The last time I visited my jeddo’s village in the South was a year ago. The flowers were blooming and the sun was burning my shoulders. 

My jeddo, who passed 5 years ago, was originally from Insarieh, Lebanon, born and raised in a tiny home that has now grown to become a bigger house that still houses many of his direct family members. It is a special village, not particularly impressive or grand, but it is a place that meant so much to him.

As an Ethiopian-Lebanese, I’ve always felt confused about my identity and questioned my sense of belonging in Lebanon. But on that visit to my jeddo’s village, I felt the power of my Lebanese roots. 

More specifically, my connection to the brave and beautiful South of Lebanon that as we all know, has been under brutal Israeli aggression since October 8th. 

These photographs were taken on a Canon A-1 film camera my jeddo got for my mother in the early 80s, which was passed on to me by my mother. Forty years later, on my first time shooting with the camera, I took these wonderful shots of his family home in Insarieh, my teta at a restaurant in Saida, a fisherman in Saida, and a family enjoying a Sunday out together in Saida. 

It is a bittersweet feeling looking at these photographs, because little did I know on that day that it would be the last time I visited my grandfather’s village for a while. 

But I know I’ll be back soon, chasing that peaceful summer day in the South, with the sun burning my skin.