Jabal Amel’s Defiance, From Adham Khanjar to Hassan Hussein
Until 1948, the economy of Jabal Amel was tightly bound to Palestine. In the collection "Pages from the History of Jabal Amel," Lebanese historian Suleiman Takieddine remarked that “Southerners knew Haifa better than they knew Beirut.”
In 1920, under the French Mandate, Jabal Amel was incorporated into Greater Lebanon and its population grew increasingly intertwined with the anti-colonial political struggles of the wider region. In 1921, Adham Khanjar, a revolutionary from Jabal Amel and one of the region’s first rebels against French colonial rule, tried to assassinate French High Commissioner Henri Gouraud.
During the 1936 revolution in Palestine, the southern border villages of Jabal Amel were fortresses of support for Palestinian revolutionaries, providing them with weapons, ammunition, supplies, and manpower. This solidarity continued into the following decade and during the Nakba in 1948 war when Jabal Amel formed a crucial site for Arab armies and volunteers to fight the Zionist occupation.
When the Arab Rescue Army arrived in Houla — the town in Jabal Amel whose story this visual essay addresses — many local villagers quickly recognized the expansionist nature of Zionist colonialism. They joined the resistance, digging tunnels and trenches on al-Ababeed Hill to entrap the occupying forces. The resulting ambush killed 37 Zionist soldiers. On October 31, 1948, the Haganah, a terrorist paramilitary group, retaliated by massacring an estimated 70 men in Houla. The exact number of martyrs remains unknown.
The occupation of Palestine severed the ties between Palestine and Jabal Amel. Like other governorates, Jabal Amel became economically dependent on Beirut, shifting away from the historic centers of trade in Palestine and integrating into new local and global capitalist markets.
The people of Houla longed for the story of their struggle against Zionism to be preserved in history books and taught in schools. But it remains officially undocumented. These early massacres left an indelible mark on the people, shaping future generations. As the prominent intellectual Hani Fahs put it: “The child of Amel does not play… and behind the dark grief in his eyes are depths of rage.”
In Houla, the scars of colonial violence run deep. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, periodic Israeli bombings and attacks rendered normal life, including consistent education, nearly impossible. Locals recall how schoolchildren were often unable to complete their studies without interruption, as families were forced to flee to nearby safe areas. When they left, they would leave their house keys hanging outside, so resistance fighters could use their homes as needed.
In the late 1970s, the occupation of southern Lebanon further intensified the struggle. After the South Lebanon Army started enforcing the Israeli occupation of the South, many residents were imprisoned and tortured by the Lebanese militia in the infamous Khiam Prison. Houla locals, many of whom trained and fought with the Palestinian resistance, made up a significant number of the detainees.
Today, the bond between Jabal Amel and Palestine endures. It represents a shared and unfaltering resistance to Zionist expansionism and Western imperialism.
Since October 2023, the Israeli occupation army has relentlessly targeted Houla. Yet, until the war drastically intensified on the Lebanese front, Houla remained one of the most densely populated villages along the Blue Line.
On the evening of March 5, 2024, the Israeli army bombed a house in Houla. It belonged to a farmer and shepherd named Hassan Ali Qassem Hussein. Hassan, his wife Ruwayda Mustafa, and their son Ali were all martyred in the attack.
Hassan worked at the village cemetery and knew every grave by heart; just two days prior, he had buried a neighbor. In a video that went viral, Hassan smiled warmly and reassured his people: “Whatever happens, happens… We are with the resistance, we will remain on the frontline, and we’ve accepted our fate! Peace be upon you.”
The Hussein family, like many residents, chose to stay in their homes despite the escalating violence. Resistance fighters would occasionally visit Houla to check up on its residents.
Hassan Hussein was also a Hezbollah resistance fighter or a mujahid. Several reports, unconfirmed by the party, suggest that he was the commander of armaments and supplies in Hezbollah’s elite Radwan Force. He instilled a spirit of resistance in his son, Ali, born in 1999, one year before Houla’s liberation from Israeli occupation. As the age-old Arab proverb goes: “Every man's name is his fortune.” Ali chose the jihadi name “Ali Akbar,” in honor of Imam Hussein’s eldest son, Ali al-Akbar, who was martyred alongside his father during the Battle of Karbala.
The people of Houla, like those throughout Jabal Amel and the Bekaa, continue to shoulder the immense burden of resisting the Zionist colonial occupation on behalf of the entire nation. Takieddine and his co-authors — notable Lebanese historians themselves — published "Pages from the History of Jabal Amel" in 1979, after the Israeli invasion of southern Lebanon. Takieddine concludes the text with the reflection that “We tend to deal with the South as enduring a perpetual Ashura, but as Pushkin says: ‘The same hammer that shatters glass forges steel.’ The burden the South bears today is the unparalleled cost of sustaining a heightened state of organization and struggle against Israel and imperialism.”
A few months later, in June, airstrikes martyred the Qassem brothers, Mohammad and Ali, and destroyed the town’s supply store. Many families evacuated.
Today, Houla is practically a ghost town. Nearly one million people from the South, the Bekaa region, and Beirut’s southern suburbs were forcibly displaced. During brief, undeclared truces between Hezbollah fighters and the Zionist army over the past year, displaced villagers have returned to attend funerals of the martyrs and inspect their homes in the South.
