Opinion piece by Aya Takidin, Contributor

March 19th, 2021

In the span of 7 months, a newborn baby begins eating solid foods and obtains the ability to respond to their name. A person can become entirely fluent in a foreign language. New friendships and relationships can be formed. 7 months is enough time to complete a full semester at university. Some could start up a new business or get promoted in a current company. Life moves forward in 7 months, and any type of progress is almost inevitable. In addition to all of the above-mentioned possibilities, 7 months is more than enough time to conduct and complete proper investigations. In any other country, that might be the case. In Lebanon, however, 7 months post an explosion that rocked the country, we are still clueless as to why it happened, how it happened, and who is responsible.

 

August 4th, 2020 was a day that will forever be engraved in the back of my mind as the day a piece of my heart was lost. A day the light faded in the eyes of the liveliest country I had the honor of making beautiful memories in. My 6pms will never look the same, as the giant mushroom cloud will find its way into every sunset I try to admire. After a long day at the beach, the car ride home with a group of friends will never hold the same value it used to before, as it now brings along waves of anxiety and headaches. The song "Herside Story" will forever faintly play in every car ride I take as it was the soundtrack of the mere seconds before everyone's lives flipped entirely. In just 10 minutes, our car ride went from looking out of the window and admiring the views to looking out of the window to see hundreds of people evacuating the mall, crying, screaming, with nowhere to go. No one knew where they could find shelter, and no one knew what place was safe. They still don't.

 

Approximately 2,750 tonnes of improperly stored ammonium nitrate exploded in Beirut's port, killing more than 200 people, injuring more than 7,000, and leaving hundreds of thousands homeless and jobless. A 5-day investigation was promised by the Lebanese government, claiming they share the people's fury. It has been 7 months without a proper investigation. No answers, no justice. No trust in an already failed government. However, what did happen was a wave of emigration, a sharp increase in prices, a scarce number of imports, and an increase in unemployment and homelessness. Fires broke out almost every day (causes unknown), igniting fear in everyone's hearts as a second explosion was awaited. Any shred of trust left in the government has vanished completely. I hope the Lebanese people's voices can one day encourage revealing the truth behind every injustice that occurred in this country. In the light of uplifting Lebanese voices, below are a few testimonies from people affected by the explosion.

 

 

Our first testimony is from the son of a Lebanese businessman (who prefers to remain anonymous). His family was renting a warehouse to store their tires on the Beirut port. On August 4th, 2020, a fire originated in a few warehouses on the port before the ammonium nitrate exploded and shattered the country. Our anonymous interviewee explains his family's experience and how the blast affected their business.

"I was at my mother's house when we first felt the vibrations from the explosion. I immediately went online to see what's going on. When I found out, I checked up on my family and friends. Thankfully, everyone was safe. Moments later, we got the news that the fire originated in our warehouse, damaging all the imported tires. The insurance company has yet to compensate us for the loss because the government has yet to declare the reason behind the explosion. We had another shipment of tires that survived the damages of August 4th only to be destroyed when another fire broke out in the port. We were promised a 5-day investigation, and we have yet to receive an explanation, compensation, or justice. My father's business in Lebanon was severely affected, along with many other businesses. This shouldn't be our reality."

 

 

Nouranne Machmouchi, 19

Lebanese activist shares her experience post protest and everything she did to help. She is a Political Science and International Affairs student at LAU and is involved in the October 17 uprising.

 

"On August 4th, I was cruising with a friend of mine in Raouche, catching one of Beirut's many beautiful sunsets. When the explosion first happened, I didn't hear anything. I just saw everything around me collapse. I realized that an explosion occurred when I saw the pink mushroom cloud and the plethora of injured people around me. I did not react; I wasn't shocked by the severity of the events at that moment. After making sure all my family and friends were safe, my immediate reaction was to donate blood. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to because of my health conditions. 

 

The day after the explosion, I went down to the streets to be with my people. I needed to grieve with my country, and the only way we know how to grieve in Lebanon is to rebuild. I went down to the streets under the name of an independent Lebanese citizen that has been the victim of the government's incompetence for no reason. I knew I couldn't help financially, so I began cleaning Beirut's streets while also attending protests. In my opinion, the voices of the Lebanese people crying for help were silenced by the strict lockdown rules implemented after the explosion. I understand we are in a pandemic, but I believe that this lockdown was to silence the people and make sure the revolution doesn't take off again. This explosion added to the very long list of reasons I have to go down and protest every single day. I don't feel safe in my country. Most of my friends left the country, and it hurts knowing that it is my best interest to leave. I know I can ever leave, though, because I would like to be the change I want to see in my country."

 

 

 

 

Kassem Younes, 19

Lebanese Dentistry student in Budapest, Hungary, shares his August 4 experience.

 

"August 4th started as any normal day for a typical Lebanese teenager. I woke up excited that restaurants would be open since the lockdown rules were lifted. I left the house to have lunch with a bunch of friends. I drove to Classic Burger Joint, which is located in Downtown Beirut. On my way there, a great friend of mine asked me to pick him up, and so I did, well, not exactly. On my way to his house, located near the ESCWA (United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Western Asia) ...BOOM! Something happened. My initial reaction was peculiar. The cigarette fell from my hand, and all I could see was people evacuating their houses and cars. At first, I saw people lying on the floor, so I quickly rushed to help them. I was not too fond of this moment because I had to choose the people that needed help the most and abandon others. I eventually decided to help 2 young brothers who were severely injured and took them to the nearest hospital. Fortunately, I was able to get them in because I was one of the first people to arrive at the hospital. I ensured that they got in and started calling my parents and sisters to check if they're alive, which I still can't believe I had to do. No one answered, so I slipped into a great trepidation as I rushed back home and found all my family members outside the house impatiently waiting for me and calling me to check if I was alive, only there was no cellular service. I had anxiety problems before the explosion, but the 4th of August disaster was the cherry on the top.

