Lebanon, a beautiful Mediterranean country, is cursed by an untold legend, one that manifests in confessionalism and corruption, but has haunted the country for centuries. Since its independence in 1943, Lebanon has known no rest: wars, crises, and ongoing local and regional conflicts. And to this day, nothing has changed. The surrealism we live in is beyond reason. As citizens, we have been labeled warriors – something we have also become – fighting for our lives and for a future we know nothing about; a doomed fate we’re trying to survive in every way possible.
Since 2020, we’ve wrestled with the global pandemic, watched our economy crumble, endured the aftermath of the Beirut Port blast and lived through the devastating war of 2024. For many, these burdens were too heavy to handle. Others live with the scars. But collectively, here or elsewhere, we are all victims of an unjust system, one that values nepotism and confessionalism over basic rights.
What can I say about these past five years that would do justice to what we’ve survived, and to those who never gave up, who are standing still despite everything we’ve been through?
Coronavirus, Beirut Port Explosion, and economic collapse
October 17, 2019 – a time of hope, a revolution against political corruption, a dream that everyone was excited to participate in. I joined the protests a couple of times. It felt, to me, like a miracle to see people finally raising their voices against corruption and system failure; our hopes were high back then. The scenes in Beirut, and later, all over Lebanon, were impressive and unforgettable – people from different areas, sects, backgrounds, and communities marched for change, for proper healthcare, job opportunities, 24/24 electricity supply. For basic human rights that Lebanese people have been deprived of for years. What happened in the months that followed was disappointing for many. Several people on the ground protesting were subject to cruel forms of oppression from militias and the government alike. We were banned from taking to the streets, from raising our voices.
Then, the Coronavirus took the world by surprise, preventing thousands of people from going back to the streets again. We were locked up in our houses for months. But despite exhaustion, COVID, and police brutality, some protesters kept gathering and pushing for change as soon as lockdown measures began to ease. For many, the October 17 uprising was a powerful moment, a turning point in Lebanese politics and society. It changed people’s mentality and created a sense of unity, resilience, and determination to reclaim the power of authority that was taken from us for years.
For two years, the COVID pandemic became a global nightmare – lockdowns, isolation, remote work, and avoiding mass gatherings. I was still a student, studying English literature at the Lebanese University, forced, like many others, to attend classes from behind a screen. Everyone was fearful of catching the virus. With little information and the majority of us living with our parents, this unknown mutant became an unwanted guest. Going to exams was an actual risk. We had to be very careful. It was an experience we had never been through before. A lot of people who work in services had to continue their jobs. So did doctors and nurses, those whom we can never thank enough for their service. Despite measures – locally and internationally – people around the world were vulnerable, and many fell victim to the virus. Thousands of Lebanese from all ages died. It was a global disaster. But our healthcare system wasn’t of any help. It was already suffering from the collapse of the Lebanese pound; private hospitals were only accessible to the rich, while middle class and poor people were left to die at home, unable to pay the huge bills that come with private healthcare.
Around a year later, the vaccine started to roll out, and with it, campaigns by governments advocating for it. In Lebanon, the government worked with different healthcare providers, non-governmental entities as well as hospitals to raise awareness through online and TV ads. Some were relieved that a cure had been found, others skeptical.
While one catastrophe was slowly ending, another was taking center-stage. On August 4, 2020, Beirut was shaken to its core. Those who happened to be at home rushed to check the news.
It was a brutal wound in our collective memory that we’ll carry with us until death. At 6:07 PM, my house was stormed by the horrible sound of the explosion. I saw death, and felt as though my life flashed before my eyes. The window above my bed crashed and somehow, I survived a severe injury. My soul shook for what felt like centuries. Everything became blurred to me. It was traumatizing, not just for me, but for my friends, my neighbors, and everyone I know. Sometimes, in my sleep or when I’m out walking, I can still hear the sound clearly in my head. Sometimes it comes to me in nightmares, suffocating me in my sleep. To this day, I carry the memory of that sound and the mental breakdown that followed. I wish it didn’t happen. I wish these young faces we lost could have been with us, where they belong, living happily with their families, building the future they always wanted to have. I wish those responsible would be held responsible. I wish, but the tragedy is real.
