On a flight to Beirut, love in times of war | Conflict in the Middle East

On this foggy Tuesday in October, at Frankfurt airport, in Germany, a certain frenzy, mixed with anxiety, can be seen on the faces of around sixty people, standing in front of the E2 boarding gate, the The opening is long overdue.

Is the flight to Beirut maintained? Nassima asks an airport employee, who tells her to wait. I come from far away and I don’t want to get stuck in Frankfurtsays out loud the 59-year-old Lebanese woman who has just spent two months with her sister in Ottawa.

Several other travelers around her agree, nodding their heads. They fear that the theft of the Middle East Airlines (MEA), the only airline that continues to serve Lebanon, is canceled due to the intensification of Israeli strikes against the country, particularly in the southern suburbs of Beirut, near the airport.

Nassima was initially supposed to spend five months with her sister in Ottawa, but she decided to cut short her stay to return to Lebanon, because I don’t want to leave my children aloneshe explains.

Her sister immigrated to Canada 35 years ago. She wanted Nassima to apply for asylum to stay with her in Ottawa, but that was out of the question. I can’t leave Lebanon, I don’t want to emigrateNassima told me in a categorical tone. It’s inconceivable for me to let go of my country, even if there is war!

Kamil Halabi listens attentively to our conversation. He too had to cut short his stay in Canada, where he was visiting his daughter in Edmonton, to return to his native village of Yanta, in southeast Lebanon. This retiree, who lived in Alberta for more than 25 years, says he made the decision to return home when Israeli strikes intensified a month ago.

I am attached to my Lebanese roots. When you love a country, you have to love it in all its forms. For better, or for worse.

His village has so far been spared from the bombings, but no one is safehe assures.

I’m not afraidfurther asserts Mr. Halabi. We are used to wars. I experienced the Israeli invasion of South Lebanon in 1982 as well as the Israeli war of July 2006.

I was born in this country and this is where I want to diehe adds.

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A young man, wearing a smart black three-piece suit over a white shirt, walks toward the group with sparkling eyes. He wants to tell his story to anyone who will listen: I’m going to Lebanon to meet my fiancée for the first time!says Omrane, 24 years old. We’ve been talking on the phone for four years, but we’ve never seen each other in person yet.

A former Syrian refugee in Lebanon, Omrane has lived in Germany for six years, where he works as a chef in a steakhouse. If he decided two days ago, on a whimas he says, to buy a plane ticket to Lebanon to finally meet his fiancée, is because he has just obtained his permanent residence in Germany. Before, it was complicated for me to leave Germany, without papershe says. But I promised Raghad to come see her as soon as I had my residence in hand.

Raghad, his fiancée, is also of Syrian origin, but took refuge in Lebanon with her parents more than twelve years ago to flee the violence in her country.

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I don’t care about the war, I decided to go to Lebanon because my fiancée means everything to me. She is my life.

Omrane plans to stay about a month in Lebanon alongside his lover. He hopes to marry her before returning to Germany.

Her dazzling smile makes you forget, for a moment, that a war is ravaging her destination country. And yet, the region where Raghad lives, in the Bekaa, in eastern Lebanon, is targeted almost daily by Israeli bombings. Omrane, however, does not seem worried.

War, I know that. I was born in warhe confides. As a child, when I was in Syria, I was caught in the middle of a firefight between soldiers and rebels while going to the bakery to buy bread. It was like in action movies! I was only 10 years old, there were dead bodies in the streethe says again.

My colleagues in Germany think I’m crazy for going to Lebanon in the middle of warfinally blurts out Omrane. But look around you, I’m clearly not the only onehe adds, referring to the dozens of other passengers on board the plane.

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Among these passengers are around fifteen Austrian peacekeepers, sent as reinforcements to support the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) which operates in the south of the country, on the Israeli border.

Alexander, who prefers to withhold his last name because he is not authorized to speak to the media, says he does not fear for his safety in South Lebanon, even though our base was targeted several times by gunfire.

The UNIFILwhich has more than 10,000 soldiers from 40 different countries, is caught in the crossfire.

On Tuesday, eight of his compatriots were injured by the firing of a rocket allegedly launched by Hezbollah, according to the UNIFIL. A few weeks earlier, the peacekeeping force of theHIM accused the Israeli army of firing on its positions, injuring five of its members and damaging equipment.

In the aisles of the plane to Beirut, flight attendants, elegant in their royal blue uniforms, serve food and drinks to passengers. They are also not allowed to speak to journalists.

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One of them, however, agrees to do so on condition of anonymity. She feels completely safe in the air. It is my colleagues who work on the ground, in the airport, who are most at risk of being targeted by bombingsshe explains. Here, we are on a plane full of civilians, we have no fear for our safety.

During the last Israeli war, in July 2006, Beirut airport was put out of service on the second day of the conflict after being targeted by a bombing.

At the beginning of October, the CEO of the airline assured that it had received guarantees from Lebanese authorities and Western embassies that the airport would not be targeted.

In total, the THING maintained some 40 flights per day to and from the Lebanese capital.

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More than three hours after taking off from Frankfurt, our plane lands on the runway that runs along the Mediterranean Sea, on one side, and the southern suburbs of Beirut, on the other.

It’s night. Passengers scan the horizon by looking out the portholes. There are no visible signs of bombing or thick black smoke coming from the city. It’s a quiet eveningsaid one of the hostesses. Sometimes we see smoke in the distance.

In front of the arrivals gate, around twenty people, mostly men, are waiting for passengers to exit. A woman, holding a bouquet of white roses in her hands, stands out from the crowd. His eyes stare at everyone who walks through the door, one by one.

It’s Raghad, Omrane’s fiancée.

Dressed in a long light blue jacket, a white veil on her head, she struggles to hide her enthusiasm.

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I’m finally going to see him after four years, do you realize?she says to me, all smiles, before turning around to watch for Omrane’s arrival.

The latter is slow to come out. He is questioned by a customs agent who examines his travel documents.

Finally, he appears behind the door. His eyes immediately spot Raghad, who rushes anxiously towards him, handing him the bouquet. The lovers hug briefly, out of modesty, and quickly leave the airport to head towards the Bekaa.

Less than twelve hours later, the Israeli army announces that it is preparing to strike the region forcefully against Hezbollah. Its approximately 80,000 inhabitants must leave their homes immediately.

Omrane and Raghad’s wedding may have to wait; outside, it’s war.