Jamsheed is Media Correspondent for Islamic Relief Worldwide and is writing a daily blog for us on his Lebanon experiences.DAY 2: MONDAY 31 JULY 2006Sidon is a beautiful city situated on the Lebanese coast. Driving through its streets I notice long queues of traffic outside petrol stations. It reminds me of the time we had our own petrol crisis in the UK a few years ago. I still recall queuing for petrol and cursing the lorry drivers who were refusing to deliver fuel. But there’s no strike here – they simply can’t get petrol into the city.
 | | Displaced children at Iman School |
Despite being the capital of South Lebanon, Sidon (also known as Saida) is like a ghost town. I’m looking around and all the shops are closed. People are scared to venture out into the streets. Although the Israelis have announced a halt to air strikes for 48 hours people still feel it is safer to remain indoors. Village in the hillsI travelled to Tabbayeh, a stunning village high in the mountains just a few kilometres from Sidon. I’m taken aback as I look down from the hills at the beautiful Lebanese coastline. I can see the tide gently gliding itself on to the empty beach. If there was no Israeli bombing I can imagine the beach being full of Lebanese families and tourists enjoying the sun, sea and sand. But there is hardly anyone there. In Tabbayeh we are delivering food parcels and the villagers are pleased to see us. When we arrive they come rushing out and welcome us. Children start running around freely, although most of the time they remain indoors. It seems our arrival has given them the confidence to come out and play.
 | | Jamsheed with displaced children |
We deliver our food parcels and head back down the mountain. I still cannot believe the stunning views, so we stop for a minute and I decide to take a picture. We carry on driving and finally hit the highway to Sidon. Suddenly a Mercedes overtakes us at speed and forces us to pull over at the side. I’m not sure what’s going on but I have a feeling it has something to do with the picture I have just taken. Two men get out of the car. One is dressed in a military uniform and the other in civilian clothing. They seem to be from the Lebanese army. They demand to know why we were taking pictures and who we are. They converse with our driver and take our passports. I begin to think that they are going to take us in for questioning. Their city is being bombed and even taking a simple photo is cause for suspicion. After a few minutes of questioning they let us drive on – we breathe a huge sigh of relief. Iman School
 | | Husseni Mosque |
We head for Iman school where around 200 Lebanese who have escaped from the south are staying. Children are enjoying themselves in the playground. I look at them and realise that despite the bombs and the fear that grips them, children will always love to play. So I join them for a game of football and basketball. I’m out of breath quickly and they put me to shame – but I feel I achieved something by bringing smiles to their faces. I meet 14-year-old Layal and her family. She tells me that when the bombs were falling she was not crying – only praying. I can see strength in her eyes and I admire her bravery. Mattresses arrive at the school and I help unload them. They are thin and made of foam. Back home we might use them occasionally for camping trips or something similar. I don’t know how long people here will be sleeping on them. Feelings of guilt run through me when I think of my nice comfortable bed at home. We leave the school and pass by the Husseini Mosque which was bombed by the Israelis. I stop to take a photo. Suddenly a car races down the road and stops behind us. There are three men inside and one gets out. I have a feeling of déjà vu.
 | | Layal Karim |
They question our driver about why we are taking pictures and who we are from. After a few minutes they leave. I think I know who they are. In the car our driver confirms – “It was Hezbollah.” | 
