Mediterranean’s Devastating Storm Daniel May Be Harbinger of Storms to Come

People check an area damaged by flash floods in Derna, eastern Libya, on September 11, 2023. (AFP)
People check an area damaged by flash floods in Derna, eastern Libya, on September 11, 2023. (AFP)
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Mediterranean’s Devastating Storm Daniel May Be Harbinger of Storms to Come

People check an area damaged by flash floods in Derna, eastern Libya, on September 11, 2023. (AFP)
People check an area damaged by flash floods in Derna, eastern Libya, on September 11, 2023. (AFP)

Storm Daniel, which wrought devastation across the Mediterranean in the past week, killed 15 people in central Greece where it dumped more rain than previously recorded before sweeping across to Libya where over 2,500 died in a huge flood.

As the storm moved along the North African coast, Egypt's authorities sought to calm its worried citizens by telling them Daniel had finally lost its strength. "No need to panic!" Al Ahram newspaper wrote in its online English-language edition.

But global warming means the region may have to brace in future for increasingly powerful storms of this kind, the Mediterranean's equivalent of a hurricane known as a "medicane".

"There is consistent evidence that the frequency of medicanes decreases with climate warming, but the strongest medicanes become stronger," said Suzanne Gray from the meteorology department at Britain's University of Reading, citing a report by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change.

For Greece, the storm that formed on Sept. 4 followed a period of blazing heat and wildfires.

In Libya, the town of Derna was deluged by water that flooded down hills into a wadi, a usually dry riverbed, smashing through two catchment dams and sweeping away a quarter of the coastal town.

At least 10,000 people were feared missing, according to the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies.

Climate expert Christos Zerefos, secretary general of the Academy of Athens, said storm data had not been fully compiled yet but he estimated the amount of rain to fall on Libya equaled the 1,000 mm (1 meter) that fell on Thessaly in central Greece in just two days.

He said it was an "unprecedented event" and more rain drenched the area than ever recorded since records began in the mid-19th century.

"We expect such phenomena to happen more often," he added.

But experts said the impact on countries around the Mediterranean would be uneven, proving most destructive to those with the least means to prepare.

Libya, which has endured more than a decade of chaos and conflict and which still does not have a central government that can reach across the country, is particularly at risk.

"The complex political situation and history of protracted conflict in Libya pose challenges for developing risk communication and hazard assessment strategies, coordinating rescue operations, and also potentially for maintenance of critical infrastructure such as dams," said Leslie Mabon, lecturer in environmental systems at The Open University in Britain.

Before Storm Daniel struck, hydrologist Abdelwanees A. R. Ashoor of Libya's Omar Al-Mukhtar University had warned that repeated flooding of the wadi posed a threat to Derna.

Yet even better-resourced Greece struggled to deal with the power of Storm Daniel. Homes were swept away, bridges collapsed, roads destroyed, power lines fell and crops in the fertile Thessaly plain were wiped out.

Greek authorities said on Monday that more than 4,250 people had been evacuated from villages and settlements in the region.



Watching the Sun Rise over a New Damascus

Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
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Watching the Sun Rise over a New Damascus

Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)

After the fall of Bashar al-Assad, Afaf Mohammed did what she could not for more than a decade: she climbed Mount Qasyun to admire a sleeping Damascus "from the sky" and watch the sun rise.

Through the long years of Syria's civil war, which began in 2011 with a government crackdown on pro-democracy protesters, people were not allowed access to the mountain.

But now they can return to look down again on their capital, with its high-rise hotels and poor suburbs exhausted by war.

When night falls, long queues of vehicles slowly make their way up a twisting road to a brightly lit corniche at the summit.

Once there, they can relax, listen to music, eat and, inevitably, take selfies.

On some evenings there have even been firework displays.

Afaf Mohammed told AFP that "during the war we weren't allowed up to Mount Qasyun. There were few public places that were truly accessible."

At her feet, the panorama of Syria's capital stretched far and wide. It was the second time in weeks that the dentist in her thirties had come to the mountaintop.

A man sells tea on Mount Qasyun, from which government artillery used to pound opposition-held areas under Assad's rule. (AFP)

- Ideal for snipers -

Her first was just after a coalition of opposition fighters entered the city, ousting Assad on December 8.

On that occasion she came at dawn.

"I can't describe how I felt after we had gone through 13 years of hardship," she said, wrapped close in an abaya to ward off the chilly breeze.

Qasyun was off limits to the people of Damascus because it was an ideal location for snipers -- the great view includes elegant presidential palaces and other government buildings.

It was also from this mountain that artillery units for years pounded opposition-held areas at the gates of the capital.

Mohammed believes the revolution brought "a phenomenal freedom" that includes the right to visit previously forbidden places.

"No one can stop us now or block our way. No one will harm us," she said.

Patrols from the security forces of Syria's new rulers are in evidence, however.

They look on as a boy plays a tabla drum and young people on folding chairs puff from water pipes as others dance and sing, clapping their hands.

Everything is good-natured, reflecting the atmosphere of freedom that now bathes Syria since the end of Assad rule.

Gone are the stifling restrictions that once ruled the people's lives, and soldiers no longer throng the city streets.

Visitors to Mount Qasyun can now relax, listen to music, eat and snap selfies. (AFP)

- Hot drinks and snacks -

Mohammad Yehia, in his forties, said he once brought his son Rabih up to Mount Qasyun when he was small.

"But he doesn't remember having been here," he said.

After Assad fell, his son "asked if we would be allowed to go up there, and I said, 'Of course'," Yehia added.

So they came the next day.

Yehia knows the place well -- he used to work here, serving hot drinks and snacks from the back of a van to onlookers who came to admire the view.

He prides himself on being one of the first to come back again, more than a decade later.

The closure of Mount Qasyun to the people of Damascus robbed him of his livelihood at a time when the country was in economic freefall under Western sanctions. The war placed a yoke of poverty on 90 percent of the population.

"We were at the suffocation point," Yehia told AFP.

"Even if you worked all day, you still couldn't make ends meet.

"This is the only place where the people of Damascus can come and breathe a little. It's a spectacular view... it can make us forget the worries of the past."

Malak Mohammed, who came up the mountain with her sister Afaf, said that on returning "for the first time since childhood" she felt "immense joy".

"It's as if we were getting our whole country back," Malak said. Before, "we were deprived of everything".