At a tribute ceremony for the Hussein family, attendees pledged to continue on the path of resistance and loudly denounced America and its colony. The Public Source captured this solemn farewell through the lens of Fatima Joumaa, a photographer and filmmaker from southern Lebanon. She has been documenting the funerals of martyrs in Beirut and the South since October 2023.
On the way to Houla, a resilient shepherd tending his flock near the village of Sawaneh welcomes visitors attending the funeral. Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
The first thing that catches the eye are the faces of those who have left us, known to us now only as souls. A child draped in a Hezbollah scarf carries a flyer honoring the martyred Hussein family — Hassan Hussein (right), his wife Ruwayda Mustafa Hussein (center), and their son Ali Hussein (left) — during the funeral procession. Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
Zeinab Ali Hussein, Hassan’s sister, improvises a mawwal. Her voice heavy with grief, she sings: “Oh, Oh, Oh… Oh Ali! Oh Ruwayda! A thousand cries, by God, would not be enough! May God’s name be upon you! May God protect you, and blind the eyes of the envious!” Then, she leads the women around her in ululation. Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
Grieving women, as part of the funeral procession, navigate the narrow streets of the village. In the southern border towns, the coffins of the martyrs allow displaced villagers to momentarily return home. Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
“Family Portrait”: Relatives gather beneath the watchful gaze of a martyr as the funeral procession passes by. Ahmad Hassan Mustafa, known as the “Angel of Houla,” is honored in the photo hanging on the wall behind them. He was martyred along with his comrades: Abbas Mohammad Raad (known as “Siraj”), Khalil Jawad Shahimi (also known as “Siraj”), Mohammad Hassan Ahmad Shreih (called “Karbala”), and Bassam Ali Kanjo (known as “Abu Hussein Thaer”). An Israeli airstrike targeted a house in Beit Yahoun, killing them, on November 23, 2023. Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
The displaced have returned, even if only for a few hours, to attend a funeral. They visit their homes, and though some have been reduced to rubble, they find a quiet solace in returning — a rare experience, even in times of “peace.” They check on neighbors and families who remain steadfast, who still hang pictures of martyrs on the village walls. With fists raised high, grieving women march past the Israeli military outpost of al-Abbad, directly opposite Houla, denouncing America and Israel. Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
Hajjeh Nasra’s eyes are fixed on the horizon as she sings her mawwal, her voice quivering with emotion: “Oh, raven of doom, what do you have against me? You have taken those dearest and most precious to me! Oh, heartless one, go easy on me.” Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
Amal, pictured above, was the photographer’s guide in the funeral, from the first frame that was taken to the final farewell of the martyr; she led the photographer through the town’s hidden alleys and homes, speaking to a wider audience through the camera. She pointed out, “Here is the Al-Abbad military site, and here is the martyrs’ home…” Amal apologizes for speaking on behalf of Hezbollah Secretary-General Hassan Nasrallah before reciting her grandfather’s mawwal, in which she warns and threatens anyone who has normalized relations with Netanyahu: “Black be your day, for the tigers are among us! For as long as your wolves attack, no tiger will fear more wolves.” With unwavering resolve, she declares, “We shall follow the path of resistance, even when we are in pieces.” Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
A few surviving pages of a book lay scattered amidst the rubble, bearing the title: “How Do I Come to Know My Religion?” Beneath the title, a verse from the Quranic Surah “The Troops” stands out against the backdrop of the destruction: “Say: ‘Are those who know and those who do not know equal?’ It is those who are endowed with understanding that receive admonition.” Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
As the funeral procession approaches the martyred Hussein family’s home, Esraa, the sister and the daughter of the family, overwhelmed with grief, leans on her husband, but ultimately finds solace only in her faith. With a trembling voice, she laments: “We have become rich, we are among the martyrs’ families! Oh Hussein, my family is gone! I am the daughter of a martyr, and the sister of a martyr, and my mother is a martyr, and I am honored before God. Oh mother, you left before me!” She clings to all that remains of her past in the ruins of her home: her father’s jacket and her brother’s shirt. In the photograph, Hussein, Esraa’s husband, holds their daughter amid the rubble. Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
Photographed above, to the left, mourners advance, carrying the coffins to their final resting place. Amal reflects, “The martyr who once tended the village cemetery knew the location of every grave. Loved ones would seek him out, asking, ‘Where is my mother’s grave? My brother’s, my father’s?’ And he would guide them.” She adds, “Now the martyr has returned home, to the place he knew best.” Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
Behind this orange tree in Houla, the villages of Wadi Saluki come into view, stretching from the outskirts of Aitaroun to the Hujeir Valley. The Saluki valley has been a hotbed for occupation tanks and a passageway for resistance fighters into the occupied strip since 1982. Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)
Amidst Houla’s cemetery, a young woman stands in the place where nothing ends. As Ghassan Kanafani once wrote: “The flesh has turned to dust, and the dust has become flesh again—nothing ever ends. And who knows? One day, we may carve the wood of a tree nourished by my mother’s flesh into the arm of a rifle reclaiming the land.” Houla, South Lebanon. March 6, 2024. (Fatima Joumaa/The Public Source)