Jbah is 40 miles from the border. It has been attacked before. In 1986 Abir’s father was killed here in an air strike. In the 2000 the mountain behind the village was the last place to be occupied before the Israeli withdraw. The faces of the village Martyrs adorn the lampposts along with Hizbollah flags. A sarcastic banner hangs across one bombsite with the words ‘Is this your new Middle East Mr Bush?’ written in French. This time the villagers have been lucky – there have been just seven injuries and one death. The fatality was an engineer from outside the area who was fixing a power line brought down by a bombing when another air strike hit.

I am shown the areas bombed this time round and they are all residential and of little or no strategic importance. We meet Abir’s cousin Sahar who along with her husband is trying to salvage carpets and furniture from the rubble of her home. For five years they had planned and gradually built this house. They had lived in it for just five months before it was destroyed. I am amazed by her resilience. She laughs and jokes with neighbours as her husband picks his way through the devastation. These people are still celebrating their survival and the humiliation suffered by Israel on the ground in the south. This time the village has not been occupied and the casualties have been far lower.

The bombing here seems to have been quite random, with Israeli pilots selecting buildings for target practice and in some cases missing completely. Some of these so-called ‘smart bombs’ have landed in the vegetation that surrounds the houses; others have hit fields and tracks. There is no evidence to suggest that there was any military personal or equipment here. Nowhere do I see any of the scorch marks left in the earth by Quatousha rocket launchers. The only military metal in the wreckage is the casing of the bombs themselves.

Further down, Souheyl Wehbeh shows me around a devastated five-story apartment block. Six holes are in the roof showing where the bombs entered before detonating in the floors below. The ground floor flat of Amine Ghamloush has no less than 3 unexploded bombs in it. The first has slammed into the base of a wall by his kitchen and is buried under a bulge in the floor. The second sticks out of the floor by his washing machine. Finally the third sits in his bathroom under a pile of tiles and masonry, having travelled through all the floors above without detonating. These ‘smart bombs’ are really not very smart at all.

Across the road I am finally shown a non-residential target for Israel’s aggression. The secondary school has a 30-foot wide 15-foot deep crater in its playground. The main building is damaged, but repair work will not begin for some time. A large unexploded bomb lies on the floor under the basins of the changing room.

The fact that I have been shown 4 potentially lethal items within 100 yards makes me wonder what kind of legacy will be left for this area. The bombing here has been light compared to other areas and yet the danger remains long after the ceasefire. Exactly how much unexploded ordinance lies under the ground and rubble is unknown. The only hope is that the villagers and children do not find out the hard way.

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