We are led through the graveyard in the town of Jibsheit by Sheikh Ahmed Obeid , who softly reads out the names of each Hizbollah martyr's grave. There are 73 Hizbollah martyrs in this graveyard, a testimony to the town's commitment to the cause of the resistance.

Sheikh Ragheb Harb, widely acknowledged as one of the founding fathers of Hizbollah, was a mosque prayer leader in Jibsheit. His refusal to collaborate with the Israelis lead to his assassination by Israeli agents in 1985. The 32-year old Harb was slain in the street, barely a hundred yards from his home, as he returned from an evening of chatting and drinking tea with his neighbors. Harb's death is widely regarded to have been the spark that launched the guerrilla resistance movement.

Walking down the street of the town of Jibsheit, a car passes us. The rear window is covered by a sign in English - No Fear.

"No Fear" - it is a brand name in America, a marketing stunt that attracted thousands of teens. The real meaning of the phrase can be observed in South Lebanon, where fearless Hizbollah guerrillas continue to expose themselves to Israeli ire.

Mustapha, two years and two months old, toddles over to a pile of stone and tries to throw one across the border fence as his adoring mother looks on. All around him, girls and boys, men and women, are picking up fistfuls of stones and hurling them at the Israeli observation post at the Fatima gate in Kifar Kila.

The ritual of this stone throwing has become a national obsession. Every day hundreds of Lebanese travel south to the gate and throw stones at the concrete tower to let the Israeli soldiers inside know that they are not welcome in Lebanon, ever.

"Come back, come back, come back," taunts a teen decked in Nike basketball gear, clapping his hands as a group of Israelis across the fence duck and scurry to the safety of a concrete compound just beyond the tower. A scruffy man with a flowing black beard continues to pelt them with pebbles from a rubber sling, like some bizarre David against the concrete Goliath of the IDF post.

"Go say 'Hello Barak'," yells the teen. An Israeli soldier with a flak jacket and a rifle rushes up the steps to the tower and we fall back, afraid that he will open fire, remembering that unarmed Jordanian tourists were gunned down at this very spot by the Israelis just a few weeks back. The teen and his stone throwing "civilian" friend stick to their ground, daring the soldier. No fear.

"Do you speak English? What is your name?" we yell out to the two Israeli soldiers hiding in their machine gun post about a hundred yards up the road from the Fatima gate. They hesitate to answer. 

"My name is Mike, I'm American," yells out one of our group members.
"You are American?" replies the Israeli soldier, "What are you doing there?"

"What are you doing there?" A valid Israeli concern. Why are American students in South Lebanon, listening to the Lebanese, hearing out their side of the story? Where is the blind support that kept Americans quiet while the U.S. government fed and armed Israel for the last twenty years of their occupation of Lebanon?

"What are you doing there?"
"We are students. Can you tell us anything about the Jordanians who were shot here?" replies Mike. The Israeli soldier shakes his head and walks back into his post.

"I am waiting for word from our leader, Sayyed Nasrallah," says Ahmed Yahya, a former detainee of the Khiam prison. "Insah Allah, you will see me soon on the other side, when we will recover all of our land," he adds as he points across the barbed wire fences into the Israeli side of the border, sweeping his hand across what constitutes the disputed Chebaa farms region in southeast Lebanon.

Yahya is a tall, lean Hizbollah fighter. He has just spent two hours walking us through the Khiam prison, where the Israeli funded South Lebanon Army militia brought residents of the Israeli occupied areas of South Lebanon and tortured them. Yahya spent nine years in this prison, but says he promptly returned to his duties as a guerrilla on release in 1996.

The stories that come out of Khiam are dark, sinking into the very depths of the evil that one man can be capable of inflicting on another. These stories were reported off and on for the last 22 years of Israeli occupation in South Lebanon, printed in the Lebanese media and read by a largely hapless Lebanese community in Beirut.

Last month, the Hizbollah managed to drive the Israeli forces and their SLA militia out of Lebanon and liberated the Khiam prison. Now one can stand here, in the four-foot wide prison cells, with their low ceilings and iron doors. One can volunteer to spend a little time inside, hear the clank of the metal bolt, smell the stench of urine and sweat that still fills the dirty blanket on the floor, and feel the horror that creeps in when the darkness comes.

Our experience is short lived. A few seconds later the Hizbollah guide opens the door and lets us out into light, fresh air and freedom.

It is difficult to come to terms with the horror that must have cut through the hearts of the men and women when they were brought, beaten and bleeding, with broken bones, bleeding through excrement soaked wounds and third degree burns, and dumped into these holes for days, months, even years at end. Taken out only for the repeated beatings, never seeing light, head always covered by a bag soaked in excrement or vomit.

Nevertheless, the inmates of this prison refused to cooperate. Of the hundreds that went through this prison, 18 died in captivity. The ones who survived are now the heroes of the liberation who, through the bravery of their silence, protected the struggle that meant more to them than their own life or comfort.

"They would drag someone's wife in here," recalls Yahya, "They would strip her to her waist and drag her by the hair in front of her husband and tell him to provide information or watch her being raped. I can not tell you the kind of things they did to women in this room."

