Uneasy Quiet Along Border

Drivers, maneuvering their vehicles with characteristic Lebanese hastiness, have flooded roadways again. Here and there, children walk in pairs along the roadside, laughing in the sunshine.

But when the sun goes down, the Israeli tanks come to Marwaheen, piercing through the border less than half a mile away.

“They come at night and go up the hill,” Ali Abed, a 39-year-old resident of this Sunni Muslim town, said Saturday. “They don’t talk to us. We are afraid of the Israelis because they’re still in our area.”

Still, some measure of calm has begun to return to southern Lebanon nearly two weeks after a cease-fire ended more than a month of fighting between Israeli troops and Hezbollah fighters.

Even in towns reduced to rubble by Israeli airstrikes and shelling, streets have been cleared of debris and unexploded ordnance, allowing international and local relief workers to enter areas such as Aita Shaab, where more than 90% of housing appears to be damaged or destroyed.

“The people who came to this town and see their house still stay even if it’s destroyed,” said Derwish Abdel Awab of the Moroccan Health Committee to Support Lebanon and Palestine. “Most go to stay with their neighbors.”

Hezbollah, the political party and militia that sparked the war by capturing two Israeli soldiers last month, has taken on an aggressive role in the reconstruction effort, most famously by handing out $12,000 in wads of crisp $100 bills to those who lost their homes. But other political groups have also become involved.

In Rumaysh, a Christian town, followers of Christian leader Michel Aoun have begun attending to the needs of families. “We are giving help to the families in this area,” said Marwan Alam, one of the local supporters. “They have none of the services the government provides -- utilities like electricity, water and telephone.”

Chanell Hefnawy is a volunteer for the Hariri Foundation, the charity created by assassinated former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, whose political supporters have been critical of Hezbollah. She has come to help out the residents of Aita Shaab, the mostly Shiite, Hezbollah stronghold, with a truckload of canned food, flour and bottled water.

“All of us are Lebanese,” said Hefnawy, a resident of the wealthy, mostly Sunni coastal city of Sidon. “Even if we have differences politically.”

Contractors have begun rebuilding some homes that were not directly hit in the bombing campaign. Utility workers have begun restoring the electrical power grid. Gas stations have reopened, and a fuel crunch appears to have been averted.

Medical workers have started addressing secondary needs of a populace shocked by war and destruction.

“The humanitarian situation needs more attention from the government and the agencies,” said Fahdi Atrash, a doctor at the main hospital in Bint Jbeil, which now serves a huge swath of southern Lebanon. “We don’t have enough drugs for the patients suffering high blood pressure and heart problems that have developed because of the war. There’s a lot of psychological trauma.”

Residents along the border say the Israeli troop movements continue to throw them off balance. Along the zigzagging frontier, where the lush, suburban American-style housing developments of Israel are visible, they complain of Israeli drones flying above as well as the nightly tank incursions.

“Every day they’re coming,” said Ali Samir, a 44-year-old resident of the border town of Yarine. “All the kids can’t sleep at night because of the sounds of the tanks.”

Israel says it will fully withdraw from southern Lebanon once international and Lebanese government troops take over security in the region, which has long been under the de facto control of Iranian-backed Hezbollah militiamen and other armed Shiite groups.

Small contingents of Lebanese and U.N. troops could be spotted frequently Saturday.

In Kherbet Selem, a gaggle of a dozen Lebanese army soldiers gathered at a checkpoint. The Tibnin Government Hospital has been taken over by Lebanese soldiers armed with shiny American-made M-16 assault rifles, and used as an apparent garrison for the local commander, who declined to speak to a pair of reporters.

Lone Lebanese soldiers stood guard at a checkpoint. White United Nations sport utility vehicles and armored personnel carriers, sporting little blue flags, zipped by.

There were signs that the process of handing over areas to U.N. and Lebanese troops was working. In Maroun el Ras, a badly damaged area held until a few days ago by Israelis, U.N. soldiers in an armored personnel carrier from the West African nation of Ghana escorted an elderly Lebanese man and his Sri Lankan maid back to their cottage on a ridge overlooking Israel.

The families are trickling back, at least for a look.

“We reassure them that the situation is very calm, and they can go back to their homes if they wish,” said Staff Sgt. Lawson Galley, of Ghana.

Mohammad Bazzi, a 32-year-old who grew up in Dearborn, Mich., helped repair his cousins’ house in Maroun el Ras.

His own home, electronics shop and black 1994 Mustang were destroyed in the bombing. He said he was heading back to America for good, as soon as he got the $12,000 promised to him by Hezbollah.

“I have my American mind,” said Bazzi, who returned here two years ago to reconnect with his roots and take part in the boom that followed the 2000 Israeli withdrawal from south Lebanon. “I’m waiting to get my money and say, ‘See you later, guys.’ ”