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It was a quiet, warm August evening. I just held a seminar on the rise of hate speech in the Lebanese media for Lebanese journalists and enjoyed a summer drink with three female friends at the Commodore Hotel in Hamra, Lebanon.
At around 6 pm, we received a message from a London friend on WhatsApp telling us that he saw a tweet about the “explosion” of Beirut Port. This tweet is accompanied by a photo showing the gray smoke above the port. Since we did not hear the explosion, we doubted this story, but we still picked up the phone to check if there were any conclusive reports. We found nothing. I have commented on how dangerous this kind of “fake news” is, especially in a politically unstable country like Lebanon, but we didn’t think much about it.
After a few minutes, we felt a shock, followed by a strong shock, shaking our table. It feels like an earthquake, but we know instinctively that what we are experiencing is not a natural disaster. After a fraction of a second, we heard a loud noise and the broken glass started to rain.Feel like The world is about to end.
This is a scene worse than anything I’ve seen when I grew up in the Lebanese civil war or as a journalist covering multiple Israeli attacks on our country. This is worse than the two suicide bombings I witnessed in Beirut in 2013 and 2014.
I must have passed out because when I opened my eyes, my head was nailed to the wooden surface of the table. I heard my friend scream: “Something fell on Zahera!”
When I begged my friend to “take that thing away from me”, the only thing I could think of was that my city betrayed me. Even in the most difficult period, I felt that the safe city had abandoned me.
When my friends finally succeeded in lifting the large window frame resting on my shoulders and releasing me, they started shouting: “Zahera has blood on her face!” I couldn’t feel anything, so they tried to calm them down. Said it might just be a nosebleed. Deep down, I fear that I will soon become one of the many victims of violence in Lebanon that I have reported over the years.
Soon it became clear that the blood that sheds on my face is not a nosebleed-there are three deep incisions on my face that need to be sutured. Looking at the surrounding chaos, we realized that there was no point in calling an ambulance. My friends said they would drive me to a nearby hospital.
When we walked out of the hotel, we found ourselves facing the end of the world. There are countless doors and windows on the street. The wounded man was covered in blood and walked aimlessly among the broken glass.
We were denied entry to three hospitals, which were crowded with wounded-those who fought for their lives. I feel desperate and scared. I know that my city is doomed to perish.
After I finally managed to get myself into the hospital and treat my wound, I began to recall our search for the cause of the explosion. First of all, we think this is an Israeli air strike. Then, a story began to circulate on WhatsApp, claiming that it was a suicide bomb attack that occurred near the residence of Saad Hariri, the son of the former prime minister and the assassinated prime minister, Rafik Hariri.
It took a few hours before we knew what happened. The warning we saw earlier in the evening about the port “explosion” was actually about a fire in a warehouse full of fireworks. The fire has spread to a nearby facility containing about 2,500 tons of ammonium nitrate and caused a devastating explosion.
At least 218 deaths Thousands of people were injured. One third of the city was completely destroyed, and about 300,000 people were displaced. And this kind of damage was not caused by external forces, but by internal enemies.
That day, with the sound of the explosion, a sense of despair swept across the country. We cannot believe that the ruling class allowed to store tons of explosives in Beirut Port for more than 6 years-a time bomb in the center of the city.We can’t believe our politicians and civil servants Negligence and corruption Enough to contribute to such a serious human tragedy.
When we tried to pick up the fragments of our lives and understand how much we lost in a few minutes, we realized that our country had officially joined Failure and crash status.
In fact, Lebanon can only be described as an “entity” run by a group of corrupt warlords, focusing only on its own economic and political interests.
After learning about the depth of negligence and corruption that led to the destruction of Beirut, I decided not to call Lebanese politicians “political leaders.” “Leaders” will not sentence their own people to death. They will not weaken their capital physically and psychologically.
Lebanon has collapsed, but more than a year later, its rulers still spend most of their energy on blaming each other for the disaster. Every sect, every political party, is accusing another sect of what happened in our country.
Those who rule Lebanon are not “leaders” but mobs who need to be brought to justice.
In a news workshop I held after the explosion, a well-known Lebanese investigative reporter asked: “If I call Beirut port officials a criminal, will it be hate speech?”
“My investigation showed that they knew about the danger of storing large amounts of ammonium nitrate in population centers, but still did not take any action,” the reporter said. “If I call them killers, will they be considered hate speech?”
I don’t know how to answer this question. In a country where the judiciary is also controlled by the same corrupt ruling class, it may be up to the reporter to decide. Personally, I have already made a decision.
It has been more than a year since the explosion. But the Lebanese people are still waiting for justice. We are waiting for those who were directly or indirectly responsible for our mass assassinations to be held accountable for their crimes.
Beirut today is the shadow of the city we were once familiar with. The port explosion and the subsequent total collapse of the Lebanese economy caused losses to the capital and its people.
Not only Beirut, but the entire Lebanon is now a traumatic zone. Trauma has become a major component of our national identity. We want to heal, we try to heal-but there is no cure without justice. In order for the Lebanese people to look forward to the future with hope again, those who undermine our economic and personal security need to be put in prison.
However, the mob who ruled us is thinking avoid responsibility.
Their recent move After two congressmen who were summoned for trial filed a complaint accusing the chief investigating judge of “bias”, “suspending” the investigation of the explosion is the latest evidence that they will do everything they can to obstruct justice.
But the Lebanese people will not give up.The families of the people killed in this explosion do not give upDespite repeated unscrupulous attempts to silence them and weaken their protests, they are still determined to seek justice for their loved ones.
Reading this, you might think that I am still at the decisive moment when I realize that Beirut has been destroyed and the Lebanese state has collapsed. I am trapped, but I am not alone. Every Beluti still stayed at that moment. Our lives are still defined by what happened in that August night more than a year ago.
The Lebanese people are known for their perseverance. Our resilience allows us to step out of 15 years of civil war and rebuild our lives and our country. Sadly, our resilience was exhausted after the explosion in Beirut Port. Anger and despair prevailed. Only justice for the victims can bring some comfort and hope to this colonial political structure known as Lebanon.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.
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