The Cedar trees of Lebanon are weeping

In 1998 I stood in the cemetery in Qana in the south of Lebanon. It was a small quiet graveyard, and pretty unremarkable, except for the fact it marked the deaths of over 100 civilians who should have been protected by the fact that they were in a UN compound. Israel states it was an accident, but I still wondered how they accidentally targeted a UN area. In 1998 and now again in 2006. Blood upon blood.

I was spending a couple of weeks touring Lebanon - a country that turned out to be one of the most beautiful that I have visited. It was spring time, and the orange trees were budding across the plains. In other parts the olive trees filled the landscape with greenery, hinting at the fertility of the land.

The hospitality of the Lebanese was remarkable, and we were taken into people's homes. Some were beautiful, some basic, but they all shared one thing in common - all of the families had lost someone to the conflict with Israel. One woman recounted how she spent her weekends ferrying the injured from the South to Beirut in make-shift ambulances.

I travelled down the coast, stopping at Sidon and Tyre. As a Muslim brought up with a Christian education, the places had multiple layers of meaning for me, referencing both the Biblical and the Islamic.

I stood in the UN World heritage site amongst the ruins at Tyre. The poverty of the restoration, and the fact that you could wander in and pick up valuable artefacts, or even destroy them was eerily reflective of the way that Lebanon was being treated.

I stood facing the sea and the guide pointed to the curving shore in the distance. "That's where the Israelis used to bomb us from" he told me sadly. "I lost my brother."

Further north were the booming tourist towns along the coast, and up into the Qadisha valley I saw some beautiful mountains and fresh clear streams, and the famous Cedars of Lebanon mentioned in the Bible. The loss of the innocent people of its land that they watch day after day would be enough to wither away the sturdiest of trees. But whilst they stand firm, their hearts must be torn to pieces.

Beirut was in many ways a different world. Martyrs' Square was decorated with statues and pieces of art to commemorate those lost in the civil war. We drove along the famous green line which had separated the two sides of Beirut, and the houses were ravaged with holes from the firing. But surprisingly, there were signs of regeneration going on. The streets were bustling, and there was a sense of moving towards restoring Lebanon to its heyday.

The Israelis have stated in that they wish to put back Lebanon twenty years. That is a bare-faced crime.