TEHRAN — The procession moved with solemn purpose through streets that barely resembled a city. Flanked by mounds of pulverized concrete and snarled metal, the crowd chanted and beat their chests.

Their voices rose in a collective lamentation, only to be answered moments later by the dull, menacing thud of Israeli artillery in the nearby foothills.

“This is the tragedy of Karbala, O Imam Hussein (AS), look. This is the tragedy of Karbala,” the faithful cried out, marking the opening scene of Ashura in Nabatieh, as documented by on-the-ground reporting from The Guardian.

In times of peace, this commemoration in southern Lebanon is a proud display of devotion, drawing tens of thousands of worshippers to mourn the seventh-century martyrdom of Imam Hussein (AS).

For Shia Muslims and many others, it remains the ultimate symbol of standing firm against oppression. This year, the silence hanging over the leveled city was heavier than the chants of the roughly 200 mourners who marched.

Nabatieh sustained some of the heaviest casualties during the recent Israeli onslaught following the U.S.-Israeli war on Iran and the Resistance Front, forcing almost all of its 80,000 residents into displacement.

The broader conflict has devastated the region. According to figures published by the Lebanese Health Ministry, the aggression killed at least 3,980 people in Lebanon, including at least 247 children and 363 women, leaving more than a million displaced.

Living Karbala in the ruins

For these residents, the ancient story of tyranny and sacrifice is not confined to history. It is a daily reality lived under the shadow of Israeli warplanes.

Martyr posters now blanket the shattered avenues. At a roundabout near the village of Harouf, a massive three-meter banner bears the faces of 50 young Hezbollah fighters who gave their lives defending that single town.

“This year Ashura has a special meaning to us,” said the 50-year-old attendee Ismail Yaghi, according to The National.

His eyes traced the faces of the fallen printed on the shirts of mourners.

“We have lived the battle of Karbala every day during this war. There is sadness in our hearts and a pride at the same time for our martyrs. But we believe that just because someone died, it doesn’t mean that their life has ended. Their eternal life has just begun.”

A ceasefire in name only

A fragile truce announced earlier in the week, brokered through a memorandum of understanding (MoU) between Iran and the U.S., paused an Israeli ground advance that threatened to consume the entire city.

Yet, for the people of the south, this ceasefire has proven to be an illusion. Despite the agreement, occupying troops remain entrenched just beyond the Ali Taher hill, routinely violating the truce.

When returning families attempted to navigate the roads, Israeli forces fired upon them.

On Friday, the violence spiked again. After Hezbollah fighters successfully neutralized at least four Israeli soldiers in defense of their territory, the occupying military unleashed a wave of retaliatory airstrikes on Nabatieh, killing at least 30 people and wounding dozens.

The Lebanese resistance was quick to clarify the situation. According to a statement issued by the Islamic Resistance Operations Room, Hezbollah declared that “the enemy has never adhered to any ceasefire agreement since November 27, 2024, through April 16, 2026, culminating in the outcomes of the recent Iranian-American understanding.”

The statement cited ongoing violations, including the continued destruction of civilian infrastructure and attempts to seize more Lebanese territory.

Clearing the path for an agonizing return

Despite the looming threat, the push to reclaim their homeland remains absolute. Civil defense crews, who spent months pulling bodies from the rubble, shifted their focus to preparing the city for Ashura.

Volunteers from the Nabatieh ambulance service set aside their medical kits to clear debris from the central mosque, draping black banners over the gaping holes left by airstrikes.

“Usually we take the entire month to prepare for Ashura. This time we just had two days,” Mehdi Sadek, the 45-year-old head of the ambulance service, explained to The Guardian.

He paused from stirring a large pot of food as the building rattled from nearby shelling. “We expected things to be better than they are now. We wanted a real ceasefire. We decided to do Ashura in Nabatieh because we wanted to create a reason for people to come back.”

The return is agonizingly slow. While a few men gathered for the ceremony, an Israeli surveillance drone circled high above, a mechanical eye watching their grief.

Down below, the rescue operations continued. Hussein Fakih, the regional civil defense chief, perfectly embodied the immense personal sacrifice of the Lebanese people.

Speaking to The Guardian, he noted that the situation was even harder now, given the lack of clarity surrounding the truce.

Interrupted by a phone call during the interview, Fakih returned with tear-filled eyes. “You will have to excuse me,” he said quietly. “I just got word from our daughter that our house was destroyed by the Israelis.”

Through the dust and the profound loss, the people of Nabatieh refuse to surrender. Their presence in the ruined streets is a profound declaration that while they will bury their dead, they will never abandon their land.