In brief
Crowds gather nightly to witness airstrikes targeting Dahiya, with mixed emotions as shock and sectarian tensions mount.
Every evening, a diverse group of onlookers assembles on a hillside overlooking the stretch of southern Beirut known as Dahiya, a region recently ravaged by Israeli airstrikes as part of the escalating conflict with Hezbollah. Young men, elderly couples, and local journalists mingle, drawn together by a shared curiosity to witness the unfolding war.As twilight falls, the hillside transforms into an impromptu viewing platform. Viewers perch atop motorcycles and crumbling cement barriers, anticipation palpable in the air. Their focus sharpens at each resounding explosion from the airstrikes, eyes darting towards the horizon to catch sight of the characteristic cloud of smoke, a harbinger of what has just been targeted."Look! Over by the balcony!" Osama Assaf, a 43-year-old local, excitedly gestures to a distant structure, soliciting responses from those nearby.As the conflict deepens with frequent airstrikes by Israeli forces aimed at Hezbollah installations, these nightly gatherings have become a grim routine for residents of Baabda—a mountainous suburb southeast of the Lebanese capital. This area has traditionally been a tranquil spot for picnics, with locals enjoying the Mediterranean sunset. However, the war has altered its purpose, transforming it into an unfiltered view of destruction.Dahiya is densely populated with high-rise apartments and residential streets, mainly inhabited by Shiite Muslims and overseen by Hezbollah, the militant group backed by Iran. Israeli officials assert that their airstrikes target military assets in the enclave, but the resulting demolition has turned Dahiya into a haunting landscape of ash and wreckage.Initially frequented by local television reporters who provided live updates, the hillside has since attracted Dahiya locals displaced by the conflict, yearning for real-time information about the fates of their homes and families. Beyond their desire for news, some come out of boredom, their former routines shattered by ongoing hostilities. It is also noteworthy that young men from nearby Christian communities occasionally join the spectators, contributing to the already complex tapestry of sectarian tensions that characterize Lebanese society.As the cycles of airstrikes continue, the audience on the hillside represents a microcosm of a city at war—one where proximity to destruction breeds a mix of dread and intrigue, as civilians navigate the delicate balance between fear and routine observation of their evolving reality.
