News stories by Dalila Mahdawi

Even in the summer heat, the hills of South Lebanon are an impressive sight - a patchwork of green, brown and red fields interrupted only by sleepy villages, rock formations and dirt tracks.

To a soundtrack of almost constant pounding of fists against iron doors, drama therapist Zeina Daccache is trying to capture the attention of a group of women prisoners. Many of the 45 women are suffering from drug withdrawal and alternately appear agitated, upset, energised and detached. Others chat loudly, take long puffs off cigarettes, or pace the room.

Following five months of bitter political wrangling, Lebanon’s Prime Minister Najib Mikati finally announced a new government in mid-June. But while many Lebanese feel relieved over the long overdue appointments, gender equality campaigners despair that there is not a single female among 30 ministers appointed to the new Cabinet. It has further ruffled activist feathers that this glaring omission has failed to elicit the condemnation they are demanding.

Wafaa Bilal hasn't had a decent night's sleep in about two months. After becoming the first person to have a camera surgically implanted into the back of his head, the Iraqi- American artist is learning the hard way just how much of a headache modern technology can be.

Straddling the hills overlooking the Mediterranean Sea is Roumieh, Lebanon's largest and most notorious high-security men's prison. Crowded into its dank and depressing concrete cells are those convicted as religious extremists, murderers, mobsters and spies.

October and November have been bloody months for Lebanon's migrant domestic workers - over the last five weeks nine women have died. Most deaths have been reported as suicide.