Everything in my life changed. I had to leave my country, the city I happily grew up in, my family, friends, and culture. All I can think about is how did we reach this point of negligence and corruption? I compare Lebanon to a drug; the more you consume drugs, the more you get damaged, but you can't stop because it's addictive. Lebanon is my biggest dilemma. I believe that law without justice is a wound without a cure. The world seems very unfair, and I hope that God will give us the answer to all of this one day."

 

 

 

Michelle Shukri, 18

Lebanese Nursing student at AUB shares her traumatic experience.

 

"During summer, my biggest hobby was biking. My parents weren't always comfortable with that since we're in a pandemic, but on August 4th, they let me go. I had this strange feeling that I shouldn't go, so instead, I stayed home and video chatted with a few friends. At around 6 pm, I heard a high-frequency sound, and everything went into slow motion, just like in an action movie.

The first thing that came to my mind was to make sure my family was okay. My door was utterly destroyed. There was glass shattered everywhere in the hallway, and I was too distraught to step over it, so I walked on the glass. I saw my parents in the hallway as we all were trying to take in what just happened. My father has a medical condition and can't walk very well, and when my mother panics, her body freezes up. I saw my father trying to push my mother while she just stood there, unable to move. My brother has autism and is nonverbal. His bedroom door wouldn't open because of the pressure; it was stuck, so we all kept trying to tear down the door while calling his name plenty of times but never got a reply. My mother thought we lost him. She left the house and started screaming for help everywhere. The streets were an absolute disaster. My printer flew from our home and landed on the road.

Meanwhile, my father gathered his tools to open my brother's bedroom door, but nothing worked. My brother, Mark, usually listens to loud music on his iPad, but at that moment, the music suddenly stopped. I felt all this anger build up inside of me, which therefore lead me to kick the door with all my might, and it finally opened. My leg was bleeding very badly at this point. We found my brother sitting in his room, staring at the window in utter shock.

My mother couldn't sleep before she cleaned the entire house, so family members helped us get everything done in just a couple of hours. The house atmosphere was an absolute mess. Parts of our ceiling broke down, windows were shattered, and almost all doors in the house were destroyed. Everyone was crying. That day feels like the biggest disaster to ever happen. I live in Gietawi, so the entire area was almost in ruins.

My thoughts 7 months after the explosion are still the same as the day of. Who was responsible? Why did this happen? I feel tremendous sadness, confusion, and anger. We don't have to be strong and resilient. We need answers. Why is this explosion only talked about once a month? It needs to be remembered every day.

 A few days ago, I took a walk for the first time in months. The waves of emotions took over me. Damage is still everywhere. Emotionally, mentally, physically, and economically. We need answers."

 

Expat Annabelle Ghanem, 21

Annabelle is a Political Science and International Affairs student at AUB. She is also minoring in Education.

"When I first found out about the explosion, I was in complete and utter shock. I remember sitting in the living room with my family when my work WhatsApp group started spamming me with videos and pictures. I was in complete and utter shock. The first thing I did was call my friends and family. A lot of them resided in Ashrafieh and Gemayzeh and were wounded after the blast. It was so surreal to me that the people I loved were barely able to escape death because of the corruption we are forced to live with every day.

I immediately took it upon myself to raise as much awareness as possible on my social media platforms, promoting housing, food, and medical pages on the daily. I donated to several go-fund-me pages and made it a priority to work for conferences that were raising funds for Beirut. Being an expat is genuinely a blessing and a curse. I can't explain to you the amount of survivor guilt and torment that consumed me, knowing my people were suffering a fate they do not deserve.

7 months after the explosion, I genuinely believe I became even more involved in my country's politics, vouching for the complete elimination of these corrupt politicians ruining our country more prominently both in my daily life and social media platforms. I switched most of my daily commodities, from skin care to clothing, to Lebanese made products, in the hopes that even the smallest contribution could make a difference to someone. I believe all of us who share that pain and eagerness to help as much as we can have impacted the relief efforts one way or another. Unity has been our strong suit in this situation.

 I have no message to the government because I don't believe my country even has one. I don't recognize them as politicians, but as the reason I walk on the streets to this day and see children begging for survival, students unable to afford an education, and parents scrambling to feed their families. If they had any humanity left, they'd turn in their passports and leave the country."

On February 12th, I woke up to a headline that said, "Beirut was lucky." Beirut used to be lucky by being a thriving economic hub and "the Paris of the middle east." Paris, however, Beirut is "lucky" not to have been completely wiped out by a second explosion. A German firm clearing the Beirut port stated that Lebanon was lucky it didn't endure a second blast, with the amount of haphazardly stored chemicals found. If the people in power continue holding on to their chairs, Lebanon would eventually be in ruins. Change is inevitable, and it is coming soon. The people of Lebanon deserve better. They deserve a proper investigation. They deserve to live in peace. They deserve a thriving economy. They deserve a government that genuinely cares about them. They deserve to indeed be lucky.”