Lebanon Ceasefire: Photojournalist Survives Attack That Killed Colleague

Following a month of intense Israeli airstrikes in Lebanon, a ceasefire took effect in mid-April 2026. The truce allowed residents to return to the south, where entire villages had been destroyed. On 22 April, Zeinab Faraj, a 21-year-old photojournalist, traveled to the area with Amal Khalil, a 42-year-old reporter, to document the damage.

Faraj was completing a degree in radio and television while working as a freelancer. She met Khalil after the older reporter saw her work on social media, and the two had collaborated on previous assignments. Faraj stated that she expected the trip to be routine and felt no fear, noting that the audible gunfire and artillery were typical sounds for a videographer.

As the pair approached the village of al-Tiri, they encountered a vehicle carrying Ali Nabil Bazzi, 27, a municipal official from Bint Jbeil, and Mohammed Hourani, 37, a friend of the mayor. The groups had met earlier at Tebnine governmental hospital, a location considered relatively safe. Bazzi was scheduled to sign a marriage contract that evening but joined the trip anyway.

Faraj did not hear the initial missile impact. She heard Khalil scream and observed the car ahead catch fire. The two women exited their vehicle, and Faraj attempted to pull Bazzi from the wreckage. Khalil insisted the men were dead, and Faraj saw their bodies had been torn apart.

Drones then arrived, flying at low altitudes. Faraj described one coming so close to her face that she covered it, only for it to rise again. The women called emergency services, which repeatedly promised aid. A paramedic advised them to drive up the road because ambulances were blocked. Their car was hit by a missile as they tried to re-enter it, throwing both women backward. Khalil wrapped her arms around Faraj and said she hoped the drone would think they were dead.

They took shelter in a nearby house. Khalil, bleeding from her face, hand, and leg, was unable to move. Faraj sent a final message to her sister before her phone died, reading, "There's no hope left. Forgive me." A drone dropped sharply toward her as she watched the road, and a missile fell with a sound she had never heard before.

Faraj woke trapped under rubble, struggling to breathe. A paramedic who reached the site held her by the shoulders, and she begged him not to leave. A second paramedic cleared the debris, and the team pulled her out as drones returned. Faraj recalled a stun grenade being dropped by a drone around that time. In the ambulance, she mistook the engine for a drone. At the hospital, nurses reassured her about Khalil before going quiet. Khalil is believed to have died about an hour before paramedics were allowed back to the area after rescuing Faraj.

The Israeli military stated it had identified saboteurs violating the ceasefire. Human rights groups labeled the attack a war crime, noting that the military received repeated messages requesting permission for a rescue while the women sheltered. A week earlier, an Israeli military spokesperson had shared a video of Khalil published by her newspaper, labeling it "terrorist media," and Khalil had received death threats from Israeli numbers.

Faraj is now preparing to return to university. She still struggles to walk properly, has a visibly injured hand, and a facial injury affects the movement of one eyebrow. She said, "I was always on the move. I lost that." She wakes at night screaming and remains on edge when she hears drones or warplanes. Faraj is uncertain if she will return to frontline journalism and is haunted by the sight of Hourani on the ground, his eyes open and looking at her.