Lebanon Journal: Scenes from a war zone
BEIRUT--The refugees come in hundreds of cars along the twisted mountain roads in the Chouf Mountains. The ride from Tyre to Beirut is normally 45 miles along a major highway that takes, even with traffic, maybe an hour or so to drive. But the highways now are almost completely cut at each overpass or bridge south of Beirut. From Tyre to Sidon, you can use the highway with long detours and impromptu dirt paths around the destruction, but once you hit Sidon, just 30 minutes south of Beirut, the cars have to wend their way through the mountains, through Druze and Christian villages that have not been targeted, for more than three hours.
The traffic jams stretch for miles on this day last weekend, but the refugees appear resigned and annoyed more than scared. Many tell me that taxis drivers are gouging the residents in the south for rides out of danger? $100 per seat in a taxi for a ride that normally costs about $3.50 is common. Others tell of $1,000 fares for rides from some remote villages to Beirut for entire families. People talk of the bombings and leaflets telling them to flee.
I get only as far as the power plant outside Sidon before we have to turn around. On this day, the road is too jammed and we could be forced to spend the night or get caught in the dark on the roads around Beirut's airports and southern suburbs, which are nighttime targets.
Just outside the southern suburbs of Beirut, in the parking garage of an underground mall, more than 1,000 people from the southern suburbs have taken refuge. Hezbollah runs the shelter and I am granted access on the condition that I not reveal the name of the mall or its precise location. "They will bomb us here. They hate us and will kill us and our children," explains Abu Abbas, the Hezbollah official in charge of the facility, which adjoins a grocery store.
People are shopping at the store--not looting it--and the famed discipline and organization of Hezbollah is evident. Unlike scenes from other conflicts, these refugees aren't freaking out and carrying huge bales of possessions. They have been instructed what to bring: a children's toy, a lantern, bedding, a change of clothes, water, some cooking pots.
Other than the volunteers patrolling with their handheld radios(who readily admit to belonging to Hezbollah), there is a noticeable lack of fighting-age men. There is no point in asking why. The common response is that the son or father is a "mujahideen" or holy warrior. "Mr. Hassan Nasrallah [the leader of Hezbollah] has said that this is a war and we will never stop fighting it," says Ali, 18."It is uncomfortable but we do not mind it. They will not make us quit."
As he speaks, an older woman in a headscarf appears,wanting to talk. "If America and Israel want to do this to us, there is nothing we can do about it," she says. "We don't care about staying here as long as the boys who are fighting and Sayeed Nasrallah and the leaders are OK. We can withstand anything as long as we don't have to bow to the Americans and Israelis. Death is normal to us and it means we will go to heaven."
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