Consider This from NPR - Beirut's Deadly Port Explosion, One Year Later

Episode Date: August 4, 2021

It's been exactly one year since a massive explosion in Beirut's port killed over 200 people, injured thousands and caused billions of dollars in damage. Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

Support for NPR and the following message come from the Kauffman Foundation, providing access to opportunities that help people achieve financial stability, upward mobility, and economic prosperity, regardless of race, gender, or geography. Kauffman.org On the first night of Eid al-Adha last month, a Muslim holiday, people packed Beirut's Cornish, a popular seaside promenade. There's families here, children everywhere. There's just spotted two little girls running around in big white puffy dresses. NPR correspondent Ruth Sherlock

was there to see how everyone was celebrating. Eid is typically a time of prayer, of gift giving, of feasting. How are you experiencing Eid this year? And she met a family of three sisters with their husbands and kids. This year is Eid? Yeah. I mean, Eid is a lot of Eid. No Eid. No Eid.

No. 14-year-old Miriam Sala said, Eid? There is no Eid. When asked if they've done any of the things families typically do at this time, like buy clothes for the children or enjoy a big meal together, the question itself seemed totally ridiculous to them. No, no, no. We haven't had sheep or chicken or burgers or anything, said Salah's aunt, Abir El-Masri.

All of that is too expensive now. She joked, we're just smoking shisha right now so we can blow away our frustration. Lebanon is in the middle of a staggering economic crisis. Banks have frozen accounts, meaning people can't even access their own money. A once healthy middle class has been gutted. Evictions are rising and UNICEF, the United Nations Children's Agency, says more than 70% of the country can't afford to buy food. You don't take anything without any problem.

Ahmed Hussaini is an unemployed chef. It takes hours to get just the basics now. Yeah, and it costs too much. Government officials say Lebanon is out of money, and donor countries don't want to give more until Lebanon addresses rampant corruption, which is why these families were left to celebrate Eid in the dark. Literally, the street lamps above their heads were broken. to corruption, which is why these families were left to celebrate Eid in the dark.

Literally, the street lamps above their heads were broken. What only makes matters worse is what happened exactly one year ago today, just a few miles east of this spot. An explosion in Beirut's port killed more than 200 people, injured thousands, and caused billions of dollars in damage. Consider this. One year after the deadly explosion in Lebanon's capital city, those who survived are still waiting for justice. All while their country is facing one of the worst economic crises the world has seen in more than 200 years. From NPR, I'm Elsa Chang. It's Wednesday, August 4th. Support for this podcast and the following message come from Nature Valley Granola Bars, who believes the best energy comes from nature.

Whether you want to relieve stress or re-energize after a long day, Nature Valley invites you to take in the outdoors, starting with this nature break. For more, visit TakeInTheOutdoors.com. NPR's Planet Money Summer School is now in session. Everything you want to know about investing from expert guest professors. New classes every Wednesday till Labor Day in the Planet Money podcast feed. It's Consider This from NPR. Ruth Sherlock, our correspondent in Beirut,

says you can measure the economic collapse of Lebanon by the hours of time wasted just trying to get through the basics of life. I've watched people wait in line, sometimes from dawn at gas stations just to try to get fuel. I've seen people waiting whole days in mile-long queues on the highway. Sometimes they collapse from the blistering heat

because they don't have the fuel to keep the AC on in the car whilst they're waiting. I talked with Ruth about what it's been like to watch and live through such a devastating transformation. She says perhaps even worse than fuel and food shortages are the empty pharmacy shelves. Even basic painkillers are nowhere to be found. So people go from pharmacy to pharmacy just hoping to find essential medication. I've watched people collapse in tears of desperation because they just can't get the medication they need.

And overall, the medical infrastructure is falling apart with hospitals shutting down. And then on top of all this are the power cuts. The state provides only a few hours of electricity a day now. Generators used to fill that gap, but they don't have the diesel they need to keep running. So there are cuts for hours in the day and the night, which is awful because it is so hot over here and people can't sleep. You know, so basically all the basics of life are becoming really hard and it's misery upon misery. And that's on top of people losing the value of their salaries. Yeah, let's talk about that because I heard the World Bank has said this economic crisis is one of the worst the world has ever seen since the 1800s. What's made this

crisis so devastating? Well, Lebanon's central bank, backed by politicians, was running what economists have described essentially as a Ponzi scheme, where they were offering these sky-high interest rates, you know, as high as 15-20% to attract dollar investors. But that and other practices were unsustainable. And suddenly, you know, eventually this resulted in a huge economic collapse. In response to that, the banks then froze people's dollar accounts, meaning Lebanese could no longer access their own money. And then the currency collapsed. So now the Lebanese lira has lost 90 percent of its value. This means prices have risen, but people's salaries are staying the same.

