Beirut family struggles with war's legacy

"We don't hate the American people; we love them, they are good people," says Yatim. "If Bush wants to be a hero, instead of sending smart bombs, he should send aid to the people – he would be much loved."

"The continuation of this war killed our children," says grandmother Amro, sitting on a brick beside the grave. The family of three had stayed safely with the rest of the extended family outside Beirut, for the first 24 days of the war. They went back to visit friends against the wishes of the grandparents, worried about Maya, who was pregnant.

On that day, the family was killed. Israeli aircraft had dropped warning flyers on other south Beirut suburbs they attacked, mostly Hizbullah strongholds, but none fluttered on to the mixed Shiyyah district.

"Send a Santa Claus to our kids, with toys, and children will say: 'America is beautiful,'" says Yatim. "The damage here is to the young generation, and their belief. They have seen what America has done to their country, to their people, and automatically they become opposition. How can they love America?"

Yatim argues that Israel's most important patron bears most responsibility. "Those bombs, where do they come from? You can't convince me Israel made those bombs," he says. "Rice, Bush.... Everyone knows this comes from America."

And he has more to say: "If you want to fight the terrorists, fight them in the battlefield. In this building, there were no Hizbullah. Fighting should be between soldier and soldier; we understand that."

Other Lebanese sources suggest, however, that the targeted building was struck because in fact a Hizbullah commander was there at the time.

In Israel, several thousand Hizbullah rockets killed 39 Israeli citizens, and 120 Israeli soldiers died. And in Lebanon, Hizbullah has acknowledged 250 dead fighters. The Israeli bombardment killed 1,183 people, according to a UN count, one-third of them children.

"I saw Riham," Yatim told his wife last August, when she arrived at the scene of the attack. "She looked the same, nothing changed. She's an angel."

The good memories have not dimmed for this family. "Like in your country, you are a father, your wife is a mother – you always have a joy when you see children around you," Yatim explains today.

"Every week, my daughter comes, and brings these angels to me – Riham, and the unborn baby," says Yatim, holding a small Koran, gold-embossed and bound in blue leather. "They took the joy of life from me. I wish ... that I could give my life for them. They were young.

"Our dreams in this country..." his voice trails off.

"Any human being who believes in his book, Muslim, Christian, or Jew – who believes in God – knows [these deaths] are destiny," posits Yatim, his thumb holding his place in the Koran. "That's what I learned. God gave, and God took away."

"God is great," affirms Amro.

"We learned also to get more involved in the liberation of our country," adds Yatim. "And to create bigger hatred for those who are against us."

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