In the field with bomb-clearers making Lebanon safer despite Israeli airstrikes
Ahmad Mustafa’s hands are trembling. Standing in the middle of an olive grove in the village of Kfarmelki, he holds out a row of his own disfigured fingers – memories from a cluster bomb that tore through his body after the 2006 Lebanon War.
‘During my recovery in hospital, I heard about a lot of accidents happening,’ he tells Metro, just metres away from where a large ‘demining site’ sign has been propped up in the ground.
‘Many children were maimed or killed by cluster munitions. So this was my motivation to get better and to go back on the ground.’
Now, nearly two decades later, he is still in the field, combing through earth and rubble for the same kind of explosive that nearly killed him at the age of 21.
The work of people like Ahmad, a field operations manager with the Mines Advisory Group (MAG), a UK-based charity, is now more vital than ever as around 1 million displaced people return to their homes after the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah.
‘This is only 5% of what was destroyed’
MAG’s task is far from easy, as Metro learns after joining deminers in the field in southern Lebanon where Israel’s aerial bombardments still shape people’s lives daily.
As the car drives through the centre of Nabatieh, the hardest hit major city in the south, mountains of pulverised concrete and twisted rods of metal mark where homes once stood.
‘This is only 5% of what was destroyed,’ says Ali Shuaib, community liaison manager for MAG, as he gestures at a crater on the side of the road.
At the site in Kfarmelki, around 15 miles from the Israeli border, deminers have been meticulously clearing the land since March.
During the war, the village was shelled again and again – 20 buildings were incinerated. Nine people, including a young girl, were killed in the attacks.
Alongside homes, shops and a mosque, an Israeli airstrike tore through a Hezbollah ammunition depot as well, sending cluster munitions [a type of weapon that releases submunitions] hurtling across olive groves.
Around 75,000 square metres later, MAG has uncovered and destroyed 180 bomblets, allowing residents to return safely to their houses and crops.
After a decade of digging up unexploded ordnance (UXOs) with the charity, deminer Joumana Semaan has tricked her brain to assimilate the sound of explosions as a positive one.
Taking a pause from the gruelling task of detecting explosives, the mother-of-one carefully adjusts her grip on the metal detector and tells me: ‘It is a very satisfying feeling to find unexploded ordnance.
‘When I hear the demolition sound [afterwards], I know I have saved a life – not even in this community, but maybe the life of a family member of mine.
‘In a way, it is a positive explosion because we are getting rid of an enemy that we cannot see.’
Like most people in southern Lebanon, Joumana was displaced during the war that came to a stop – sort of – in November 2024, and her family home was damaged.
In Kfarmelki, life appears to have fought its way back in as around 90% of the residents have returned, and efforts to rebuild are well underway. Or at least, so it seems.
Mohamad Sewan, the self-declared ‘best baker’ in the village, is pulling hot manakish – a Lebanese flatbread – from the oven to serve customers, only a few months after being displaced himself.
He fled to another village near the town of Saida, but travelled every two to three days to check on his bakery.
‘Alhamdullilah, nothing was damaged,’ he confirms. ‘For now, we feel safe [because of MAG], but there is still a lot of stress and tension in the village.’
Restaurants have also opened their shutters and classrooms are filled with children again, after most had to learn online during the war.
‘We fled just 15 minutes before the attack’
After returning to her home in Kfarmelki, Farah Mahhmoud is defiant in her resolve to rebuild. A golden ring now sparkles on her left hand.
Engaged at the age of 20, her eyes are bright with a calm kind of certainty.
Before the war, she had planned to study law. Currently, she is pursuing her real passion – a beauty business with her sister.
Sitting on the balcony of her house, her laughter getting partially drowned out by the motorbikes outside, Farah tells me: ‘On the first day of the war, our home was damaged. Thankfully, we were not inside.
‘We had fled just 15 minutes before. Neighbours called and told us. A lot of houses in the village were also hit. We lost many people. Our life is not like it was before. We used to go out, travel to the south; but now we are afraid.
‘We are always stressed because the situation remains unstable. The first thing I thought about after the neighbourhood was hit was my aunt.
