Beirut: A life in fragments

By Mariam Labban

“To the citizens of Beirut: The Israel Defence Forces have not used all the means at their disposal to defeat the terrorists. Save your lives and the lives of your loved ones. Leave Beirut. The following roads are open – Save your lives.”

On Sunday, June 27, 1982, the malicious Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) showered Beirut with coloured leaflets signalling an imminent invasion.

In October 2024, digital platforms replaced paper warnings. The IDF spokesman has become the most reliable source of military information, virtually all Lebanese await his threats unveiling the missiles’ next target. Horror, loss, and devastation remain the only constant variables in both equations.

Thousands of families had little, if any, time at all to gather their belongings and flee their homes leaving behind memories and pictures never to be retrieved again. The displaced swamped safer regions occupying public schools, empty warehouses, vacant buildings with or without their owners’ consent… Unwashed, unshaved, and uncombed people smelled of perspiration and despair. They have lost their human element, becoming faceless statistics to the world. While a great number found themselves self-imposed visitors on distant relatives or friends. As households tripled and quadrupled in size, this heavy weight became prominent as the days went by.

During the day, and to entertain themselves and catch up with the news, the displaced men and women would sit on the pavements with their hubble-bubble and coffee pots while the children played nearby much to the dismay of residents who would roll their eyes in utter disbelief.

Beirut had metamorphosed into a huge parking lot for cars and motorcycles. Cars double parked restricting already narrowed streets whereas motorcycles used the pavements as parking lots hence walkers had to carefully manoeuvre their way to avoid their bums wiping the dirt off cars. Good luck nosing your car in this jungle. Hence short trips took hours to complete; so, people came up with inventive ways to pass the time; a friend of mine stuck in traffic watched Netflix on his phone, while another read a magazine. The real calls for concern were noticing a multitude of cars without license plates circulating freely under the watchful eyes of helpless policemen. This deeply disturbing phenomenon sadly confirmed that the Lebanese State has lost all control, and another state had already developed within the Official State.

Hamra, my neighbourhood, has been equally inflicted by this population surge therefore it adopted a new personality, alien to its residents. It changed from being a commercial centre with high-end boutiques to seeing makeshift stores mushrooming on its pavements. The latter sell not only fast food, groceries, clothes, but also homeware, and sports shoes. Several restaurants have turned into humanitarian canteens, their stoves now serve to feed displaced families daily. Schools with community service programs as well as NGOs are doing their best to help ease this tense and miserable situation. Sadly, a great number of self-proclaimed NGOs come with conspicuous backgrounds but that’s a story to be told.

Repercussions were felt in every aspect of life, streets were strewn with rubbish; smouldering piles filled the air thick with stench and unpleasant odour. The usual garbage collection system was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of waste and debris, so no sooner were dumpsters emptied they flooded again.

During this engulfing chaos, I’m in a restless search for a sense of self and identity. The unravelling of this imposed reality accentuated antagonistic feelings of “us” versus “them” despite multiple national calls for unity. My biggest fear is what may follow the ceasefire, naturally the answer would be for the displaced to return to their homes. The sad reality though is that the majority have no homes to go back to! What will happen next is anybody’s guess: Civil war? Reconstruction? Diaspora? Geographical relocation?

Being no stranger to this scenario, Lebanon has endured a thirty-year civil war as a painful memory, thus the prospects of meaningful recovery are bleak.

Amid all this social havoc and highly chaotic political situation, the IDF continues to relentlessly annihilate any sign of life in villages and cities across Lebanon. Despite this gloomy reality, the Lebanese people continue their hope for a divine intervention to stop the atrocities and dream of a brighter future.