BEIRUT (AP) – Joana Dagher was lying unconscious and bleeding under a pile of rubbish in her apartment after the large Beirut harbor exploded on the brink of death in August.
She survived because of the courage of her husband who took her out, the kindness of a stranger who transported her in his damaged car and the help of her sisters during the chaos in the overwhelming hospital.
But Dagher remembers nothing of it: The 33-year-old mother of two lost her memory for two months due to the trauma she suffered during the explosion, including a cerebral 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,” she added, referring to neighbors who died in the blast. “I lost my mental health and so I lost everything.”
The Beirut explosion, which killed more than 200 people and injured more than 6,000, caused injuries on an even wider scale to the mental health of those who went through it.
Dagher gradually regained her memory. But another kind of pain remains.
Although therapy is helping now, she said she no longer feels the same. Dagher is usually a calm and independent person, her sister Jihane said. Now she experiences outbursts of anger and tension, is emotionally turned off and sometimes becomes aggressive – according to experts, all signs of post-traumatic stress disorder.
“The last six months have been a purgatory,” Jihane said. “When you see someone you love so much, everyone suffers together, you are helpless.”
The blast was caused by a fire that ignited nearly 3,000 tons of ammonium nitrate. stored in a port warehouse. One of the largest non-nuclear explosions ever recorded tore power through the city, sending people leaving rooms and cutting them with flying glass. Windows and doors were blown miles away from the epicenter.
Even in a country that has experienced many wars and bombings, never before have so many people – tens of thousands – experienced the same traumatic event at the same time.
On top of that, there was the tension that Lebanese were already feeling because of various crises, including an unprecedented economic collapse, the coronavirus pandemic and a sense of helplessness after nationwide anti-corruption protests that failed to achieve their goals.
“There are very high levels of anxiety and worry in the entire population,” said Mia Atwi, psychologist and president of Embrace, an organization working on mental health awareness and support. “There is a low mood that borders on clinical depression for the majority of the population.”
The demand for therapists has increased, making it difficult to find treatment, especially as many qualified experts leave the country.
Embrace expanded its clinic after the blast and still has a waiting list of 60 people. It has supported 750 people since the blast. Most experience symptoms after explosion, depression and anxiety, Atwi said. On Embrace’s helpline, 67% of calls since August are from people in emotional distress, and 28% have had suicidal thoughts.
The blast left mental wounds even in those it did not physically wound.
Najla Fadel, 33, was miraculously not scratched when the explosion broke the glass windows of her home and seriously injured her babysitter. In the last months of her pregnancy with her second child, Fadel transported the bleeding woman to the hospital alone.
She has been struggling with nightmares ever since. She wakes up regularly, heart palpitations, and thinks the explosion happened again.
“I jump on any sound and start seeking shelter,” she says.
The worst, she said, are thunderstorms and the sound of Israeli warplanes regularly crossing Lebanon’s airspace and flying low.
“A few nights ago, when planes were flying over Beirut, I was sleeping in the corridor,” she said. “That way I’m halfway from my kids’ room, I can grab them faster and run in case.”
Fadel visited a therapist for a while. Many others do not get help.
“There are a lot of people who are neglecting their mental health or do not know what to do,” said Souraya Frem, president and co-founder of Cenacle De Lumiere, an organization that began offering free mental health support in Beirut after the blast. .
“People are struggling with poverty, how can they cope and therefore do not consider mental health a priority,” Frem said.
From Perth, Australia, where she moved to after the blast, Sarah Copland said she saw two therapists coping with her loss.
In the blast, a shattered glass tore through the small breast of her 2-year-old son, Isaac, ending his short life. That day, she said, her life came to a standstill.
“My last image of my boy is something a mother should never see,” she said. ‘It comes to me when I least expect it, we’re going to do something, and it’s coming. This is very disturbing. ”
At the time, Copland was employed by the UN in Beirut. Thousands of miles from Lebanon haunt the memory of her.
“The sight or sound of broken glass gives me anxiety,” she said. ‘When I lie in bed at night, I hear the wind against the windows and it really scares me. I freeze because it reminds me of the whining sound when the explosion came through our windows. ‘
Copland’s two-month-old son Ethan keeps her going, she said, but the pain is deep. “To hear children scream, even if it’s nice, take me back to the hospital, to Isaac and to the children screaming in pain.”
Now in a temporary apartment outside Beirut, Joana Dagher has decided to stay in Lebanon, despite the thousands leaving.
“I want to be close to those I love, my family and I will not allow those politicians to remove me from my home or my country; I will stay here to see justice,” she said.
But like most survivors of that horrible day, there is a fear that will never leave her. “The fear of losing those I love is stronger than ever.”