Beirut Museum Exhibit Uses ‘Keys Without Homes’ to Symbolize Lost Southern Lebanese Dwellings

Fatima Hajj Ali, a resident of southern Lebanon, stood before a Beirut museum where dozens of keys dangled from the ceiling like wind chimes, each representing a home—her own included—reduced to rubble by Israeli attacks.

She is one of thousands of southern Lebanese who have lost their homes amid the recent clashes between Israel and Hezbollah—the first erupting in 2023 when Hezbollah fired rockets in solidarity with Hamas, and a second flare‑up in March when the group joined the broader Middle East conflict on Iran’s side.

“We were meant to return home and unlock the door with our key, but there is no door left to open,” the 23‑year‑old told reporters.

Although a cease‑fire understanding between the United States and Iran, signed on June 17, brought a temporary lull, sporadic Israeli strikes and widespread demolitions in the occupied villages persist, preventing many residents from returning home.

Titled “Hkeeli ya Jnoub” (“Tell me, O South”), the exhibition at Beirut’s Beit Beirut museum displays photographs and videos that safeguard the collective memory of southern Lebanon.

As she walked through the galleries, Hajj Ali recalled her home in Nabatieh al‑Fawqa, which she had managed to visit only once following an April truce that ultimately collapsed.

“Half of the house collapsed while the other half remained standing,” she said to AFP.

“I miss watching the sunset and hearing the call to prayer in our garden over a cup of coffee,” the psychologist said, noting that although Beirut offers beautiful spots, none feel like home.

Among the featured works is “Keys Without Homes,” a video installation showing three southern Lebanese who clung to the keys of houses that no longer stand.

The artist, 36‑year‑old Adeeb Farhat, a native of the south, conceived the piece during the 2024 conflict when he feared his own home might be destroyed.

“I kept asking myself what will become of my house—will it be bombed? How will my bond with its key shift? Will we turn into the new Palestinians?” he remarked.

Palestinians have long preserved the keys to homes lost during the Nakba—the Arabic term for “catastrophe”—when roughly 760,000 Palestinians were displaced during the founding of Israel in 1948.

‘What Remains’

Inside the exhibition halls, a bedroom, living room, and kitchen—complete with a glass jug, coffee pot, and spice containers—recreate the everyday life of southern Lebanese households.

The show also features an historic photograph of Tyre’s coastline, a black‑and‑white video of Nabatieh, and notebooks where visitors have recorded their recollections of the south.

In another piece titled “What Remains,” Paris‑based Sama Beydoun, 29, presents photographs of her grandfather’s destroyed home in Bint Jbeil, close to the Israeli border, which she last visited in 2025.

A technical glitch left most of the images blurred, giving them a dream‑like quality, Beydoun explained.

“I recall how many people gathered in that home, how my family grew up within its walls, how generations passed through it, and how life evolved while certain traditions endured—such as the weekly Sunday gatherings,” she said.

“Life was simple, yet beautiful.”

In the photo essay “Manufacturing Estrangements,” Rawan Mazeh, 29, recounts the ordeal of a couple imprisoned in the infamous Khiam Prison—a facility operated by the South Lebanon Army, an Israeli‑backed militia—during Israel’s 22‑year occupation of southern Lebanon, which ended in 2000.

Mazeh said the exhibition “created a welcoming space where visitors could come and feel a connection to their land.”

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