In a land conditioned by calamity, people knew what to do, including helping wounded people they didn't know
An injured man is carried on a piece of wood after a large explosion on August 4, 2020 in Beirut, Lebanon.Video shared on social media showed a structure fire near the port of Beirut followed by a second massive explosion, which damaged surrounding buildings and injured hundreds.
Image: Daniel Carde/Getty Images
BEIRUT — I was just about to look at a video a friend had sent me Tuesday afternoon — “the port seems to be burning,” she said — when my whole building shook, as if startled, by the deepest boom I’d ever heard. Uneasily, naïvely, I ran to the window, then back to my desk to check for news.
Then came a much bigger boom, and the sound itself seemed to splinter. There was shattered glass flying everywhere. Not thinking but moving, I ducked under my desk.
When the world stopped cracking open, I couldn’t see at first because of the blood running down my face. After blinking the blood from my eyes, I tried to take in the sight of my apartment turned into a demolition site. My yellow front door had been hurled on top of my dining table. I couldn’t find my passport, or even any sturdy shoes.
Later, someone would tell me that Beirutis of her generation, who had been raised during Lebanon’s 15-year civil war, instinctively ran into their hallways as soon as they heard the first blast, to escape the glass they knew would break.
©2019 New York Times News Service