“Is your Mom okay?”
I stare at the WhatsApp message for what feels like eternity, but I doubt more than 5 seconds elapse. I snap back.
Why would my Mom not be okay? What happened? And why am I learning about it through a friend living abroad, and not from my Mom herself, or my Dad, or my Aunt, or the very few friends I still have in Lebanon.
I call my Mom. The call drops instantly. So do the calls to my Dad and my Aunt. It is unusual that all three calls drop. I get a sinking feeling. Something major must have happened.
The primary details are hazy.
I call again. First, my Mom. Then my Aunt. And after that, my Dad. No answer.
An explosion at the Port of Beirut.
I try calling a third time. And, for the third time, all three calls drop at once.
Terrifying, black, thick smoke emanates from the explosion site.
I lost count of the call attempts. Maybe twenty, maybe thirty, maybe forty. My message finally goes through.
A lot of speculations regarding what happened make the rounds.
My call goes through as well. Mom answers. She is physically fine. She was in the kitchen, next to the windows which, thankfully, didn’t break. The windows are old, they don’t close properly. She was sitting down when The Thing happened. She found herself on the floor.
I try not to read much into the speculations, but it is hard not to. Almost impossible.
My Aunt is physically fine. She is at Mom’s place at the time of The Thing and is getting ready to go back to her place. She decides to stay a bit longer at Mom’s. My Aunt’s route passes nearby the Port. Had she not stayed for a bit longer…
Information starts to trickle down.
My Dad answers my call. He is physically fine.
One video of the explosion from ground-zero.
It is time to answer back my friend. I ask him about his family. All are physically fine.
More videos from ground-zero.
I message my friends in Lebanon. All are physically fine. I message my Lebanese friends abroad. Their families are physically fine.
Videos from the streets closest to the Port.
I receive messages from my non-Lebanese friends, in Switzerland and abroad. I dutifully reply to them: my family is physically fine.
Videos showing the explosion creeping up on unsuspecting people.
The fourth of August. The night was a haze. The next morning and the next few days as well. More messages. More “my family is physically fine, thanks for asking”. Autopilot. All autopilot.
The scale is unfathomable. Deaths. Kids. Women. Men. Humans. Lebanese. Non-Lebanese. Under the rubble. Missing limbs. Comas. Overwhelmed hospitals. The Lebanese Red Cross working day in, day out. Blood donation campaigns. Fundraising efforts. Livelihoods. Pets. Animals. More videos. More photos. More speculations.
Autopilot. Laboratory work. Sadness. Writing paper drafts. Doom-scrolling. Going to work. Pushing through. Always.
NC Dia-Schneebeli 