Weeping soldiers, picture found online, author unknown
If the first moments were robotic like, they were definitely not emotionless. They were quite the opposite. A flood of feelings were threatening to submerge me. My senses were fully wired. I gathered my spirits because that is how most of us Lebanese have learned to cope. See, I was born in 1978. The Civil War was raging. Our house was bombed several times. My mother always refused to take us down to shelters. She would try to explain bombings and terrifying sounds in a simple way for our little minds. My father had to move us out of the city for a short time at multiple instances to keep us safe, while he remained on the ground with the community. But we lived most of it in Sin el Fil, a suburb that could get quite "busy" at times. Is this why I rationalize every problem I encounter and try to find solutions before I allow myself to feel? Maybe. And yet, how can I ever express how that moment, and the ones that followed, felt, on Tuesday, August 4, 2020?
After I had made sure my siblings and parents were all safe, that most of my close friends, unfortunately not all of them, made it unharmed, my mind started racing. I had to do something. I contacted a friend, and we would attempt to drive as closely to the scene as possible. Even before reaching the area, a heavy, painful energy lingered in the air. My senses were on full alert mode. The tiniest squeak made me twitch. It was impossible to do much in the chaos that seemed to be reigning everywhere. Sirens could be heard from miles away. We drove away. We needed to plan what to do and be efficient. The sight of people covered with blood couldn't but trigger memories of the 1980's that had been long buried...
On Thursday, my friends and I met again. We left our cars somewhere in Ashrafieh and continued on foot towards Gemmayze to start with our small field contribution. The sight of the torn buildings, some just a mere structure somehow still standing, was simply tragic. It was quite tricky to move safely around. Debris were everywhere. The live streams had been shared a few moments after the blast and the views were apocalyptic. But it's quite a different impression when you are walking through such an aura. Confusion. Dismay. A poignant agony. Think of these and multiply them many fold. The once so vibrant city that attracted people from all over the world with its resilience and hospitality was crippled. Ripped to pieces. And it was, and still is, very very difficult to digest it.
For my published article after the Beirut blast in 2020, read here.
