Residents of Metula defiantly stay put on Israel's frontlines with Hezbollah

METULA, Israel—A group of neighbors sat outside Bela Cafe, sipping coffee and chatting as dusk settled, a normal afternoon scene in this verdant and magical town – including, lately, artillery fire that resounds every few minutes. 

“I don’t even hear it anymore,” said Nadav Shany, gesturing at the rattle of another launch toward southern Lebanon. 

A recent transplant to the community, Shany has no regrets about moving to Metula and no aspirations to leave despite the town’s precarious location. Shany said he sleeps through the explosions.

“I've learned to live with these sounds and this weird new normal,” Shany told ALL ISRAEL NEWS while drinking a cappuccino with his friends. “I visited my parents in Tel Aviv during the war (with Iran) and I didn’t survive two nights there. I’d rather deal with this than to get up two to three times a night to run to shelter. At least here I can sleep through the night.”

With most workplaces and schools closed until the situation stabilizes, Shany’s daily routine consists of enjoying nature, visiting the grocery store and then sitting at Bela Cafe.

The serenity of the residents gathered at the coffee shop is ironic considering Metula itself points like an index finger into southern Lebanon, surrounded on all sides. The Iranian proxy group, Hezbollah, has controlled this area of southern Lebanon for decades.

And while most of Israel is experiencing a reprieve due to a ceasefire after 40 days of war, the north remains under fire. Israel says its fight with Hezbollah does not fall under the auspices of the ceasefire with Iran. 

This is Metula’s second rodeo in recent years. After Hezbollah joined Hamas against Israel in the war that began on Oct. 7, 2023, most of Israel’s northern communities were evacuated to the center of the country, including Metula’s population of 2,200.

Now, those who have finally returned – about half the community – are not budging.

Among them is Miry Menashe, who welcomed a group of journalists to Bela Cafe, which she opened when she moved back to Metula in the fall, despite safety restrictions and defiantly in the face of attacks. 

“I’ll stay open for residents of Metula to come and forget there is a war,” she said. “People are saying, ‘Thank you for keeping us sane.’ Sometimes you need to forget there’s a war outside.”

Indeed, they do. Except when a missile fragment landed 100 meters from the cafe. No one was injured and everyone came back for their coffee, still warm, after the all clear.

When residents left in 2023, Metula was turned into a makeshift military base by the IDF. Not one home was spared some level of damage. If it wasn’t rockets, it was the army, neglect and wild animals that infiltrated the community while they were gone, Menashe said.

“Our lives were stopped once for too long, a very unnecessary stop in my opinion,” she said. “I won’t leave my house again.”

In the north, Israelis have only seconds to get to shelter and sometimes they hear an impact before a siren. But these days, in Metula, most of the explosions come from the Israeli military aiming its fire toward Lebanon.

“Living on the border is never all heaven,” Menashe told reporters. “Like our friends down South (in the Gaza Envelope) used to say, its 95% heaven and 5% hell. Now we live in the 5%, but we are willing to tolerate the 5% for the 95% of heaven that we do have here.”

Nir Avraham moved to Metula in 2023 – just before the first evacuation – and fell in love with the pastoral, peaceful setting. He has no regrets.

“Just the opposite. Its opened a new door for me. I live on my own, I started my studies,” he told ALL ISRAEL NEWS. “The nature here, it lured me.”

When Metula was evacuated in October 2023, Avraham packed a backpack with the optimism that it was only going to be for two weeks. 

“I was living in a hotel in the center of Israel. It was tight, no space – exactly what I hate,” he recalled. 

Like everyone else interviewed during this reporter’s visit to the town, Avraham said he would not leave again.

“You feel the camaraderie in the handful of people here and that’s what keeps you here. Its hard to explain the magic of Metula,” he said. “It’s like a magnet.”

The original stone building with red tiled roofs, overhanging trees and rolling green hills all the way into Lebanon, make for a scenic, charming and vulnerable setting.

Meanwhile, in some sort of war-time oblivion, customers pack the cafe every day. One soldier drank coffee and caught up on emails. Friends chatted. 

For Menashe, it has become the embodiment of Zionism.  

“It is our home and I will do anything to keep it safe. It is Zionism in its purest – to live on the border, to be the human shield, to be the first shield. It’s like a life mission,” she said. 

“We want to live in peace, we want to live in quiet, in prosperity,” she said. “We live in the most beautiful pieces of land that we can find and it’s a shame we don’t have good relations with our neighbors.”

Menashe is one of few parents who returned to Metula with her children – 16-year-old twins and a 13 year old – while others wait out the school year. 

“The expectation is that my grandkids will live here peacefully, to not have another round,” she said. “If you want to analyze the geopolitical state that you have now, the Lebanese government and people want change. Here we want change. And we have the support of the entire world.”