains that it is difficult to sleep when you know that death may come from the sky.

"This is not our war," say some Lebanese.

On Monday night, after the smoke cleared, the moon again shone over Beirut. The dead were yet to be buried.

Hege Opseth is a communications officer for Norwegian Church Aid, a member of Action by Churches Together (ACT) International.