- "I am in Hezbollah because I care," the fighter,
who agreed to the interview on condition of anonymity, told me. "I
care about my people, my country, and defending them from the Zionist aggression."
I jotted furiously in my note pad while sitting in the back seat of his
car. We were parked not far from Dahaya, the district in southern Beirut
which is being bombed by Israeli warplanes as we talk.
-
- The sounds of bombs echoed off the buildings of the capital
city of Lebanon yesterday afternoon. Out the window, I watched several
people run into the entrance of a business center, as if that would provide
them any safety.
-
- The member of Hezbollah I was interviewing-let's call
him Ahmed-has been shot three times during previous battles against Israeli
forces on the southern Lebanese border. His brother was killed in one of
these battles. It's been several years since his father was killed by an
air strike in a refugee camp.
-
- "My home now in Dahaya is pulverized, so Hezbollah
gave me a place to stay while this war is happening," he said, "When
this war ends, where am I to go? What am I to do? Everything in my life
is destroyed now, so I will fight them."
-
- That explains why earlier in the day, when driving me
around, he'd stopped at an apartment to change into black clothing-a black
t-shirt and black combat pants, along with black combat boots.
-
- A tall, stocky man, Ahmed seemed always exhausted and
angry.
-
- "I didn't have a future," he continued while
the concussions of bombs continued, "But now, Hassan Nasrallah is
the leader of this country and her people. My family has lived in Lebanon
for 1,500 years, and now we are all with him. He has given us belief and
hope that we can push the Zionists out of Lebanon, and keep them out forever.
He has given me purpose."
-
- "Do you think this is why so many people now, probably
over two million here in Lebanon alone, follow Nasrallah?" I asked.
-
- "Hezbollah gives you dignity, it returns your dignity
to you," he replied, "Israel has put all of the Arab so-called
leaders under her foot, but Nasrallah says 'No more.'"
-
- He paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead. The summer
heat in Beirut drips with humidity. During the afternoon, my primary impulse
is to find a fan and curl up for a nap under its gracious movement of the
thick air here.
-
- Earlier he'd driven me to one of the larger hospitals
in Beirut where I photographed civilian casualties. All of them were tragic
cases but one really grabbed me-that of a little 8 year-old girl, lying
in a large bed. She was on her side, with a huge gash down the right side
of her face and her right arm wrapped in gauze. She was hiding in the basement
of her home with 12 family members when they were bombed by an Israeli
fighter jet.
-
- Her father was in a room downstairs with both of his
legs blown off. Her other family members were all seriously wounded. She
lay there whimpering, with tears streaming down her face.
-
- I think I won Ahmed's trust after that. I walked out
the car, got in and sat down. He asked me where I wanted to go now.
-
- Ahmed put his hand on my shoulder and said, "This
is what I've been seeing for my entire life. Nothing but pain and suffering."
-
- A photographer from Holland who was working with me was
able to respond to Ahmed that maybe we could go have a look at Dahaya.
-
- Ahmed had told me that it was currently extremely dangerous
for a journalist to try to go into Dahaya. Before, Hezbollah had run tours
for people to come see the wreckage generated by Israeli air strikes. All
you had to do was meet under a particular bridge at 11 a.m., and you had
a guided tour from "party guys" (members of Hezbollah) into what
has become a post-apocalyptic ghost town.
-
- A couple of days ago I went there, without the "party
guy" tour. A friend and I were driven in by a man we hired for the
day to take us around. I was shocked at the level of destruction-in some
places entire city blocks lay in rubble. At one point we came upon the
touring journalists, all scurrying to their vehicles. Everyone was in a
panic.
-
- "What's going on?," I asked our driver. "A
party guy who is a spotter said he saw Israeli jets coming," he responded,
while spinning the van around and punching the gas as we sped past the
journalists lugging their cameras while running back to their drivers.
-
- While driving we were passed by several Hezbollah fighters
riding scooters. Each had his M-16 assault rifle slung across his back
and wore green ammunition pouches across his chest.
-
- Ahmed told me he'd captured two Israeli spies himself.
"One of them is a Lebanese Jewish woman, and she had a ring she could
talk into," he explained as new sweat beads began to form on his forehead,
"Others are posing as journalists and using this type of paint to
mark buildings to be bombed."
-
- I doubt the ring part, and also wonder about the feasibility
of paint used for targeting, but there are no doubt spies crawling all
over Beirut. In Iraq, mercenaries often pose as journalists, making it
even more dangerous than it already was for us to work there.
-
- Nevertheless, war always fosters paranoia. Whom can you
trust? What if they are a spy? What are their motives? Why do they want
to ask me this question at this time? These types of questions become constant
I my mind, and so many others in this situation where normal life is now
a thing of the past. I think they are some sort of twisted survival mechanism.
-
- We drove back near my hotel and parked again. People
strolled by on the sidewalks. Ahmed said, "I will never be a slave
to the United States or Israel."
-
- (c)2006 Dahr Jamail.
-
- All images, photos, photography and text are protected
by United States and international copyright law. If you would like to
reprint Dahr's Dispatches on the web, you need to include this copyright
notice and a prominent link to the http://DahrJamailIraq.com website. Website
by photographer Jeff Pflueger's Photography Media http://jeffpflueger.com
. Any other use of images, photography, photos and text including, but
not limited to, reproduction, use on another website, copying and printing
requires the permission of Dahr Jamail. Of course, feel free to forward
Dahr's dispatches via email.
-
- More writing, commentary, photography, pictures and images
at http://dahrjamailiraq.com
|