“On August 4th 2020, life was cut short. It will leave a memory that three
generations will not forget.”
Leila Molana-Allen:
At 6.08pm, a sudden
blast devastated East Beirut. The explosion destroyed Geitaoui
hospital, decimating its emergency room and intensive care unit. But that didn't stop the wounded and dying flooding through its
doors.
The makeshift ER
extended out into the parking lot. Many doctors and nurses who had gone home
for the day rushed back to the hospital to help. Moustapha
Al Moula was one of them.
Moustapha Al Moulal:
It was an absolute
bloodbath. I mean we had injuries, I couldn't even put
their faces together, didn’t even know where the patient's airways were.
Leila Molana-Allen:
Working with what they
could salvage from the destruction, staff also had to treat their injured
colleagues.
On the night of the
blast many doctors were injured and so they immediately set to healing each
other so they could then work on patients. They sutured their wound and each
other without anaesthetic to stitch up these wounds,
and this is from an emergency staple gun which is a fast way of sealing a wound
quickly to stop the bleeding so they could move on to other patients.
They did what they
could, performing emergency surgery in the makeshift ER with the operating
theatre in pieces. The specialist COVID-19 unit was also shattered. Its sterilised waiting area became a temporary morgue for the
bodies of those they couldn’t save.
With the hospital
falling apart, patients were evacuated using cars, scooters and whatever could
carry them. Many came here, to LAU Rizk Hospital,
damaged but still functional.
Dr Michel Mawad rushed in to find a scene of horror. There aren’t even records for most of the wounded; in the chaos,
doctors resorted to writing names and vital statistics on patients’ bare skin.
Lebanon's health care system was already under strain thanks to a crippling
economic downturn, unable to get hold of essential equipment and
supplies.
Across the city,
charities have set up mobile clinics like this one to try to bridge the gap in
care.
Oumayma
Farah:
After the explosion the healthcare system was heavily affected. The 5
major hospitals in the area were heavily damaged as well as 12 primary
healthcare centers.
Leila Molana-Allen:
They offer full-service
healthcare and provide essential medicines; Lebanon’s main drugs depot was
blown up in the explosion, leaving the country with a severe shortage.
Oumayma
Farah:
What we would usually
use in 2 weeks, we’re giving out in one day.
Leila Molana-Allen:
The clinic has also been
treating blast injuries to lessen the load on the semi-functioning hospitals.
But many of those injured will need far more serious ongoing care.
Almost 7000 people were
wounded; around 1,500 are still in intensive care. Dr Mawad
estimates a quarter of those at the hospital that night have been left with
life changing injuries, including loss of eyes, amputated limbs
and brain damage.
Dr. Michel Mawad:
The
vast majority of the injuries were the
head, skull. So because of that sudden increase of
pressure in the head a lot of them blew up. On top of that there was flying
glass injuries and some of the shards penetrated the skull and got into the
brain itself.
Leila Molana-Allen:
Naji Makhlouf sustained severe head
injuries. The doctors say he should regain full bodily control, but they won’t know the full extent of his brain injury until the
swelling goes down. Then he could face reduced processing ability,
communication challenges and memory loss. And his is one of the more moderate
cases.
But the devastation
wrought on Naji and his wife Nicole’s lives has been
anything but moderate. They also lost their house in the blast. Once Naji is well enough to leave the hospital, they face the
overwhelming task of finding somewhere to live while they find the money to
rebuild their home.
Theirs is one of the
worst damaged areas of Beirut, less than a kilometer from the port. The
explosion shattered this close-knit community, leaving thousands of families
who called these destroyed buildings home unsure if they can ever return.
The Mitris
live a few blocks down, not far from the blast’s epicentre.
None of the family were in the house when the explosion happened. Their roof
caved in completely. They've been living here since
the blast, desperate to try and hold on to what remains of the home they have
lived in all their lives.
Camil Mitri:
When it rained, all the
rain came on us. But we can't leave it, it's our home.
Leila Molana-Allen:
How much have you
managed to save of your belongings?
Camil Mitri:
Not a lot.
Leila Molana-Allen:
Do you have insurance?
Camil Mitri:
Yes, but they don't do anything. You know, Lebanon, this is it.
Leila Molana-Allen:
It’s a familiar story. Residents across Beirut say that the
authorities have done nothing for them. In their absence, groups of volunteers
are taking on the task of trying to get this ravaged city back on its feet.
Just meters from Camil's house, these young engineers and architects are
hatching a plan to rebuild Beirut. Those made homeless can come and register
their house’s location on a map. Each day, the volunteers walk the streets for
hours, visiting and assessing the registered properties.
The grassroots
collective gathering donations of building materials and buying what it can at
cost, hoping to get construction under way as soon as possible.
Their organization and
ambition is impressive. But the reality is, with more
than 8,000 damaged buildings in the area, assessing and rebuilding each will
take months, maybe years. And in the immediate aftermath sympathy is high; as
the world moves on, the money may soon run out.
And then there are
those, like Victoria and her mother, who will never be able to return home,
their buildings fractured beyond repair.
These cracks extend
through every wall of the building all the way down to the foundations.
This is their home. They
don’t know where to go. And facing homelessness and
unemployment, Victoria is also coping with the lasting trauma of the blast.
Victoria Toumajean:
Since that day, I have
...shaking hands The NGOS are coming and they are offering houses but the
houses are for one month or two months maximum, after that you have to pay the
rent and we are not working. How we are going to pay the rent?”
Leila Molana-Allen: Like
many in this beleaguered city, already coping with job losses, a crippled economy and few basic services even before the explosion,
Victoria feels this tragedy has finally broken her.
Victoria Toumajean:
They made us lose our
jobs and we stayed quiet. The dollar rate increased
and we stayed quiet. Now our homes are destroyed, our friends are dead.
Leila Molana-Allen:
It is hard to
overestimate the devastation this man-made catastrophe has wrought. As the dust
clears and the dead are buried, now the living must begin to rebuild what they
can of their shattered lives.
|
TIMECODE |
LOWER
THIRD |
1 |
00:29 |
MOUSTAPHA AL MOULA GEITAOUI LEBANESE HOSPITAL |
2 |
00:45 |
BEIRUT, LEBANON LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT |
3 |
00:48 |
BEIRUT, LEBANON LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN @LEILA_MA |
4 |
2:00 |
OUMAYMA FARAH ORDER OF MALTA LEBANON |
5 |
3:04 |
DR. MICHEL MAWAD LAU RIZK HOSPITAL |
6 |
4:20 |
CAMIL MITRI |
7 |
6:14 |
VICTORIA TOUMAJEAN |