Like the majority of people, I am now following the development of events in Lebanon via the internet and the somewhat dubious coverage broadcast on CNN. But I am following them with a keener interest, one that is acute in its emotional as well as its political concern. Because until two days ago Lebanon was my home from home, as it had been for the last year. Over my time there I have lived with Palestinians in a refugee camp, with Shia Muslims and immigrant workers in a stronghold of Hezbollah and Amal support in South Beirut, among the mixed and often secular population of Hamra in West Beirut and finally among the largely Christian, often Armenian-descended community of Geitaoui, in East Beirut. Read more about Leaving Lebanon - To What Fate? 

The three-day-old baby Mohammed and his 23-year-old mother Asam were sleeping in their room when an Israeli missile hit their house early this morning in the heart of Jabalia refugee camp, north Gaza. “I do not believe [it], the rocket fallen from the sky near sons and daughter; it is a miracle it did not blow up,” said Husseini Abu Salem, 46, the grandfather of Mohammed. Shadi Abu Salem, the father of the baby, said he has just entered his room when the rocket hit the house. Read more about Can You Describe Your Emotions when a Missile Falls Beside Your Baby? 

I hear it from my neighbours and friends, from phone calls coming in from loved ones abroad. I hear it inside my own head. We all just feel so helpless. How exactly does one face indiscriminate attacks from the air, land and sea? A sense of claustrophobia overcame me when all routes out of Lebanon were being cut off, one after the other. I wasn’t even thinking of leaving, but their moves succeeded in making me feel trapped. My solution? Call a friend living abroad - how trapped can I be if I can still communicate with the outside world? As trite as that might sound, it worked. The magic of psychology. Read more about "Helpless" 

For four days straight, since 12 Wednesday at around noon, Israel has been bombing Beirut, the south of Lebanon, parts of the Bekaa and other parts in Lebanon non-stop. It is 12:49 am Sunday morning right now, and in Beirut, Israeli warplanes are bombing successively on an area called Haret Hreik in the southern suburbs of Beirut, and they have just announced that there is a big fire expanding in the whole area. Two things are sure: First, Israel seems determined to continue its terrorizing, brutal and non-human offensive on Lebanon. Second, when Israeli officials say that one of their priorities in their offensives (anywhere, not only in Lebanon) is to make sure not to hurt civilians, this you can reject by following the news of Lebanon. Read more about Four days of bombing in Beirut 

It feels quite different here than in my home town of El Mreijat, “Bawabet el Beqaa” (The Door to El Beqaa). We heard the bombs quite powerfully there. And several times, we felt them. At the sound of the first bomb that hit quite close to our home (a few kilometers away), my cousin’s youngest son, in mere seconds, went from his strong boyish bravado-demeanor to that of a frightened little boy. He threw his ice cream cone away, and got strong stomach pains. At the sounds of the next bomb, he ran and hid under a table. I wondered how the children in the south and in the southern district of Beirut and in Ba’albeck and in Gaza were withstanding the constant noise and terror. Read more about Our last battle 

Throughout Friday we had only about two hours of electricity in the evening and listening to my girlfriends’ pleas to leave Beirut and come up to the mountain I made it to Rejmeh on Saturday morning. As I mentioned, the day seemed peaceful up there and the mood during lunchtime, when the whole family was gathered, was cheerful and playful. “Don’t worry”, my hosts said, “here in the mountain we are safe from any trouble”. Not for long, though! As my girlfriend and I were visiting in the afternoon the garden of her uncles’ house and playing with the five puppies of their dogs we heard in the distance the sound of planes and bombing once again. Read more about Personal Thoughts From A Besieged Country 

Waiting, one might assume, has a negative connotation, i.e., passivity. But this is not true under siege, where waiting embodies resistance. It is resistance despite all the forms of violence we are facing, resistance to all forms of war we are subjected to, not only from the Israelis but also from the deafening silence of the international community. This is a battle of wills, and whoever’s will breaks first will lose. Waiting under siege is steadfastness, and steadfastness is what is needed now. Read more about Waiting is our struggle 

I kept going back and forth from the balcony to the TV, about 20 times, filming outside and filming the TV screen repetitively. It was real. It was happening. They announced that Israeli jet fighters are approaching Beirut, then I heard them, I saw them, and I filmed them launch missiles to destroy bridges, buildings, roads, and churches, killing four and injuring dozens. The roads were like a ghost town. I captured those too. What I remember most is the unbelievably close sound of the explosions, then the smoke that I could see directly in front of me. Read more about How many people will die while I sleep? 

They say that when one loses an appendage, the sensation never leaves. One is visited by a “referred pain”. Since 1967, when Israel occupied the West Bank and Gaza, approximately one third of all Palestinians have, at one time or another, languished in Israeli prisons, contributing to a vacuum in family life. Today, as Israel and the United States use the capture of three Israeli soldiers to justify civilian massacres in Gaza and Lebanon, nearly 9,000 Palestinians are held in Israel’s detention facilities. Read more about Ghost World, Palestine