The sun hung heavy and hot in the southern sky that day. It beat down across the countryside without a cloud in sight to stop it. A young shepherd attempting to guide his sheep to safety put up a hand, imploring the cars to give his herd a few minutes to cross the highway.

The land upon which the compound sprawled had been rented out by UNIFIL years ago to host the foreign regiment that continues to patrol the southern border to this day. Years of endless conflict had, conversely, birthed an effort in homemaking, thus grafting a piece of Indonesia into the little Lebanese village.

Due to the disastrous port explosion that claimed the lives of over 200 innocent souls, this week we write in tribute to their memories, to our city, Beirut.

It was everyone’s first summer back since the occupation had ended. After so many years, the home was once again bursting with family, just as their grandparents had intended.