For 22 years Khiam operated beyond checks or balances. Prison guards were free to perpetuate pain and suffering. The Israeli officers seldom hit an inmate, explains Yahya, they preferred to hand them over "to the dogs" ÷ the SLA militia ÷ who would then administer electric shocks and beatings on Israeli direction.

"What are you doing there?" 
Why are American students walking through the filth and fear of Khiam?

"Would you be prepared to spend a day in this cell?" asks Yahya.
"Not one day, not even two minutes," replies one student, "How did you manage to survive here for nine years?"

A smile spreads across Yahya's face. Finally someone is listening to his story. He is making up for nine years of silence.

In July 2000, Hizbollah leader Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah visited Iran, leading to much speculation in Beirut over whether Iran was laying down new ground rules in the conflict in South Lebanon. Most observers expect Iran to hold Hizbollah back, eager not to jeopardize improving relations with the West in the face of, what is touted to be, an imminent and historic Middle East peace accord. Hizbollah is expected to comply.

But the Hizbollah guerillas, the fighters who suffered in the torture chambers, in prisons in Lebanon and Israel, know that they can not let their guard down.

"We can not trust Israel," admits Inaas Harb, the widow of Hizbollah leader Ragheb Harb. "We have given them a fitting beating, and now they know we can offer them pain for pain, bombing for bombing. They will not even dream of coming back. But we can not trust them. Never."

Inaas was 27 years old when her husband, a mosque prayer leader, was gunned down by Israeli assassins. Harb's three-year-old grandson Khodar picks up a metal bar and chases us up the front yard of the house in a mock assault. His brother, five-year-old Ahmed, looks on silently.

"Ahmed used to watch the Hizbollah operations on television," offers Inaas, "He would go to the backyard and charge up a little hill and plant Hizbollah flags on it, imitating the guerrillas."

Sheikh Ahmed Obeid, 32, walks down his hometown streets in Jibsheit quietly, offering a smile and a wave of a hand to his neighbors as they drive by. Obeid returned home five months back, after spending eleven years in an Israeli prison.

He was kidnapped by Israeli commandos at 2 a.m. on 27 July 1989, along with his cousin Sheikh Abdel Karim Obeid, who was, at that time, the leader of Hizbollah's operations in South Lebanon. Abdel Karim Obeid remains in the Israeli Sarafan prison. Ahmed describes his stay in Sarafan as "worse than Khiam," speaking in a soft voice.

Ever ready to break into a warm smile, Ahmed Obeid watches as children throw rocks at the Israeli post at Fatima gate. He walks with his head bowed, seemingly deep in thought, along the street where liberation posters dot the walls. He does not throw any rocks at the Israelis. Inside Khiam, Obeid silently walks away from us as Yahya vividly describes the torture techniques practiced on the inmates: burning with cigarettes, being thrown onto broken glass, being pushed down a flight of stairs, being kicked in the mouth, having ribs cracked by clubs, and being slowly drowned in a tank full of excrement.

His enemy is gone from his neighborhood, but Obeid has returned home to find the enemy standing a few feet away, across a fence, a border that Lebanon continues to refuse to recognize as legitimate. As with the many Hizbollah members we have talked to, Obeid shows extreme restrain when referring to the Israelis living across the fence and affirms that he will accept any decision handed down to him by Secretary General Sayyed Nasrallah.

Even if the decision is to forget the enemy that has caused him so much pain and suffering. But should the orders be reversed, should they be told to advance into Chebaa farms, or climb over the border fences, the men of the Hizbollah say they are ready to march on. Fearless.

As the recently concluded elections in Lebanon have proved, the Hizbollah continue to enjoy a degree of political power and acceptance within the Lebanese community. Their real political strength can not be measured as their participation in the ballot is limited by the Syrian influence on Lebanese politics which has, so far, sought to balance the Hizbollah's role in Shia politics in Lebanon with that of the Amal movement.

The degree of restraint shown by the Hizbollah reflects the discipline within the organization. In the days after the liberation of the South, Hizbollah guerrillas and volunteers, many of whom had been tortured by the SLA in Khiam, refused to exact personal vendettas from the captured SLA soldiers. Similarly, in July 2000, when two unarmed Hizbollah volunteers putting up election posters were gunned down by Amal men in the town of Markaba, the Hizbollah leadership quickly explained the incident away as a misunderstanding and ordered its cadre to do nothing to upset the delicate arrangements made between the Amal and Hizbollah for the upcoming elections.

With its hands tied behind its back, the Hizbollah's spirit of martyrdom has kept the movement alive through times in which many others would have become easily demoralized and deteriorated into shambles. The most obvious question is what happens when Hizbollah's hands are untied? When the Syrians leave Lebanon and no one is left to restrain Hizbollah, will they tear the Amal apart in a civil war among the Shia? It should be noted here that Hizbollah and Amal members have often come to blows, and coexist in an uneasy truce that is enforced by the Syrian army.

