by Dana Halawi

BEIRUT, Jan. 26 (Xinhua) -- As a Lebanese, with the 60-day Israel-Hezbollah ceasefire nearing its end, I can't help but wonder: how long can this fragile peace hold?

Past experience has taught me that in Lebanon, tensions often spiral into conflict, and peace here is never truly permanent.

When the exchange of fire between Hezbollah and Israel erupted in early October 2023, following Hamas' surprise attack on southern Israel and Israel's retaliatory strikes, my family and I were not overly concerned. We believed the conflict would quickly subside or remain contained to the southern border villages. Unfortunately, events took us by surprise.

The tension escalated when Israel expanded its offensive on Sept. 17, 2024, when thousands of people were injured, many of them bleeding, with some losing their lives after their pagers exploded. Lebanon plunged into chaos.

The next day, I ventured out, keeping my distance from anyone carrying a pager. Rumors swirled that mobile phones might explode as well. For days, I stayed away from my handset until experts confirmed that Israel had rigged the pagers with explosives, but mobile phones were not a threat.

The conflict sharply intensified on Sept. 19, with both sides exchanging deadly attacks and vowing further retaliation.

The war soon reached Beirut, my home. Israeli warplanes struck residential areas in the southern suburbs, targeting Hezbollah leaders and militants. Meanwhile, intense battles raged in southern Lebanon, displacing tens of thousands of people who fled to the Lebanese capital.

Beirut's streets became a refuge. People slept on school sidewalks and in mosques. The displaced masses thronged the city, forcing traffic to a standstill. A 7-minute journey from my home to my regular supermarket turned into an hour-long ordeal, and finding a parking place became a battle, all while Israeli drones hovered overhead. Rescuers pulled the bodies of civilians -- children, women, and the elderly -- from beneath the rubble, scenes that will haunt Beirutis for years to come.

When Israeli bombs fell near my home, a deep terror gripped me. Every day, I heard the missiles flying overhead at buildings just hundreds of meters away from my home. Explosions rocked the ground like earthquakes, followed by wailing sirens as ambulances, fire engines and emergency vehicles rushed to the scenes. My nieces, who lived with my brother and sister-in-law in the same building, would scream or cry at every explosion or sonic boom from Israeli jets. Life became so unbearable that my brother decided to move to his friend's house in Baabdat, a safer town in Mount Lebanon.

Departure wasn't an option. My ailing father relied on Beirut's health facilities, which no other region in Lebanon could provide. We stayed in constant fear, only leaving the house for doctor visits, work or necessities.

Every trip felt like a gamble. On Nov. 7, I drove to the airport to pick up my niece, who was returning from France. On my way, I saw thick smoke rising from Israeli airstrikes on Burj al-Barajneh and Choueifat areas near the airport. Hours later, news confirmed that Israeli warplanes had targeted the northern runway of the airport. Leaving the area mere hours earlier sent chills down my spine.

In mid-November, news of ceasefire talks began circulating. On Nov. 26, Israel's cabinet approved the ceasefire deal beginning at 4 a.m. on Nov. 27. But the announcement brought no relief. In the final hours before the ceasefire, Israel launched simultaneous bombing raids on several Beirut neighborhoods.

It was the most helpless time of my life. The bombing was so intense that it felt like there was nowhere to hide or escape. The roads were too dangerous, especially at night. Explosions rocked almost every corner of the city, and we feared the next Israeli strike would hit our building. We stayed awake until the ceasefire, following the Israeli army spokesperson's updates on social media platform X, ready to flee if our street appeared on the target map. Every hour felt like a day. And then, at long last, peace!

The ceasefire agreement stipulated that Israel would withdraw from Lebanese territory within 60 days, with the Lebanese army taking over border security. Yet violations persist. Israel's daily strikes continue, some causing casualties, and Israel has announced plans to maintain forces in southern Lebanon beyond the Sunday withdrawal deadline.

As the ceasefire comes to an end, one question looms: will the war return?

Living in the Middle East, where any spark can fan the flames, I cannot answer that.

Only time will tell. Enditem

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