People stand near damaged cars following an explosion in Beirut, Lebanon August 4, 2020. Photo: Reuters
Beirut - Buildings and houses crumbled like playing cards, trapped under them were hundreds of citizens.
For a few seconds, I felt the floor tremble. I thought it was an earthquake, and then I heard the loudest explosion. My first reaction was to check on my parents. That's when I realised that Beirut, my beloved city, was somehow gone.
- Khaleej Times (@khaleejtimes) August 5, 2020
I heard loud screams and an instant flashback from my childhood came back to my thoughts. I felt like a 6-year-old, panicking, shivering, confused and trapped. My Beirut looked like a war zone again. There was blood and devastation everywhere. I was stunned, numbed. This is not happening, I kept telling myself over and over. This is not happening.
But I could see devastation everywhere I looked. It was real. Buildings and houses crumbled like playing cards, trapped under them were hundreds of citizens. I had never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would live those memories again.
And suddenly I hear a Simon and Garfunkel tune in my head, but with a minor difference: "Hello PTSD, my old friend. I have to talk to you again."
For months now, the Lebanese have been reeling under the worst economic crisis since the end of their 15-year civil war.
- Khaleej Times (@khaleejtimes) August 5, 2020
Over the past few days Lebanon had been confined under a second lockdown because of Covid-19. A misery adding to the piles of miseries -- poor GDP, hyperinflation, the NGO 'Save the Children' declaring that half a million Lebanese children are going hungry in Beirut along, continuous power cuts. Then there's the daily bad news of the country's collapsed economy and the constant toxic ambience could drive anyone to a mental breakdown and severe depression, me being the first.
"My panic attacks start as my heart starts to beat fast. My fingers go numb. I sit on the floor and try to calm myself. I use breathing techniques my yoga teacher taught me," says @ChristianeWaked https://t.co/QWtxqQ6YJo pic.twitter.com/GptI8qSlEZ
- Khaleej Times (@khaleejtimes) August 5, 2020
Fear alone is enough to drive anyone crazy. Living in fear, unfortunately, is a daily affair here.
This explosion is something no one will recover from soon. It's like this ultimate pain, that either kills you or revives you in a miraculous way.
I look around and ask why the Lebanese have to suffer so much. When will it be enough?
Why must the Lebanese kids have their innocence stolen from them? Kids anywhere in this world should be spared from such thing.
"I thought it was an earthquake, and then I heard the loudest explosion. My first reaction was to check on my parents. That's when I realised that #Beirut, my beloved city, was somehow gone," says @ChristianeWaked https://t.co/QWtxqQ6YJo pic.twitter.com/3lfwHB5MRo
- Khaleej Times (@khaleejtimes) August 5, 2020
My panick attacks start as my heart starts to beat fast. My fingers go numb. I sit on the floor and try to calm myself. I use breathing techniques my yoga teacher taught me.
Then, out of nowhere, I remember this great quote by Beau Taplin. I say to myself: "Listen to me Beirut. Your body is not a temple. Temples can be destroyed and desecrated. Your body is a forest. Thick canopies of maple trees and sweet-scented wildflowers sprouting in the underwood. You will grow back, over and over, no matter how badly you are devastated."
Christiane Waked is a political analyst based in Beirut.
Christiane Waked