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Reuters

Environment

Ellen Francis

'We lost everything:' Grieving Beirut neighbourhood struggles to rebuild

Buildings, damaged by an explosion at the Beirut port, stand in Karantina, Lebanon, August 13, 2020. REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

Claudette Halabi cried out from beneath the rubble of her house for an hour before she died. The neighbours couldn't save her.

"We kept hearing the screams. I heard her voice. But we couldn't do anything. It still hurts," said Johnny Khawand, near the remains of her Beirut building. The thundering blast at the port last week had crushed its three floors.

A car that was damaged by an explosion at the Beirut port, is covered with a piece of material, in the neighbourhood of Karantina, Beirut, Lebanon, August 12, 2020. REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

Khawand, born 40 years ago in the same neighbourhood, stayed up all night for the rescue operation. Four died in that building alone, among them Claudette, a widow in her 70s he knew since he was a kid.

In one of Beirut's poorest neighbourhoods, Karantina near the port, people are still reeling from the explosion that flattened homes and killed many neighbours who felt like family.

Everyone knows everyone. Everyone cried when they recalled the explosion.

Abdou Batrouni, who has a tattoo of Jesus Christ on his arm, stands in a room at his home which was damaged by an explosion at the Beirut port, in the neighbourhood of Karantina, Beirut, Lebanon, August 13, 2020. REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

A week later, the neighbours are struggling to find the money to rebuild, without help from the state in a city that was already deep in economic collapse.

The warehouse explosion killed at least 172 people, wounded thousands and ravaged entire districts. It shattered walls and ripped out balconies in Karantina, a neglected part of the capital.

The cluster of streets, with a slaughterhouse and a waste plant, saw one of the bloodiest massacres of Lebanon's 1975-1990 civil war.

A Lebanese flag hangs in front of the buildings that were damaged by an explosion at the Beirut port, in the neighbourhood of Karantina, Lebanon, August 13, 2020. REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

Many said the blast did more damage in a few seconds than 15 years of war. With the wreckage at their doorstep once more, families who have spent decades in Karantina have camped out in their apartments. They sleep on the floor or on ripped couches, without doors or windows, not sure how to go on.

'OUR LIFE SAVINGS'

"I'm in a nightmare I can't wake up from. I still can't believe I'm looking at my mother's coffin," said Claudette's son, George Halabi, who flew in for her funeral.

Abdou Batrouni sits on the balcony of his home that was damaged by an explosion at the Beirut port, in the neighbourhood of Karantina, Beirut, Lebanon, August 13, 2020. REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

At the church cemetery, the blast had blown the doors off family mausoleums, sending a stench that encircled mourners.

"It's a crime against all of Lebanon," Halabi said. "My mother survived the war."

Like many Lebanese, he blamed the sectarian elite that has ruled since the war for pushing the country to ruin.

Volunteers carry scaffolding to be set up around a building that was damaged by an explosion at the Beirut port, in the neighbourhood of Karantina, Beirut, Lebanon, August 13, 2020. REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

With the blast under investigation, officials have pointed to a huge stockpile of explosive material stored in unsafe conditions at the port for years.

Months before the warehouse blew up, a currency crash had wiped out Tony Matar's savings from his family's linens store.

"Our life's savings are in this house," said Matar, 68, whose grandfather was born in Karantina. "It was a paradise."

People attend the funeral procession of Claudette Halabi, who was killed in an explosion at the Beirut Port, at a cemetery that was also damaged by the blast, in Beirut, Lebanon, August 11, 2020. REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

The shockwaves brought doors, closets, and chairs crashing on his daughter Patricia, 25. She had travelled to Beirut for her sister's wedding, and her broken bones will take months to recover.

"Every time I come back home, I relive that moment. I remember how my daughter fell and I cry," said Tony's wife Souad, clad in black.

Her mother had died from cancer just days before. "I didn't even have time to mourn her," she said. "Can you imagine I thanked God she passed away? So that she did not have to see this."

A man walks past a building, that was damaged by an explosion at the Beirut port, in the neighbourhood of Karantina, Beirut, Lebanon, Beirut, Lebanon, August 12, 2020. REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

A CHILD'S TRAUMA

Abdou Batrouni, a fisherman, lost his small savings, stashed in a closet in a bedroom that was blown to pieces.

A woman reacts next to a coffin of Claudette Halabi who was killed in an explosion at the Beirut Port, during her funeral procession in Beirut, Lebanon, August 11, 2020. REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

His family has relied on donations and young volunteers who flocked to help from across the country. He and others said no officials visited the district, historically a place where refugees settled, which later also became home to some Syrian families and migrant workers.

Batrouni's wife had shielded their two sons, nine and three years old, with her body. They got out without a scratch, but he found one of the boys, Elie, crouched down, yelling "I don't want to die, I don't want to die."

"Now if I just clap, he gets startled and bursts into tears." The first night, they all slept next to each other on a mattress at the doorless entrance.

Tony Matar, 68, sits on a chair in his living room at his home that was damaged by an explosion at the Beirut port, in the neighbourhood of Karantina, Beirut, Lebanon, August 13, 2020. "Our life's savings are in this house," said Matar. "It was a paradise." REUTERS/Alkis Konstantinidis

Around every corner, neighbours told stories of loss but also bravery. A man who threw himself on his daughter needed dozens of stitches. A woman carried her elderly mother and hid her between two closets.

"We all grew up together, we saw each other get married," said Hoda Jouni, who runs a minimarket. "We lost everything."

(Writing by Ellen Francis; Additional reporting by Michael Georgy; Editing by Giles Elgood)