More than a hundred days have passed, and a large portion of the residents of Rmeish and Ayn Ebel (Bint Jbeil district) in southern Lebanon continue to hold on in their border villages, devising their own survival mechanisms to keep themselves alive despite all the hardships they have endured — amid daily bombardment and ongoing Israeli violations, even after the announcement of the American-Iranian agreement that included a ceasefire on all fronts including Lebanon. Yet the Israeli attacks continue, and reaching those villages is anything but easy.
“We’re living in a giant prison”
Charbel, a man in his thirties and a resident of Rmeish, says: “My wife and I chose to stay here, but I miss seeing my mother and siblings who displaced to Beirut.” He adds, speaking to Silat Wassel: “Life here keeps getting harder. We’re exhausted mentally — every day we ask ourselves: what if the war drags on?”
About the village he lives in, he says: “The village has become our giant prison — my wife and I, that is, not all the residents. We can barely move beyond a very tight radius. We’re not allowed to, and if we do, the danger is extremely high. That’s what it’s like when we visit Ayn Ebel, for example.” It is currently the only village that Rmeish residents visit.
"We can barely move beyond a very tight radius"
Last March, Israel killed three young men from Ayn Ebel: Shadi Ammar George Khreish and Eli Atallah, in an Israeli drone strike while they were attempting to fix an internet outage on a rooftop. The incident deepened people’s fears of potential targeting — no one is exempt from Israeli killing.
A struggle to survive
Charbel’s hardships go beyond restricted movement — like many other village residents, he also faces challenges tied to the smallest details of daily life. He says: “For the past two weeks our fridge hasn’t had a single vegetable. Before that, we went a whole month without eating any vegetables at all.”
Residents of Rmeish, like most border villages, typically grow vegetables in any green space they have in front of their homes. But Charbel doesn’t have one: “I asked a farmer in our village for 2 kilos of cucumbers, and to this day he still hasn’t been able to get them to me because of the high demand. Getting a kilo of cucumbers has become like a dream for us.”
Survival and adaptation mechanisms
In this context, the Rmeish municipality confirms that more than 50 percent of agricultural land is off-limits to farmers because it lies on the outskirts, and that people’s boundaries have been reduced to the residential area — significantly limiting the available agricultural resources. Residents also struggled from the start to secure seedlings for planting during the war. Most livestock farms were either damaged or bulldozed.
"More than 50 percent of agricultural land is off-limits to farmers because it lies on the outskirts"
As things stand, there are currently many shops in Rmeish selling food supplies where people buy their necessities, along with bakeries selling bread. Joanna, a village resident, tells Silat Wassel: “There were days when the bakeries here had to shut down because they ran out of flour — but every household had a store of flour in their pantry, so people were able to bake and make manaqeesh and flatbread to get by.” It is worth noting that Rmeish has served on several occasions as a destination for residents of neighboring villages — including Ayn Ebel and Deble — who came to secure their needs, despite the danger.
The village also has a medical clinic equipped to provide only basic first aid to patients. The medical team on duty stays in constant contact with doctors and specialists in other areas to help diagnose patients’ conditions, and in many cases the situation requires requesting patient transfers to nearby hospitals via the Lebanese Red Cross — but only after obtaining approval from the mechanism committee.
The age of barter
Residents have devised new survival mechanisms to make staying on more feasible. Some ration their supplies and treat them as precious commodities. Charbel describes how he now wraps vegetables in a cloth inside the fridge to make them last longer. He says: “We’re bartering whatever supplies we have. I ask my neighbor if he has cucumbers and give him a tomato in return, depending on what he needs. This is the age of bartering everything.”
"We're bartering whatever supplies we have — I ask my neighbor if he has cucumbers and give him a tomato in return"
Charbel also rations the use of his car: “My wife only uses it to get to the pharmacy where she works. A lot of the time we walk to nearby places — but her workplace is far from us.”
Internet connectivity is frequently cut off, which led Charbel to purchase an eSIM and subscribe to a data plan — despite the very high cost, which reached $30 for 5 gigabytes — just to stay in touch with the people he loves.
A displaced woman under fire
Among those who displaced to Rmeish, Sahar Abu Karam tells us how she fled on the very first day of the war under fire: “With a small bag of winter clothes, I displaced to Rmeish. I remember it was tobacco farming season — shells were falling over the heads of the farmers.” She adds, speaking to Silat Wassel: “I stayed here because I’m waiting for us to return. That’s what every one of us who was displaced is doing.”
Abu Karam is displaced from the village of al-Qouzah and is currently staying at her sister’s home in Rmeish. She says: “We were 13 people. My family split between those who settled at my sister’s house and others who went to my grandfather’s house.”
Twenty-five families from al-Qouzah are still scattered between Rmeish, Ayn Ebel, and Deble — in rented homes, with relatives, or at the monks’ monastery in Rmeish. She says: “Someone who is used to village life finds it hard to displace to the city — life there is completely different.” She is referring to the capital, Beirut.
"Someone who is used to village life finds it hard to displace to the city — life there is completely different"
On the state of people and how they are adapting to the new reality, she says: “Our work is at a standstill and we feel deep psychological pain from everything we’re going through. The worst part is not knowing where this is all heading — a war none of us wanted.” She adds: “We’re suffering from rising prices and our livelihoods are on hold. We’re living off aid, but it’s not enough. The Ministry of Social Affairs sends a small amount to each family every now and then — that’s barely anything.”
