Families flee to Beirut’s seafront to escape devastating Israeli attacks

Beirut, Lebanon – Normally at about 1am on a Saturday morning, parking is easy to find at Ramlet el-Bayda on Beirut’s seafront.

On this Saturday morning, however, cars were bumper to bumper on both sides of the road. Many were double parked and more kept arriving, as people continued to flee the devastating waves of Israeli attacks on southern parts of Lebanon’s capital.

Earlier that evening, the Israeli military levelled a block of buildings in Beirut’s southern suburbs, killing at least six and wounding another 91. The death toll is likely to rise further.

Israel claimed the intended target was a central Hezbollah headquarters and that Hezbollah’s leader Hassan Nasrallah has been killed. Hezbollah has yet to issue a statement on his fate.

On the seafront, people laid down mattresses on the pavement or towels down on the beach. Further along the sand, some set up plastic chairs facing the water or sat around tables drinking coffee or smoking argileh pipes. Groups of children ran around and played.

Some people said they would spend the night here, while others said they were unsure. They didn’t think that far ahead, they just knew they had to escape Beirut’s southern suburbs.

The Israeli military had also released a statement, including publishing maps, saying that three buildings in the area would be hit.

Ayman, a 24-year-old man from Deir Az Zor in Syria, told Al Jazeera that “there’s no one left” in the densely populated southern Beirut suburb of Dahiyeh.

“Everyone is leaving. Whoever doesn’t have a car is fleeing by scooter, whoever doesn’t have a scooter is fleeing by foot,” he said.

Ayman sat among a group of other Syrian men who came to the seafront because they had nowhere else to go. A couple of them said they would try to return to Syria.

“I’ll sleep on the pavement,” he said with a wry smile. “The sand’s a bit cold.”

While some dealt with the stress through humour, others were more visibly rattled by the fear. One young girl, whose family was sitting on the pavement opposite the beach, was so afraid that she began to vomit.

Others expressed neither fear nor humour, but a kind of emotionless resignation.

Near the water, a Lebanese family of three had set down a beach blanket. The man stood smoking a cigarette. He didn’t offer his name but said he was born in 1975. He had lived through several conflicts, including the 1975-1990 war and the 2006 conflict between Hezbollah and Israel.

“This is his first war,” the man, who was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, said, pointing to his son, who stood next to him cross-armed and quiet, while the woman sat on the blanket with her back to the sea. The boy remained quiet as his father spoke, offering only that he was in sixth grade.

He said his son had been at an uncle’s house and when they heard the news, they raced to pick him up and get to safety.

As the man spoke, Israel’s military began bombing the areas in the recently released maps. Every so often in the distance, a muffled thud was heard.

The bombing in the suburbs continued until about 5am, while other raids were conducted in the south, the Bekaa Valley in the east, and even reportedly in Keserwan, north of Beirut.

The Israeli military also released a statement demanding that the Lebanese airport not be used to receive weapons for Hezbollah.

“We are announcing, we will not allow enemy flights with weapons to land at the civilian airport in Beirut. This is a civilian airport, for civilian use, and it must stay that way,” Israeli military spokesman Daniel Hagari said.

The man sitting by the sea with his family took a quick look at the waves crashing against the shore. They had fled the south for Beirut’s southern suburbs 11 months ago. And tonight, they fled once again.

“We came here because it’s probably the safest place,” he said.

“You know, I was the only one in my family who didn’t pick up arms and join a militia,” he said, his voice contemplative, as though he was questioning fate itself and his ability to affect it.

“We’re six boys and all joined one group or another. Even my father fought,” he said, between drags on his cigarette. “But I refused.”