No Answers-BI

It was a day I won’t forget when I opened my eyes and saw my mum coming in and out of my bedroom. She would look at me, leave, come back, and then come back again. Talking to herself and leaving again, she was like a stem of a smooth tree in a storm, staying still and rooted while everything around her was in chaos. I never saw my mum like this before. I sat up in my bed and asked her:

“Mum, what’s wrong?”

“They bombed the airport.”

“Who?”

“Israel.”

“Why?”

“Because of the two soldiers that were captured yesterday.”

“So, mum, what will happen?”

“I really don’t know.” Something in my mum’s eyes made me feel that there was something very wrong on the 12th of July.

The first thing we did was call or relatives who lived in Da7ye and ask them to come over because our house was safer. At 10am they refused. At 12am they were knocking at our door.

“Ok, well have lunch together then we’ll leave.” Unluckily this lunch lasted 22 days, because our relatives weren’t able to go home, of course because of the bombing. Every hour the situation became worse and worse. It was real war. I spent 22 days in Beirut listening to countless bombs and watching TV. Days were terrible, boring and frightening nights were even worse.

Never can I forget the time with my sister and two cousins and midnight lighting our candles, opening the Koran, and asking God to let these Israeli planes pass without bombing our building. We’re still too young to be killed. Even we are angels and angels aren’t to be killed. Everyday was worse than the one before. No more fuel, no electricity, no water and no space— it was too crowded. Minutes were like hours and days were like months. I listened to the news for the first time in my life. Opening our ears for any end to this war, closing my eyes with every wounded baby I saw on TV. On the second of August, I was out with my dad when mum called scared:

“Beirut is going to get bombed.”

“Who said so?”

“I heard it on TV.”

“So...what should we do?!?”

“Let’s leave to our village, it might be safer.”

We hurried home, packed our stuff with our relatives and made our way to Shouf. Will I ever go back to my home? If yes, when? This was a war with no answers. It was a matter of luck reaching our village safely. The road was very dangerous. It was already bombed the first week of the war. I was gazing at all the shattered remains of at least ten bridges I passed by. They were all down. Black stones were like ghosts. Finally after two hours, we reached our village safely. The situation in my village, Joun, was different from in Beirut.

Since I reached there, I decided to play a positive role in this war. I wanted to help. There were many organizations that helped people who left their villages and went to Joun, so I picked one. We had over three hundred families that ran away to Joun. Each morning, I washed up and went with my friends. Before noon, we used to distribute food in schools, play with some kids and do some activities. At noon, we cleaned the streets, but at night it was my free time. I really missed being free. The truth be told, I started to forget about the war. I became more mature and learned to hold more responsibilities through these experiences.

My life in Joun was more comfortable than that in Beirut. There, I felt like a prisoner in jail. Days took the same routine until the 13th of august. While distributing food for the families in Joun’s Public School, we heard a terrible sound. They bombed Joun! No place seemed safe anymore, danger was following everyone. We started running on the streets, not knowing where we should go. Should we go back to Beirut? Should we find a shelter in Joun itself? Am I going to die her? Questions were left with no answers. Suddenly, I saw my mum running towards me with tears running down from her eyes:

“Berna! My lovely daughter! Thank God!” She put me on her legs for several hours. I was like a kangaroo in its mothers lap, gazing at the sky praying endless prayers. Confusion, fear, and shock… all of our faces had the same expressions.

On the 14th of August, the nightmare ended and we were back home in Beirut. On our way home, we passed through Da7ye. I was shocked. The Da7ye was like a mother who lost all her children and was now weeping for them. Even the stones, the buildings and the sand in Da7ye seemed to be crying. I was able to smell death everywhere. While children were killed like ants and buildings were demolished like bones, in one second, everything changed. It was a disgusting war, and I hope it never comes back.