More than two hundred innocent people were killed in Beirut, and still, no one knows the exact details or who’s really behind it. When it happened, fingers were quick to point to the other side, but five years later, and still no answers. Justice hasn’t been served yet. As time passes, I expect the wounds to heal, but they haven’t. We won’t forget, we won’t forgive. “My Government Did This!” is the only truth written on the walls of Beirut, crying for justice in a hopeless land.
In parallel, the country was going through a total collapse of its entire system. All sectors fell down like dominos. Many families lost access to quality education as teachers fled and the cost of education skyrocketed, the already-crumbling healthcare system weakened with doctors emigrating, and trust in banks evaporated as the financial system faltered. The damage is still deeply felt today. Lebanese lives have drastically changed: people’s savings in the banks vanished, basic necessities are not always available, and salaries cannot afford any of our needs because of the currency collapse.
While it’s been a long standing problem for years, lack of electricity and blackouts spread across the country dramatically in 2021. I remember well the sleepless nights in the middle of the hot summer with no fan or air conditioner. I had it easier than some, as others had to spend their nights on the roof of their homes to get some cool fresh air. Meanwhile, those with enough capital turned to solar energy, sparking a new business in Lebanon. Yet this option remained out of reach for most, due to its high cost. Long story short, 2021 was disastrous.
In that darkness, I found myself in the middle of nowhere, trying to escape this bleak forest that kept dragging me down without mercy. It felt like the weight of everything happening around me was closing in, and some days I struggled just to keep moving forward. Yet, amid the darkness, I also found moments of unexpected strength and energy to survive and live day by day, like prayer, taking walks, and prioritizing writing and reading. These are the things that keep my soul alive.
War and uncertain future
As the days went on, we grew eerily accustomed to the ongoing crises. A lot of people started to see the ‘green grass’ on the other side, investing in opening up businesses or making big plans. We told ourselves this would be the end of our painful cycle. But, as life often cruelly reminds us, its irony is as profound as its unpredictability.
After the Toufan Al Aqsa on October 7, 2023, Hezbollah entered the conflict from southern Lebanon. The South was heavily bombed, with thousands of lives lost, and Lebanon found itself deeply drawn into the war. Lebanese lives were once again threatened by fear from Israeli strikes and sonic booms. The sounds made my heart and body shiver. Every time I heard the roar of fighter jets, I closed my eyes as if the nightmare of the Beirut port explosion came to me in flashbacks.
The situation in Lebanon was so much worse than ever before, as Israeli strikes spread across the south, north, and Beirut, claiming over 3,000 lives according to the Health Ministry. The war lasted weeks, targeting Hezbollah fighters, officials, and leaders anywhere they existed. Hitting the heart of Beirut caused terror among many living there and around the area; some families found themselves fleeing to mountain towns and villages seeking safety and refuge, while others chose to take boats to Cyprus. My family and I stayed home in Beirut. I used to hear the sounds of strikes and explosions while doing some freelance writing work at night. I found faith in the heart of the storm, amidst the war. Praying became the only solace to ease my anxious mind.
Today, Lebanon has entered a new era. With a new president and prime minister elected, and with all the international support the country is getting, hope for a better tomorrow has returned to fill my soul with a sense of peace and calm. While a lot of people are rightfully skeptical, as the Southern borders are still bombed by the enemy, as we continue to hear the low rumble of the MK in Beirut’s sky and as prices sky rocket with little to no changes in health, education or electricity, there are those who choose to put their faith in this country. So much so, some people have decided to return not just for the summer, but forever. Despite it all, we’re here to stay – this is what they’re saying, what I’m saying too.
Writing about these experiences, recalling and remembering the feelings of fear and terror that have lived inside me is not easy. It takes real courage to think about it all over again and describe what I’ve seen with every single feeling that bitters my heart. But, sharing them is a relief to the soul, and a message to the world of how much Lebanese people had to endure since 2020, and how they continue to survive all hardships in one of the most difficult periods in the country’s modern history.