She tells us about the family’s sweets factory: “We used to make sesame candy and pistachio candy — 25 families between al-Qouzah and Deble depended on it for their livelihood. We found out that one of our warehouses was bombed. Our losses are estimated at at least $200,000.” She concludes: “When you look at photos and Google Maps, the reality is painful and very difficult — but the shock will come when we go back. The disaster on the ground will be catastrophic.”
It is worth noting that the residents of al-Qouzah were unable to return even after the formal ceasefire announcement. Israel launched a series of intense strikes targeting several southern villages and towns on the night of June 18, particularly in the Nabatieh governorate.
Overlapping geography
The town of Rmeish sits on the border with occupied Palestine. It currently has 6,000 residents out of a total population of 11,350, along with 250,000 displaced people who arrived from neighboring villages and towns such as al-Qouzah, in addition to 800 Syrians who already live in the village and had previously worked (i.e., before the war) in agriculture.
Its neighbor, Ayn Ebel, has 1,400 of its 2,500 residents holding on, in addition to five displaced families from Yaroun, Braashit, and al-Qouzah. The Israeli army remains in close proximity to both villages.
Under normal circumstances, Rmeish residents would reach Ayn Ebel in just a few minutes. The road is currently passable but off-limits to residents, due to security risks and Israel’s issuance of movement permits throughout the area.
Chronicles of war
And so, within a single geographic space — where homes overlap in terms of land registry, and where the demographic, social, and economic fabric is remarkably similar — residents hold on after choosing to stay, so that their land and homes will not be stolen from them. They forge resilience out of an unlivable reality. Local solidarity networks, aid convoys, and crisis cells have all played a vital role in making this possible.
Early every morning, most residents check on their basic necessities — food supplies and whatever vegetables might be available, that is, if they are available at all — and perhaps some meat to form the raw ingredients for a potential meal. Then they check their water tanks and car fuel, before the sounds of airstrikes, shells, and violent explosions scatter their focus once again — not to mention the Israeli warplanes and drones that never leave the skies above those villages. These are the chronicles of this ugly, deeply heavy war.
Total isolation
Hanna al-Amil, mayor of Rmeish, says: “We are living this war with all its tragedies. We hear the sounds of shelling and explosions. We are exhausted, and unfortunately the war becomes harder with every road that is cut and every moment we are left completely isolated — with no connection or contact with neighboring villages.”
In the face of this emergency reality that has overtaken people’s lives there, three core elements have formed the backbone of managing this resilience: humanitarian aid convoys, individual struggle, and local solidarity.
“The war becomes harder with every road that is cut and every moment we are left completely isolated”
Lifeline convoys
According to al-Amil: “Fuel trucks reached the merchants last Thursday, June 18,” while the last humanitarian aid convoy arrived about 3 weeks ago, carrying essential goods — food supplies, fuel, flour, medical supplies, and medicine. He adds, speaking to Silat Wassel: “We suffer from the same problem every time it comes around.”
This suffering recurs periodically: supplies needed by the villages are secured by official and international bodies through aid convoys, consumed before Israel allows new convoys to enter — escorted by UNIFIL and the Lebanese Army. Local traders also secure some goods that residents purchase (such as fuel).
These convoys reach them through towns and villages that Israel has fully or partially destroyed — such as Sidiqin, Kfra, and Haris — with Civil Defense personnel continuously working to keep the roads open so that the connections there are not severed.
But the greatest tragedy occurs when hospitalization is needed: “A person may die before being transferred to a hospital. The process can take many days before it is permitted,” says al-Amil.
Crisis cells
The village’s own people lead these initiatives on the ground, in coordination with the crisis cell established by the municipality for this purpose — in both Rmeish and Ayn Ebel. In Beirut as well, there are two crisis cells: one dedicated to Rmeish’s affairs and another to Ayn Ebel’s, to coordinate the needs of those villages and ensure their supplies.
Ayoub Khreish, mayor of Ayn Ebel, says: “Previously, food rations would reach us. Families now have enough of those, and they are also drawing on their pantry provisions they had stored, as well as some summer crops such as cucumbers, tomatoes, and maqta’.” Residents of villages there are accustomed to growing vegetables in the green spaces in front of their homes.
Convoys also bring fuel: “We have electric generators through which we provide electricity to people.” On the health front: “We have a clinic funded by Caritas that is always open to provide first aid to residents.” Residents there suffer from a constant shortage of basic supplies — especially fuel, which periodically runs the risk of running out.
He says: “The road to us is nearly cut off, like the entire Yellow Zone. We had written to the President of the Republic to secure a humanitarian corridor to bring in what we need to keep going. Yesterday, our fuel needs for the petrol stations arrived.” Khreish notes that these supplies are paid for by traders and do not come as humanitarian aid.
Social Affairs: waiting for approval
For its part, sources at the Ministry of Social Affairs confirm to the Silat Wassel platform: “We are in a state of constant follow-up and coordination to secure the needs of residents in the border villages, and we are always organizing relief convoys and humanitarian aid — pending approval to enter the villages.”
They add, speaking to Silat Wassel: “Over the past period, the Ministry has provided financial assistance to residents in the villages of Bint Jbeil district and other villages whose residents are holding on, in accordance with the lists provided by the municipalities there.” The Ministry is also in constant coordination with all relevant parties as well as with displaced persons.
As Israeli attacks on Lebanon continue — and specifically on villages and towns in southern Lebanon — with no legal or moral deterrent in sight, and with no signs pointing to any fundamental solution that might end the Israeli war on Lebanon anytime soon, the residents of Rmeish and Ayn Ebel will keep devising new mechanisms of resilience to stand up to the Israeli siege.