The year 2000 has shown that the Hizbollah is a pragmatic and well disciplined organization that can withstand both, the pain of suffering and the temptation of revenge. While the political future of the Syrian presence in Lebanon and the larger geopolitical role of Iran in the Middle East will certainly have a bearing on the decisions made by the Hizbollah, the organization has proved over the last few months that is has a national vision that accounts for the larger Lebanese interest, and also a regional vision that understands the frailty of the Middle eastern equation.

It remains to be seen if Hizbollah will be brought into the mainstream of the next government if one is sworn in under the leadership of Rafik Hariri. In the elections this year, the Hizbollah proved its political maturity and flexibility by creating a working coalition, or lists of candidates, which combined the interests of the Hariri brigade and also those of Amal and the Druze PSP (Progressive Socialist Party). If the Hizbollah is offered, and accepts, positions in government ministries it will have an opportunity to exhibit its potential as a responsible and honest political force in government. 

Ultimately, this year will mark the highest point in the history of the Hizbollah - The first time an Arab armed group forced the Israeli army to withdraw out of its territories. That in itself is an accomplishment that the cadre of the Hizbollah will cherish for years to come. The challenge herewith will be to resist the traps laid out by Hizbollah-baiters in the West and not fall back into the mould of the "terrorist organization" by reverting to supporting terrorism in other countries. In the near future the greatest challenge along these lines will be to offer support to the Palestinian cause without becoming directly attached to the violence associated with militant Islamist groups such as the Hamas or the Islamic Brotherhood. The Hizbollah will have to master the art of diplomacy and build relationships with other countries in the West and the East who share its compassionate view of a national identity and complete sovereignty for the people of Lebanon and the people of Palestine.

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  Robert Fisk, "Lebanon on brink of war with Israel," The Independent, 9 February 2000
  Robert Fisk, "Death comes calling again on a Crusader castle," The Independent, 12 February 2000
  Robert Fisk, "US heaps blame on the victim, say Lebanese," The Independent, 11 February 2000

  Robert Fisk, "After 22 Years, Israel Begins Its Departure From Lebanon," The Independent, May 3, 2000.

  Robert Fisk, "Israel redirects Hellfire missiles 'after US advice'," The Independent, May 6, 2000.
  Robert Fisk, "Israel fires barrage of threats on eve of pull-out," The Independent, May 10, 2000.
  Robert Fisk, "No mercy for Israel's allies in South Lebanon," The Independent, May 17, 2000.

  From an interview with UNIFIL officers in South Lebanon who witnessed the evacuation of SLA officers in May 2000. The UNIFIL officers had knowledge of the identity of GSS agents, and claimed that they were the first to leave the occupied areas and escape into Israel.

  Robert Fisk, "In the end, they just skulked away," The Independent, May 23, 2000.
  
From a personal interview with Hizbollah volunteers and prisoners who were present in or around the Khiam prison and Khiam village during the liberation.

  While SLA troops were given possession of some T-55 and T-72 Soviet tanks captured from the Syrians, the Israeli Merkava tank was operated only by the IDF troops.

  Robert Fisk, "Chaos, humiliation, bloodshed: after 22 years Israel withdraws from Lebanon," The Independent, May 24, 2000.
  Robert Fisk, "The holy warriors of Hizbollah realize their impossible dream," The Independent, May 25, 2000.
  Robert Fisk, "The holy warriors of Hizbollah realize their impossible dream," The Independent, May 25, 2000.

  From a personal interview with Spokesperson Timur Goksel at the UNIFIL Headquarters in Naqoura, South Lebanon, July 2000.

  From a personal interview with Robert Fisk in Beirut, June 2000.
  From a personal interview with a UNIFIL officer in C Coy HQ in Chebaa, July 2000.

  From personal interviews with the Hizbollah press attaché in Beirut, June 2000.

  Syrian President Hafez Assad died of a prolonged illness soon after the Israeli withdrawal from Lebanon, on June 11, 2000. He did not live to see the fulfillment of his life-long dream to liberate all of Syrian territory from the Israeli occupation -  a steadfast demand that had won him much praise and adoration among the Arab community. Hafezâs son Bashar had been groomed for the past few years for succession to the position of President of Syria, a grooming that had included a stint in independently handling the political situation in Lebanon. In fact, the blueprint of the year 2000 parliamentary elections in Lebanon, which included the redrawing of many new alliances and seat sharing, were reported to have been drawn up by Bashar himself. While Basharâs candidacy for the Presidency was very strong, it was feared than any reversal of fortunes in terms of the crises with Israel would seal his failure by giving his detractors an issue to chase him out of office with. With this in mind, both the Lebanese government and the Hizbollah became especially cautious of their actions in relation to Israel, as they realized that the immediate danger of destabilizing Syria was far worse than suffering Israeli slights for a few months. 

  From a personal interview with Hizbollah members in Beirut, June 2000

  From a personal interview with Dr. Nizar Hemzeh at the American University of Beirut, June 2000.

  From a visit to the INDBATT area of operations in South Lebanon July 2000.
  From a personal interview with Dr. Mohammad Harb in the village of Taibe South Lebanon, July 2000.

  A first-hand account of observations made in South Lebanon in June-July 2000.
  Sheikh Ahmed Obeid is the cousin of the Hizbollah leader Abdel Karim Obeid, who continues to be held without trial in an Israeli prison.