So to give you one example, baby milk now costs, you know, approximately a quarter of what a teacher earns here in a month. Wow. Yeah. I mean, even people who are middle class now can barely afford the basics. I've watched people driving BMW SUVs wait in line for food aid of rice and sunflower oil. Wow, what an image. Well, then you have this massive explosion at Beirut's port. Today's the anniversary of that. How did that explosion exacerbate what was already happening in Lebanon? Yeah, and I mean, to talk about that explosion, you know, that was one of the largest non-nuclear blasts in history. It devastated whole parts of Beirut, and much of that damage remains. So, you know, parts of downtown Beirut seem frozen in time with these

shop fronts all smashed up just like they were the day of the blast. And then there's the human loss and shock to the population. 218 people lost their lives in that explosion and thousands lost their homes. So there is huge rage at the country's leaders over the failures and criminal negligence that led to this. Today, clashes actually started just around our bureau, which is in a neighbourhood that was badly damaged by the blast. There's guys throwing rocks, guys with balaclavas. Elsewhere, there were huge peaceful protests that took place, with families of the victims marching to the port, which was the site of the explosion, for a vigil there. But the situation is really tense. That deadly explosion in Beirut one year ago did a lot to make a bad economic situation even worse.

But it has also left thousands of people searching for answers. Government officials have stonewalled investigations into the disaster. So for the families of the victims, there hasn't been any justice. Photos hang on the wall in Rosalind Bezjan's home of her and her sister smiling at their graduations. Ruth Sherlock visited with a sister of one of those victims. On a table next to where Rosalind sits are more framed pictures and mementos from Jessica's life, her university badge, her nursing ID. To Rosalind, Jessica was her soulmate.

We're more than sisters, more than best friends. Just like soulmates, yeah. Jessica was just 22 when the blast ripped through the hospital where she was working as a psychiatric nurse. Some days, Rosalind misses her younger sister so much, she sends messages to her Instagram account just to feel close to her. A year on, she still sets a plate for Jessica at the family table. I don't know what to say because we're not getting used to this idea. I'm in denial to now. I always say she's coming. She will open the door and come here and say, I made it. Yeah. Rosalind's situation is the same as the hundreds of others whose loved ones were taken from them as the shockwave from the Beirut port explosion devastated homes, offices and hospitals.

They are haunted by that terrible day. Rosalind still has nightmares from watching her sister Jessica die on a hospital gurney as a friend and colleague fought to give her CPR. Then now, before I sleep, or in the middle of my dream, fought to give her CPR. And the ongoing lack of justice around the blast makes it all the more impossible to move on. The explosion happened when hundreds of tons of ammonium nitrate, stored alongside fuses and fireworks in a warehouse at Beirut Port, ignited. Leaked documents and even some of their own statements indicate that Lebanon's leaders,

including the president and the prime minister at the time, were warned of the dangers and failed to act. And yet, a year on, not one senior official has been prosecuted. Instead, an investigative judge has been removed and Parliament has refused to lift immunity laws protecting top officials. Human Rights Watch this week said the investigation is quote, incapable of credibly delivering justice. The government has provided almost no help to those who lost their homes or were injured.

And Rosalind Bezjan says leaders have failed even to recognize people's pain. Till now no one said, no one apologized, no one called families to say we are sorry for your loss. Till now? Yes, till now no one called, no one. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, because they think if they do, the meaning of apologising means they accepting what they did. When Jessica died, the Bezjans decided her funeral should be like the wedding she would never have. All of the people wore white and all the flowers, everything with it, just like a small wedding, with the white flowers everywhere

and balloons and everything. They meant to symbolize the future that Jessica had lost. A year on, with no hope for justice and the country's economy collapsed, many feel Lebanon's future is lost too. That's NPR correspondent Ruth Sherlock from Beirut you're listening to Consider This from NPR I'm Elsa Chang