Mark Snelling visited Lebanon for the British Red Cross, and wrote about his impressions.

Day 1

The last time I saw rubble like this was the Java earthquake in Indonesia. The same twisted metal, the same pulverised concrete. But this is not a natural disaster. It is the work of men and machines, just one more community devoured by the omnivorous appetites of armed conflict.

This is Maroun El Ras in southern Lebanon's Tyre district, some five kilometres north of the border. When the Israeli army first crossed the frontier to engage Hezbollah forces on July 12, Maroun Ras saw some of the most savage fighting.

"No one was expecting a war to start like that," says Sikna Fares. A widow in her seventies who normally lives alone, Sikna fled to a relative's house in the village when the fighting broke out, and found herself trapped for almost two weeks.

"We could see fire everywhere across the hills, there was constant shelling, we didn't know if we would survive. We were very scared," she says. She eventually fled to the city of Sidon just south of Beirut until the ceasefire on August 14. Like most residents of southern Lebanon, she went home almost immediately. But like thousands of others, she has returned to find almost nothing left.

"Everybody is homeless now," she says. The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), working in support of the Lebanese Red Cross Society, gave out emergency food, hygiene products and kitchen equipment to some 250 families in Maroun El Ras, as part of its work around the country.

Sikna and others who belong to particularly vulnerable groups will be the focus of a second phase of assistance. Aside from food distributions, fuel for the upcoming winter will be a priority.

The challenges are awesome in the literal sense, given the extent of the devastation here. During the 34 days of fighting, some 250 bridges were destroyed and 650 kilometres of road were rendered unusable. According to the Lebanese Ministry of Civil Affairs, 35 percent of those killed or injured were under 12 years old.

And the dangers have not passed. Having thanked Sikna for her time, I step off the road to take a photo of the village. A local man shouts something I don't understand and points in warning at the rubble-strewn dirt ahead of me. The dull grey plastic orb is difficult to spot at first. But there it is, about the size of a softball. If I had been a child, I would have thought it was a toy.

It's not, it's a bomblet, one of at least 1.2 million dispersed from cluster munitions launched in the closing days of the conflict. If I had kicked it, I would have no legs now. At least 100 people have been killed or injured by bomblets since the end of the war. Many of the poorest families, who are reliant on farming tobacco and olives, will not be able to harvest this year. Unexploded ordinance has made it just too dangerous to tend their plots.

To read Mark's Day 1 blog click here

To read Mark's Day 2 blog click here

To read Mark's Day 3 blog click here