“We Took Only Our IDs So Someone Could Identify Us if We Died on the Streets”
On September 23rd, our neighbors from the south arrived at our doorstep. They had narrowly escaped the devastation of their homes, seeking refuge in Beirut, unaware that our city would soon become the next target. We welcomed them with open arms, trying to provide a semblance of normalcy. Each day was a struggle, living moment to moment, anxiously awaiting news from our loved ones who were still trapped in the south.
The morning of September 27th began like any other, but at 6:20 PM, our world was shattered. They launched a strike on Haret Hreik. The sound of the explosion echoed through Beirut, but what we felt was even more terrifying. It was like a wave of fear washed over us, making everything feel like it was in slow motion. We were paralyzed, not knowing where the next strike would land or how powerful it would be. Questions raced through our minds: Has the war begun?
Minutes later, the streets of the southern suburb were filled with people, dazed and uncertain of what to do next. With no safe place to go, we decided to stay in our home, the only place we truly belonged, despite the looming threat. That evening, around 11 PM, Israel announced on Twitter that they would target specific buildings in Laylake and Hadath, streets away from where I live, claiming there were weapons stored there. People started to flee.
Our family consists of 14 members, including three children. We had nowhere to go. We decided to stay put until we could find a safer place. As I was trying to put our parrot in its cage, the sound of a missile pierced the air, followed by a deafening explosion. Fear gripped us. Not just the fear of death, but the fear of being buried under the rubble or surviving only to lose another loved one.
As we had feared, the strikes were indiscriminate, hitting far more areas and buildings than they had announced. The night sky was lit up by continuous explosions, making it seem like day. The strikes grew closer and closer. By 4 AM, we were huddled near the stairs, hoping it was the safest spot. Realizing we could be next, with heavy hearts and trembling hands, we made the heart-wrenching decision to leave. We took only our IDs so someone could identify us if we died on the streets. The thought of leaving our home, the place we had always felt safe, was unbearable, but the instinct to survive pushed us forward.
We left into chaos, with fires and smoke all around the southern suburb. The air smelled of burning buildings. We headed to Rouche area, where thousands of people were gathered, looking for safety. The streets were full of displaced people, all showing the same fear and uncertainty we felt. It was overwhelming: children clinging to their parents, elderly people struggling to keep up, and families huddled together, trying to find comfort in the chaos. Every step was heavy with despair, but we kept moving, hoping to find a safe place.
This experience has left an indelible mark on us. It is a testament to the resilience of our community and the strength we find in each other during the darkest times. We remain hopeful for a future where such horrors are a distant memory. War brings unimaginable suffering and loss, tearing apart families. One day, we dream of waking up in our home without the fear of being bombed, knowing that our country is safe. Until then, we stand in resistance of mind and soul, united in our hope for peace and safety for all.
With heartfelt emotions.
C.
