Once a thriving village on Lebanon’s southern border, Tair Harfa now stands in ruins. After months of relentless ‘Israeli’ bombardment, little remains of what was once home to hundreds of families. Of its many houses, only 15 are still standing barely intact. The rest were either leveled by airstrikes during the war or systematically demolished after the ceasefire.

Last week, following the withdrawal of Israeli forces, displaced residents returned for the first time in over a year. Yet their homecoming is far from permanent. Tair Harfa has been rendered uninhabitable—its infrastructure obliterated, leaving no water, electricity, or roads. Streets have been churned into rubble, power lines torn down, water pipes ripped from the ground, and communication towers flattened.

Despite the devastation, life is slowly returning. By day, the village comes alive with its people, combing through the wreckage, salvaging what remains before retreating to temporary shelters. Engineers survey the damage, bulldozers work to clear roads, and residents cling to what remains. Ahmad, whose house still stands, refuses to leave. “Solar panels give me enough electricity, and rainwater fills the well,” he says, already replanting his land in defiance of the destruction around him.

For others, the loss is more than material. Jana sets up breakfast in the remnants of her kitchen, pouring tea into cups that somehow survived. “Our first breakfast at home in over a year,” she says. Nearby, her neighbor Maryam gathers scattered schoolbooks, family photos, and broken furniture to take back to a rented apartment in Tyre. Kamel stands before the ruins of his home—destroyed once again, just as it was in 2006. Yet he refuses to abandon Tair Harfa. “I’m a civil engineer. I’ll rebuild my house and help reconstruct the village,” he declares.

Beyond the ruins, families of martyrs return to the homes where their sons took their last stand. One mother searches through the rubble until she finds her son’s old backpack. Pressing it to her face, she breathes in its fading scent before gathering the bullet casings around it. “These were his,” she whispers, taking comfort in knowing he fought at point-blank range before he fell.

Tair Harfa may be a ghost of what it once was, but its people refuse to let it die. They are already rebuilding, one brick, one olive tree, one step at a time.

Al Akhbar

From Hezbollah – The story from within