BEIRUT (AP) – Joana Dagher was left unconscious and bleeding under a pile of rubble in her apartment after the massive explosion at the port of Beirut in August, on the verge of death.
She survived because of her husband’s courage in getting her out, the kindness of a stranger who transported her to his damaged car, and the help of her sisters during the chaos of the crowded hospital.
But Dagher doesn’t remember any of that: The 33-year-old mother lost her memory for two full months due to the trauma she suffered in the blast, including a brain contusion and brain injuries.
“I lost my life on August 4,” Dagher said. “I lost my house, I lost my memory, I lost two friends,” he added, referring to the neighbors killed in the blast. “I lost my mental health and therefore I lost everything.”
The Beirut explosion, which killed more than 200 people and injured more than 6,000, caused injuries on an even larger scale in the mental health of those who experienced it.
Dagher is slowly recovering his memory. But another kind of pain persists.
Although therapy now helps, he said he no longer feels the same. Dagher is usually a calm, independent person, his sister Jihane said. He now experiences bursts of anger and stress, stopping emotionally and sometimes aggressively, all signs of a post-traumatic stress disorder, according to experts.
“The last 6 months have been a purgatory,” Jihane said. “When you see that someone you love suffers so much, everyone suffers with him, you’re powerless.”
The explosion was caused by a fire that ignited about 3,000 tons of ammonium nitrate stored in a port warehouse. One of the largest non-nuclear explosions ever recorded, the force broke into the city, sending people flying through the rooms and cutting them with flying glass.. The windows and doors blew away miles from the epicenter.
Even in a country that has experienced many wars and bombings, never have so many people (tens of thousands) directly experienced the same traumatic event at the same time.
It added to the stress the Lebanese were already feeling due to multiple crises, including an unprecedented economic collapse, the coronavirus pandemic and a sense of powerlessness after national anti-corruption protests that failed to achieve their goals.
“There are very high levels of anxiety and worry throughout the population,” said Mia Atwi, a psychologist and president of Embrace, an organization that works on awareness and support for mental health. “There is a low mood bordering on clinical depression for the majority of the population.”
The demand for therapists has grown, making it difficult to find treatment, especially because many qualified experts are leaving the country.
Embrace expanded its clinic after the explosion and still has a waiting list of 60 people. Since the explosion it has provided support to 750 people. Most experience post-explosion symptoms, depression and anxiety, Atwi said. On the Embrace helpline, 67% of phone calls since August come from people in emotional distress and 28% had suicidal thoughts.
The explosion left mental wounds even in those who were not physically injured.
Najla Fadel, 33, was miraculously unmatched when the blast shattered the windows of her home and seriously injured her son’s nanny. In the final months of her pregnancy with her second child, Fadel transported the bleeding woman to the hospital alone.
He has since struggled with nightmares. He often wakes up, his heart pounding, thinking the explosion has happened again.
“I jump at any sound and start looking for shelter,” she says.
He said the worst are the storms and the sound of Israeli warplanes regularly raping and flying low through Lebanon airspace.
“A few nights ago, when planes hovered over Beirut, I slept in the hallway,” he said. “That way I’m halfway out of my kids’ room, I can catch them faster and run just in case.”
Fadel saw a therapist for a while. Many others do not receive help.
“There are a lot of people who neglect their mental health or don’t know what to do,” said Souraya Frem, president and co-founder of Cenacle De Lumiere, an organization that after the explosion began offering free mental health support in Beirut .
“People are fighting poverty, the way to do it and they don’t see mental health as a priority,” Frem said.
From Perth, Australia, where she moved after the blast, Sarah Copland said she has been seeing two therapists to deal with her loss.
In the explosion, a fragment of glass shattered the small chest of his two-year-old son, Isaac, who ended his short life. That day, he said, his life stagnated.
“My last picture of my little boy is something a mother should never see,” she said. “That comes to my mind when I least expect it: we’ll do something and it will come. It’s very distressing.”
At the time, Copland was employed by the UN in Beirut. Thousands of miles from Lebanon, the memory haunts her.
“The sight or sound of broken glass makes me anxious,” he said. “Lying in bed at night, I feel the wind against the windows and that really scares me. I freeze because it reminds me of the eager sound when the explosion came through our windows. ”
Ethan, Copland’s 2-month-old son, Ethan, keeps her going, she said, but the pain is deep. “Hearing screams of children, even if I’m delighted, brings me back to the hospital, Isaac and the children screaming in pain.”
Now, in a temporary apartment on the outskirts of Beirut, Joana Dagher decided to stay in Lebanon, despite the thousands leaving.
“I want to be close to those I love, to my family and I will not let these politicians take me out of my house or my country, I will stay here to see justice,” he said.
But, like most survivors of that horrible day, there is a fear that never leaves her. “The fear of losing those I love is stronger than ever.”