‘The house that was entirely destroyed was facing hers. She was wounded, but survived. So was my cousin.
‘During the war, all I could think about was whether my family’s home was still standing or if it was damaged, and if the land was contaminated.’
Israel’s deadly ceasefire violations continue
To this day, Israel continues to hit buildings and vehicles across southern Lebanon and most recently Beirut, alleging that it is targeting Hezbollah members and sites.
Just before the journey to Kfarmelki, MAG staff had pointed out an Israeli drone buzzing overhead in the town of Deir El Zahrani, in the Nabatieh district, all part of the psychological warfare that residents are forced to endure.
Back in their office, programme officer Mariam Gharib’s mobile vibrates. All colour has drained from her face, but she keeps her composure.
Turning the screen of her phone towards me, she shows me a picture of a burning car, with smoke curling towards the sky – an Israeli attack several miles away, and metres from her son’s school. The moment hangs heavy.
First of many assassinations on ‘Hezbollah members’ in months
This is the first of dozens of assassinations of alleged Hezbollah members that would ripple across Lebanon in the weeks to come after.
It is a reminder that MAG staff are not outsiders to the war’s toll, but are survivors instead. Many fled their homes, lost relatives, or returned to find only rubble.
Still clutching her phone, Mariam, who joined the charity 12 years ago, tells me: ‘When the war started, I was at home in the south. We had just come down from the mountains thinking that things were calm.
‘Suddenly, everything exploded. We did not even remove our clothes from the bags before we had to flee again. Our neighborhood was hit – about 50 to 100 meters from our house.
‘A Syrian family who lived nearby was killed – seven people, including their children. They were packing to leave. The driver who was waiting for them was also killed.’
Sitting opposite Mariam – behind a sizable desk – is Hiba Ghandour, MAG’s programme manager.
Putting together her savings, she had already rented a second house in the mountains and welcomed Mariam and her relatives, giving them a refuge.
Both women are born and raised in Lebanon, and have ‘lived through many wars’, and are now bound by joint loss and endurance.
A year has past since Hiba’s home was destroyed by an Israeli airstrike – exactly four days after the family fled.
She says: ‘We left during the war, and sadly, we heard the news that there has been bombing in that area.
‘For some reason, we never believed that it could be ours. When my son saw the photo, he said, “Our home is okay, look, the TV is still on the wall.”‘
It was only recently that Hiba could actually bring herself to visit her home, now nothing more than a ruin.
Outside, two unexploded missiles were lodged in the rubble – the same weapons that MAG spends days mapping and clearing had found their way to her doorstep.
Making a pause to reflect on the importance of her job, Hiba then says: ‘We have heard about accidents. A very close neighbour of mine who was a kid was a victim of a mine explosion.
‘It impacts you, it really hurts you… So it is important now to have people on the ground, at least to get the space safe, and then we can think about recovery and rebuilding.
‘It is quite a satisfying feeling to be able to say that we declared this area free from explosives.’
Many areas in Lebanon remain inaccessible to clear
Lebanon has been contaminated with explosive ordnance for decades, as a result of the 1975-1990 civil war, the 2006 conflict, and repeated cross-border hostilities.
After the 2023-2024 war, almost 2 million square metres of new hazardous land was added to the previously recorded 24 million square metres.
The figures barely reflect the actual impact as a significant portion of the affected areas, particularly along the Blue Line – the demarcation line that divides Lebanon from Israel and the Golan Heights – remains inaccessible.
Despite repeated Israeli violations of the ceasefire with Hezbollah, Lebanon remains off the Global Mine Action Programme’s (GMAP) priority list after being removed in 2021.
This has led to a ‘monumental’ loss in funding for MAG, particularly from the UK.
After the ceasefire, the UK provided a ‘life-saving’ injection of cash that has kept the organisation afloat, but the goal is to bring the country back to the GMAP priority list.
Until then, the sound of explosions continues to reverberate across south Lebanon, more than a month after MAG has completed its clearance operation in Kfarmelki.
Like Joumana notes, some are ‘positive ones’; others, from Israeli jets and drones, send people fleeing their homes, yet again, in search of whatever safety there is left in Lebanon.
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