Israeli-Hezbollah Conflict Scars Still Show at Market Day in Bint Jbail

BINT JBAIL, Lebanon -- Every Thursday the residents of Bint Jbail crowd into a few rubble covered streets in the center of the city, largely destroyed during last summer's Israeli-Hezbollah conflict, for the weekly open market. Vendors show up early and jockey for space on sidewalks and corners to sell everything from live, rainbow colored chicks, to shower curtains, to jewelry -- all with the crumbling remains of their city behind them. From 10 a.m. until 2 p.m. the streets are effectively closed as shrewd businessmen and women argue with passers-by over the quality of their various products and a handful of roving salesmen desperately shout out "5000! [Lebanese Pounds] 5000! For one kilo sugar!"

Though spirits are high among the shoppers and seller alike in the market, obvious signs of the general air of tension are everywhere. Lebanese troops pace through the crowd with M16 rifles radioing commands to one another, while UN armored vehicles overlook the city streets with M60 machine guns.

Banners bearing portraits of fallen Hezbollah fighters adorn the balconies and window sills of the buildings fortunate enough to still be standing. Several booths scattered throughout the market sell T-shirts with the face of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrullah plastered on the front.

For most present, however, things are business as usual. "We stopped for one month. Just a single month," claimed a middle aged man working a booth that sold seeds and nuts when referring to the brief halt of the weekly market during last summer's war. He made about $50 that day. The market is an old tradition in the city. One that took place before the war and one that survived it.

To the war weary citizens, the weekly open market is a comforting sign of normalcy in their increasingly chaotic environment. "No, no I didn't come to buy anything," admits one city resident pacing through the market as the 2 p.m. closing hour approached. He, like many others, came and left empty handed, only showing up for love of the market and the opportunity to socialize.

The city of Bint Jbail is located within sight of the Israeli border. No map is needed to know this as a tall metal fence laced with rolls upon rolls of razor wire that stretches well into the horizon marks the point at which Lebanon ends and Israel begins. Even the vegetation changes drastically at the border, with mostly barren dirt and rock on the Lebanese side and lush orchards and forests on the Israeli side -- a product of the dramatic differences in irrigation capacities.

During last summer's war, Bint Jbail bore the brunt of the Israeli offensive into Lebanon after a Hezbollah cross border raid and that ended in the capture of two Israeli soldiers. Historically, it has been a hot bed of Hezbollah militancy and conflict with Israel making war a common source of conversation when thoughts of old times arise among its residents. As I leave the market a young boy, maybe 7 years old, runs into me almost knocking my camera out of my hands yelling, "Take my picture, take my picture!" At this critical point in Lebanon's existence, war could either be a fuzzy childhood memory for the young boy when he becomes an adult, or, like it has most surely become for his parents, business as usual.