A car bomb exploded in the Hezbollah district of Beirut tonight, killing 14 people and injuring 212, according to al-Manar, Hezbollah’s TV station.
Al-Jazeera is reporting 20 dead, but they always seem to be on the high side of numbers. Here’s the surreal experience I had: After canceling my trip to Baghdad and reading about another series of car bombs that detonated today (one of which exploded 300 yards from the Green Zone, where I would have likely been on my first day to get paperwork giving permission for my translator, driver and fixer to accompany me), I spent a day online undoing the last 7 months of work while ensconced in the idyllic, cool hills high above Beirut. Toward sunset, my friends David and Judy took me to a neighbor’s for a swim and happy hour. As I was pouring wine, I heard what only made sense to be a loud thunderclap, but clearly wasn’t as there was no rain in sight and it was far too loud. I looked over the edge of the hills toward downtown Beirut, but there was too much haze to see anything. A few minutes later, a neighbor dropped by and announced she had seen the explosion’s plume of smoke from her balcony. “Loudest I’ve ever heard,” she said, checking her cellphone. A friend called to report the explosion was in the Hezbollah section of town and the Red Cross reported dozens injured. The friend’s husband called from Jeddah, Saudi Arabia to report that the only news getting out was via Hezbollah’s controlled TV station, al-Manar. With nothing else to say, we calmly sipped cocktails at the edge of an infinity pool overlooking the
bomb smoke plume that bruised the sunset while 8 miles below us, families
grieved.
The horizontal black line underneath the sunset is a plume of smoke from a car bomb explosion from miles away in Beirut on Aug 15.
“With nothing else to say, we calmly sipped cocktails at the edge of an infinity pool overlooking the bomb smoke plume that bruised the sunset while 8 miles below us, families grieved.”
Wow! That says it so eloquently and poetically, Kelly. It’s kind of how the world outside of the Middle East experiences the horrors reported in the media. I’m glad you are safe.
Thanks, Susan, for understanding what I was intending by writing this. I hesitated, not wanting to appear callous or disrespectful of my hosts (who are the most caring and gracious people I’ve met). They’ve been through this more times than they care to remember and have their own stories…
Hola Kelly, Enshalla all will continue to be safe for you. I agree with Susan, you portrayed your situation eloquently, but the bomb did forever shatter the lives of others and those of us who sit thousands of miles away have not any idea of the strife and difficulties of others. I am truly sorry you were unable to go to Bagdhad and report on life there, but then I am more happy that you are safe.
Will see you when you return to Mexico,
Viad con dios!
Herbert, our mutual dear friend Margie Keane wrote me (and gave me permission to post her response):
With nothing else to say, we calmly sipped cocktails at the edge of an infinity pool overlooking the bomb smoke plume that bruised the sunset while 8 miles below us, families grieved.
Doesn’t this sound a bit cavalier to you? You are calmly sipping cocktails while people below you are being killed?
Margie
My response to her:
My point exactly! Cavalier, numbed, helpless, folks here have lived with these bombings for decades….And probably not dissimilar from the reactions of people sitting in the States clucking at the TV set while cracking another beer….
My point is this: It is so tragically difficult to fully feel the pain and fear of those who live with the possibility of bombings on a regular basis that we (Americans) instinctively numb it out. Most Americans have not experienced this — nor should we! — nor should anyone!
I’m glad for this exchange. More comments, please!