When the airstrike occurred, Mohammed was distributing hot meals to elderly neighbors, an activity he and his friends had been undertaking since Israel’s latest incursion into Lebanon began on October 1. The 29-year-old civil engineer was positioned approximately 5 meters (16 feet) from the explosion, which demolished a residence in his southern Lebanese village. He suffered severe injuries, including scorched skin on his forehead and cheeks, leaving his face raw and pink, charred hands, and third-degree burns on his abdomen. Two weeks later, he continues to experience significant pain and trauma, yet is determined to share his experience. Recalling the incident, Mohammed stated in a hushed tone, “It was all black, smoke everywhere.” He continued, “It took about a minute. Then I started to recognise what is around me. I noticed my two friends were still alive but bleeding a lot. It took about five minutes for the people to get us out.” Mohammed shared his harrowing account from his hospital bed at the Nabih Berri government hospital, situated on a hilltop in Nabatieh. This city, one of the largest in southern Lebanon, lies merely 11 kilometers (seven miles) directly from the Israeli border. Prior to the conflict, Nabatieh had a population of approximately 80,000 residents. Mohammed asserted that the strike occurred without any prior warning, stating, “not at all, not to us, not to our neighbours, not to the person inside the house that was hit.” He identified the individual inside the targeted house as a policeman, who died in the assault. He questioned the targeting, stating, “We are not military,” and adding, “we are not terrorists. Why are we being hit? The areas that are being hit are all civilian areas.” Upon his discharge, Mohammed intends to return to his village, Arab Salim, despite it still being subjected to attacks. He expressed his lack of alternatives, saying, “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” and further, “If I could [leave] I would. There’s no place.” During a tour of the hospital, another airstrike prompted staff members to hurry to a balcony to ascertain the new target. From the hospital, a wide view revealed grey smoke rising from elevated terrain approximately 4 kilometers distant. Soon after, in the emergency room several floors below, the sound of a siren signaled the arrival of casualties from that same airstrike, which had struck Mohammed’s village, Arab Salim. A woman was quickly brought in on a stretcher, her face covered in blood. Her husband followed, striking a wall in frustration before collapsing in shock. Medical personnel promptly went behind closed doors to assess her condition. Minutes later, Dr. Hassan Wazni, the hospital director, informed staff that the woman had a ruptured artery and required immediate transfer to a specialized vascular center at a hospital located further north. With cries of pain emanating from the examining room, he urged, “She needs it immediately.” He instructed, “Talk to Saida [a nearby town]. If it’s OK, let’s take her immediately, because she can’t wait.” The hospital admits between 20 and 30 casualties daily resulting from Israeli airstrikes. While most are civilians, no individual is refused care. He stated, “We take all patients, and all injured, and all martyrs who come,” adding, “We don’t discriminate between them.” Dr. Wazni has remained at the hospital continuously since the conflict commenced. From his office desk, he opened a packet of cigarillos, remarking with an apologetic smile, “I think it’s OK to break some rules in a war.” He faces challenges in securing funds for salaries and obtaining 1,200 liters of fuel daily to operate the hospital’s power generators. He commented, “We get nothing from the government,” explaining, “It doesn’t have it.” His personal sustenance, espresso, was offered to us multiple times. The Nabih Berri hospital, the city’s primary public medical facility with 170 beds, currently operates with minimal staff and cares for only 25 patients. Ill and injured individuals admitted here are promptly moved to medical facilities in more secure northern regions. Hospital personnel reported “many strikes” occurring near Nabih Berri, and during our visit, broken glass was visible in the foyer. Nabatieh has endured attacks for over a month. On October 16, the municipality building was destroyed, resulting in the deaths of Mayor Ahmad Kahil and 16 other individuals. At the time of the incident, the mayor was conducting a meeting to organize aid distribution. Passing by the wreckage, bundles of flatbread could still be seen on the floor of a damaged ambulance. This substantial strike caused the collapse of several adjacent buildings, leaving an entire city block absent from the area. Furthermore, the Ottoman-era market, considered the core of Nabatieh, was obliterated on October 12. Centuries of historical significance were reduced to rubble, with heritage transformed into dust. Hussein Jaber, 30, a member of the government’s emergency services, held the old market, or souk, in high regard. He and his team, which includes volunteers, escorted us for a brief tour of the site. They drove rapidly, describing it as the sole method of transit in Nabatieh. Gesturing towards the concrete slabs and twisted metal, Hussein remarked, “We were born and raised here.” He continued, “We have been here since we were children. The souk means a great deal to us. It is really sad to see it like this. It holds memories of the past and the beautiful days we spent with the people of this city.” Similar to Dr. Wazni, Hussein and his associates have stayed alongside the populace, notwithstanding the inherent dangers. Lebanese government data indicates that over 110 paramedics and first responders have died in Israeli attacks in Lebanon over the last year, with the majority of these fatalities occurring in the past month. The international advocacy organization Human Rights Watch suggests that some of these attacks constitute “apparent war crimes.” This month, Hussein mourned the loss of a colleague and friend in an airstrike that landed 50 meters from their civil defense station, where they sleep with mattresses propped against the windows. The deceased, Naji Fahes, was 50 years old and a father of two. Hussein described him, saying, “He was enthusiastic and strong and loved to help others.” He added, “Even though he was older than us, he was the one rushing to go on missions, to be with the people and to rescue them.” His death reflected his life’s dedication. At the moment of the airstrike, Naji Fahes was positioned outside the station, prepared for a mission. While Hussein spoke, an Israeli drone was observed circling overhead, gradually descending and increasing in volume. The persistent buzzing of the drone contended with his speech. He noted, “We hear it 90% of the time,” and speculated, “We think it’s directly above us now. Most probably it’s watching us.” Hezbollah’s presence within the city is not overtly visible. The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) stated that it is “operating solely against the Hezbollah terrorist organisation, not against the Lebanese population.” Israel asserts its conflict is “against the Hezbollah terrorist organisation, embedded within civilian population and infrastructure.” A spokesperson indicated that Israel “takes many measures to mitigate civilian harm including advance warnings,” although no warning was issued for the airstrike that injured Mohammed or the assault that resulted in the mayor’s death. During a five-and-a-half-hour period in this formerly vibrant city, only two individuals were observed on foot in public spaces. Both quickly departed, declining to communicate. Throughout our visit, an Israeli army drone was broadcasting messages, directing residents to evacuate immediately. Estimates suggest that merely a few hundred residents remain, either unwilling or unable to relocate. These individuals are predominantly elderly and impoverished, and their fate is intertwined with that of their city. Hussein and his team will continue to be present to provide assistance. He affirmed, “We are like a safety net for the people,” adding, “We will stay, and we will carry on. We will be next to the civilians. Nothing will stop us.” Further reporting was contributed by Wietske Burema and Angie Mrad. Copyright 2024 BBC. All rights reserved. The BBC disclaims responsibility for the content of external websites. Information regarding its approach to external linking is available.

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