Lebanese forced to bury their dead twice as war robs them of final goodbyes | Lebanon

In Lebanon, the dead are often given a final look at their hometown before being buried. The coffins of the living, lifted above their heads, are slowly carried through the streets where they grew up.

It is the hands of their loved ones that guide them to their final resting place, which has already been dug, and gently sprinkles earth on their bodies.

In southern Lebanon, the war robbed the dead of their right to say their last farewell. As Israel expands its ground offensive, families are being forced to abandon traditional funeral rites and bury their loved ones in temporary cemeteries further north.

In Tire, 2 meter wide ditches were dug to shelter the dead. The inscriptions are brief: a number spray-painted in bright red on a thin wooden board to count the dead.

Rabih Koubaissi remained in Tire to oversee the funerals, despite Israeli orders for people to leave the area and air strikes on the city. This is his second fight in three years.

The imam explained that in Islam, a body should not be exhumed after burial. It is usually washed, wrapped in a white shroud, and placed directly on the ground without the coffin, which must return to the ground undisturbed.

However, in exceptional circumstances such as war, a private funeral may be held. In Islamic law, there is a procedure by which bodies can be buried in a coffin. Wadiaa, It literally means “deposit”. According to the theory, it is not the body that is re-excavated but the coffin.

“A Muslim can be buried in any Muslim cemetery. But there is an emotional bond between people; they want their loved ones to be buried in the land of their ancestors. This reflects belonging, heritage and presence,” Koubaissi said.

The brutality of the war disrupted every step of the burial ceremony, sometimes making it impossible to wash the bodies of the dead.

“Sometimes we just get body parts,” he said. “In these cases, we gather what we can, put them in a shroud and a body bag, and then put them in the coffin.”

Koubaissi said that although makeshift burials provide some peace, they are ultimately a source of pain. “It’s very difficult. Families have to bury their loved ones twice.”

But people in South Lebanon worry that they won’t have the chance to bury their loved ones in their homes. Statements by Israeli officials that the army will occupy the area south of the Litani River indefinitely have raised fears that it could be months or years before the Lebanese people can finally bury their loved ones in their ancestral homes.

Even if Israeli soldiers withdraw, people are worried about what awaits them when they return to their villages.

In November 2024, at the end of the 13-month war between Hezbollah and Israel, people from the border village of Dhayra flocked to rebury two residents killed in airstrikes months earlier and buried in temporary cemeteries in Tire.

However, when they returned home, they found the village cemetery in ruins. Israeli bulldozers razed cemeteries and the local mosque was destroyed; the bodies had to be buried in an alternative cemetery.

There are few visitors as the dead await reburial. After attending hastily made makeshift funerals, most families were forced to leave Tire as the city came under increasing attacks.

A young couple, who stayed in Tire despite the dangers, visited one of the temporary cemeteries next to the graves of two young people from the town of Al-Qlailah last week and took care of the flowers.

These are the only tombs with pictures of the dead. The emotional couple consoled each other while looking at the photos.

Standing on the first grave in the row, Hecham Reda, a doctor from the border village of Aita al-Chaab, began to cry as he remembered his friend.

“Hadi was always with us, extinguishing the fires, carrying the martyrs. He had no time in this war. The attack that hit him was swift and brutal,” said Reda, who, like many people in southern Lebanon, feared he would never get the chance to bury his friend in his home.

While Koubaissi looks at the graves, air strikes are made from afar. He doesn’t bother looking up when they hit.

“The hardest part is when families ask you what their loved ones look like,” she said. “They can’t see it, but I saw it. You can’t lie to them, but you can’t tell them the truth either. That’s why you try to console them.

“It’s a very heavy feeling. We hadn’t even recovered from the last war before we went into this.”