I started working with Concern Worldwide UK in February 2020 as part of their Major Donor team in the London office. I was fortunate enough to have had the chance to visit Concern’s programs in northern Lebanon before starting my role in London. Seeing the work firsthand was a transformative experience, one that made all the difference in my commitment to join Concern’s global movement to end extreme poverty.
However, just a month into my new position, the COVID-19 pandemic worsened in the UK, forcing us all into lockdown and working from home. Being Lebanese and having grown up in Beirut, I flew back to work from there. A few months went by, and as my work as a fundraiser continued I could see how vital it was to raise funds for Concern to deliver life-changing programs amid the impacts of COVID.
On August 4, 2020, my life as I knew it changed forever. My family and I were caught up in the world’s biggest non-nuclear blast ever recorded. I am grateful to be at my desk today, as many of my friends are in intensive care in hospital and may not live to tell their story.
The day of the Beirut port explosion
I was working with my colleague in a café in Beirut; an ancient city scarred by war, but one that is vibrant, welcoming, and full of life. Around 5:40 pm, I ordered an Uber to meet my father for a sunset drink by the sea. Upon arrival, I tipped the driver. He smiled, thanked me on behalf of his young ones, and off he went.
As I walked towards the sea, I spotted my father. All of a sudden, I heard the sound of an aircraft rushing towards us — VRRRRRRR. This was not like a passenger plane flying overhead, but much closer, much faster. The ground beneath me started to shake and I screamed, “It’s an earthquake!” A woman next to me pulled her daughter out from the water and screamed “Its war!”
I heard a BOOM and fell to the ground as a pink mushroom cloud began spreading above me, eating the city alive. Memories of a double-bomb I barely survived in 2008 resurfaced. Around me, shattered glass was flying from neighboring buildings, children were in tears, and my father was panicking about my brother’s whereabouts. But all I could think about was my mom, and that this was the end. I could feel it in my gut; an overwhelming feeling of acceptance washed over me, and I said a little prayer. Everyone around me was panicking, but I felt more peaceful in comparison.
I picked up my broken phone and sent my mom a voice memo, thinking that she was away from the blast: “Mom, I’m safe, I’m safe. Are you?”
For 45 minutes, I did not hear from her. I called home, no answer. People around us were terrified to move, and terrified to stay. There we were, the famously resilient Lebanese people caught in yet another injustice. Once I was able to connect to the internet and follow the news, it became clear that where I was standing made the difference between life and death.
“There we were, the famously resilient Lebanese people caught in yet another injustice.”
Mom finally answered the phone; she was being carried home and a doctor was on his way to attend to her injuries (small particles of shattered glass under her skin, particularly around her legs, feet, and hands because she fell to the floor during the blast). I was not to worry. Thankfully, all my family survived and were ok. However, the following day, my mom buried her best friend.
Alive for a reason
Some people say they escaped death, but I feel like it was death that escaped me. If I am alive today, it is for a reason. As a 29-year-old Lebanese woman, I survived this.
In 2005, while on my way back from a school trip, I survived the blast that brought Lebanon to its knees.
In 2006, I survived a war that destroyed my country, and fled to neighboring Syria for shelter.
In the years to follow, I survived a series of bombings and assassinations that killed many people in Lebanon. It seems to me that, if you are Lebanese and alive today, it is for a reason.
By working with Concern, I can make a difference to those that have also been affected by tragedies such as this, as well as other humanitarian crises across the world. Concern is responding to the explosion, handing out shelter and dignity kits to families affected, and has launched an appeal to raise more money so that we can reach more people.
Being there on the ground, I can tell you that the team in Lebanon haven’t had a moment of rest since the blast, working around the clock to ensure that no home, and no person, is left without essentials. I want to show respect and appreciation for my colleagues in Lebanon.
I may not know the reason I am alive today; but what I do know is that life is short, and it is what you make of the time you have on this earth that really matters. Help someone in need every single day.
Concern in Lebanon today
Following the August 2020 Beirut port explosion, Concern Lebanon team members responded as Tania describes above. However the blast is just one of the many recent events in Lebanon that have left the country in a very complex situation that could threaten to become a deeper crisis.
“The economic crisis, currency devaluation, and associated high inflation; and massive vulnerability among Lebanese populations coupled with the protection needs of Syrian refugees and migrant workers has created a very complex and challenging environment in which to operate,” explained country director Anita Shah in March of this year. Concern is responding to the furthest behind in Lebanon, both in host communities and among refugee settlements. You can support our work by donating below.