08 October, 2024
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Grief, unease, then fear: When an Israeli bomb struck a Beirut funeral

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Grief, unease, then fear: When an Israeli bomb struck a Beirut funeral

Middle East Eye’s reporter describes being at the scene when devices started exploding for the second day in a row

Nader Durgham

Mourners at the funeral of people who were killed by the detonation of pagers across Lebanon, in Beirut, 18 September (Reuters/Mohamed Azakir)

The air was already filled with unease, anger and grief.

Cars and pedestrians crammed along the boulevards and alleyways of Beirut’s southern suburbs, as thousands of Hezbollah supporters, as well other sorrowful Lebanese, made their way to the funeral.

Hands pressed raging leaflets into those of passers-by. Watchful security guards cast an eye on every person entering the main street where Hezbollah had organised a mass funeral for its members killed in the exploding pager attack the day before.

On Tuesday afternoon, the southern suburbs of Beirut, an area known colloquially as Dahiyeh, had become a scene of chaos, with blasts ringing out and stunned and bloody people stumbling onto the streets.

Middle East Eye wanted to speak to residents about how they felt watching it unfold in front of them: pagers exploding in grocery stores, cafes, homes and at least one hospital.


But first I needed to get permission from Hezbollah, who gave access to the tightly secured public funeral it was holding.

Dahiyeh is often described as a Hezbollah “stronghold”. And while it’s true the powerful armed movement is the dominant force in the district, that description omits the heavily residential nature of the area.

As I started opening my notebook, a loud explosion was heard, overshadowing the music, and everyone fell silent.

“What just happened?” people asked one another.

“Was that a sonic boom?” one said, referring to Israeli jets breaking the sound barrier over Beirut, a sound that has haunted residents for weeks.

The sight of people escaping the scene of the blast dispelled the confusion.

Some were screaming in fear, while others started chanting Shia funeral chants.


Hurrying past me, one person asked: “Who would still have their pager on them?” The location of the apparent attack did not go unnoticed. “At a funeral?” I heard one incredulous man say.

Boy scouts raise the picture of a fellow scout killed by an exploding pager, during the funeral procession in Beirut 18 September (AFP/Anwar Amro)
Boy scouts raise the picture of a fellow scout killed by an exploding pager, during the funeral procession in Beirut, 18 September (AFP/Anwar Amro)

All kinds of rumours were already spreading. A police officer told me it was simply someone’s tyre accidentally blowing. Others claimed Israel was hacking phones.

That’s when a raft of messages suddenly broke through the spotty phone service and lit up my screen: similar incidents had taken place in southern and eastern Lebanon. 

As I made my way out, an old woman approached me.

“Young man, please, can you help me switch off my phone?” she asked, explaining that she was afraid it would detonate.

After turning her phone off, I heard a young man scream at another: “Dude, throw away your device!” An ambulance turned on its siren and sped away.


‘A new phase in the war’

I had been on these streets the night before. Usually, Dahiyeh is filled with friends and neighbours hanging out in the shops, cafes and restaurants. But then it was silent and dark, spooked by the violent interruption earlier that day.

Now, a fresh attack had ramped up the fear once again.

It soon became clear that this time it was not pagers that were exploding, but now hand-held radios also used by members of Hezbollah.

The blast near me had been in the middle of the crowd, next to an ambulance, as a victim from the previous attack was being taken out for funerary rites.

For now, everyone seemed intent on trying to escape and get through to their loved ones.

Once I made it to a main road, more scenes of chaos started to unfold. Fleeing cars met ambulances and fire trucks urgently trying to head the opposite way.

“I am now just going to see if my family is okay,” a man who fled the funeral told me, explaining that his relatives live in a building frequented by Hezbollah members.

Lebanon’s health ministry says 25 people were killed in the second wave of attacks on Wednesday, with 604 wounded. The first wave, on Tuesday, left 12 dead, including two children, and wounded almost 3,000.

Israel, widely believed to be behind the attack, has remained tight-lipped. By the day’s end, the first comment was finally uttered by a top Israeli official:

“We are opening a new phase in the war,” said Israeli Defence Minister Yoav Gallant.

Beirut

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