The Israeli soldier stood on the balcony of a distant Lebanese house overlooking a yellow gate that marks the boundary between Lebanese-controlled land and the Israeli-occupied south.
“Go back,” he yelled through a megaphone to a convoy of cars. He was so far away that his voice was almost inaudible but his words carried a stark message: turn back, or risk death. “You don’t have permission to enter.”
But the convoy – sponsored by the French charity L'oeuvre d'Orient – did have permission. It had also been co-ordinated by the UN Interim Force in Lebanon (Unifil).
Nonetheless, it was forced to turn back. The National was with the convoy, alongside journalists from around a dozen international news organisations, including AFP, The Washington Post, The Observer and France 24. They were meant to accompany the charity on Monday to Christian-majority villages within the occupied area: Ein Ebel, Debel and Rmeish, where about 7,000 Lebanese residents are cut off from the rest of their country.
“Charities like L'oeuvre d'Orient are the only lifeline linking Lebanon to those villages,” Vincent Gelot, the Lebanon director of the charity, told The National.
Under the scorching sun, aid workers and journalists sat for hours in the no-man’s land between the last Lebanese army checkpoint – abandoned – and the first Israeli position, waiting as Unifil attempted to negotiate entry with Israeli forces.
Israeli flags and signs in Hebrew now line the road leading to the Israeli-controlled area – jarring markers of occupation.
It was not the first time L'oeuvre d'Orient had been denied access to Israeli-occupied southern Lebanon. This time, however, the convoy was led by Monsignor Hugues de Woillemont, the charity's director and one of France's leading representatives of the Eastern Churches.
This made no difference to Israeli soldiers, who have sometimes even denied aid convoys sent by the Apostolic Nuncio Paolo Borgia, the Pope's ambassador to Lebanon.
“Without humanitarian convoys, these villages are totally unreachable,” Mr Gelot said. “The population cannot leave, so it’s their only link with the rest of the world. It is a bad sign when a convoy cannot reach them.”
In the four months since the start of the Hezbollah-Israel war and Israel’s invasion of the south, L'oeuvre d'Orient has completed around 15 missions. Like every charity delivering aid to south Lebanon’s isolated border communities, it knows a successful mission is a gamble – never guaranteed. It’s a heavy burden to bear for aid workers who realise how dependent the border villages are on the supplies they deliver. “We are sorry to the villages we couldn’t get to today,” Mr Gelot said.
Father Hani Tawk, a priest and founder of the NGO Mariam’s Soup Kitchen, which delivers meals to the border communities, was not surprised.
“It happens,” he told The National. He said he makes the trip to the border villages once a week to deliver aid – sometimes with L'oeuvre d'Orient, or with other charities willing to make the dangerous trek.
“During the height of the war we would sometimes be caught for hours, even overnight, seeking to enter as Hezbollah and Israel clashed,” he said. “We’d wait for hours while under fire, not knowing whether we’d be able to enter or not.”
In June, a convoy led by the Apostolic Nuncio Paolo Borgia – 25 aid lorries and several cars transporting residents who wanted to return home – was met by Israeli tanks, which prevented it from continuing its journey.
At the time, Mr Gelot accused the Israeli army of blocking the convoy, saying in a video that soldiers had fired several rounds and bursts of machinegun fire.
Israel controls all movement of residents living within the occupied zone. Residents cannot travel north of the so-called yellow line except in specific cases such as emergency medical appointments. Israel’s decision to approve or deny such trips is not explained and is often arbitrary, residents told The National.
“You've just experienced what we live through on a daily basis,” said Joseph Attieh, an official from Debel. “We submit our requests. Sometimes they approve, sometimes they don’t and you never know why,” he said. He added that a journey that has been initially cleared is often turned back at the last minute.
Black hole of information
This time, the Israeli army gave no clear reason for the last-minute change to its decision but Unifil said the presence of journalists had likely played a major role.
It has become almost impossible for domestic and international journalists to access areas of Lebanon beyond the so-called Israeli-controlled “security zone”. The last journalist who tried to cross it without Unifil co-ordination was Amal Khalil, who was killed in April after repeated Israeli strikes that appeared to hunt her down.
“It would be a suicide to go without Unifil,” Mr Gelot told The National.
Journalists have little choice but to embed themselves with international organisations and charities to report from within the security zone. But such access remains exceptional.
Unable to access the border villages in southern Lebanon’s western sector, The National has frequently resorted to speaking to residents by phone to understand how they get by. But these villagers are often afraid to speak in detail, fearing Israeli forces are surrounding their communities.
“I believe they denied access because they don’t want people to see what is happening – from the destruction to the psychological distress,” Mr Attieh said.
He is among those The National has been talking to by phone for months. The National was supposed to meet him on Monday before being forced to turn back. “The media is the weapon they fear most because it shows the world our reality on the ground,” he said of Israeli troops.
The issue of who provides aid has become existential for Lebanon’s border villages, particularly since Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s claim that these Christian villages would be happy to be annexed by Israel – a claim community representatives denounced immediately.
Aid from inside Israel is dropped off near the still-populated Lebanese villages every month – even as Israeli forces regulate which aid organisations can access the villages from the Lebanese side.
According to Mr Attieh, Samaritan's Purse - the US evangelical Christian organisation led by Franklin Graham, an outspoken supporter of Israel – has delivered monthly aid shipments from Israel to the outskirts of Ein Ebel.
The Israeli army dropped the aid on the outskirts of the village, where it was collected by residents. The military is not directly involved in distributing the aid, he clarified.
The isolated residents have little choice but to accept the supplies, given Israeli restrictions on aid delivered from inside Lebanon.
“We won’t fall for any attempts of division”, Mr Attieh insisted. “Our identity is Lebanese above all.”
Aware of Israel’s efforts to placate the very population it occupies, NGO workers in Lebanon remain determined to continue providing aid for as long as they can.
“The presence of the population in those Christian villages is very important for all of Lebanon, because it maintains a Lebanese presence,” Mr Gelot said. “Without them, this part of the country would be empty of Lebanese people.”
