Desperation amid Search for Survivors of an Israeli Airstrike on a Crowded Area Near Major Beirut Hospital

A view shows a site damaged in an Israeli strike near Rafik Hariri University Hospital, amid ongoing hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, in Beirut, Lebanon October 22, 2024. (Reuters)
A view shows a site damaged in an Israeli strike near Rafik Hariri University Hospital, amid ongoing hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, in Beirut, Lebanon October 22, 2024. (Reuters)
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Desperation amid Search for Survivors of an Israeli Airstrike on a Crowded Area Near Major Beirut Hospital

A view shows a site damaged in an Israeli strike near Rafik Hariri University Hospital, amid ongoing hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, in Beirut, Lebanon October 22, 2024. (Reuters)
A view shows a site damaged in an Israeli strike near Rafik Hariri University Hospital, amid ongoing hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, in Beirut, Lebanon October 22, 2024. (Reuters)

Nearly 16 hours after an Israeli airstrike hit across the street from Beirut’s main public hospital, rescuers were still removing debris Tuesday from the overcrowded slum area. An excavator was digging at one of the destroyed buildings, picking out twisted metal and bricks in search for bodies.

Residents standing on mounds of debris said an entire family remained missing under the rubble.

Mohammad Ibrahim, a Sudanese national, came looking for his brother. “His mobile phone is still ringing. We are trying to search for him,” he said. “I don’t know if he is dead or alive.”

Hours later, health officials said five bodies had been recovered from under the rubble. At least 18 people were killed, including four children, and at least 60 wounded in the strike that also caused damage across the street at the Rafik Hariri University Hospital, the capital’s main public medical facility.

Jihad Saadeh, director of the Rafik Hariri Hospital, said the strike broke several glass windows and the solar panels of the medical facility, which continued to operate despite the damage and the panic. None of the staff was injured.

Saadeh said the hospital received no warning of the impending strike, just a few meters (yards) across the street. Neither did the residents of the slum area, where several buildings were crammed and which houses several migrant workers as well as working class Lebanese.

The Israeli military said it struck a Hezbollah target, without elaborating. It added it had not targeted the hospital itself.

It was hard for rescue equipment to reach the area of clustered settlements and dusty narrow roads.

Nizar, one of the rescuers, said he had been at the site of the explosion since Monday night. “It was too dark and there was so much panic,” he said, giving only his first name in line with the rescue team’s regulations. “People didn’t understand yet what had happened.”

The overcrowded slum was covered in debris, furniture and remains of life poking out of the twisted metal and broken bricks. Residents who survived the massive explosion were still in shock, some still searching through the debris with their hands for their relatives or what is left of their lives. Gunmen stood guard at the site. The Lebanese Civil Defense said Tuesday five buildings were destroyed and 12 sustained severe damage. The dead included one Sudanese and at least one Syrian.

“This is a very crowded area; buildings are very close. The destruction is massive,” Nizar said, explaining that the scale of the damage made their rescue effort harder.

Across the street, the hospital was still treating a few of the injured. The morgue had received 13 bodies.

Hussein al-Ali, a nurse who was there when the attack happened, said it took him a few minutes to realize it was not the hospital that was hit. Dust and smoke covered the hospital lobby. The glass in the dialysis unit, the pharmacy and other rooms in the hospital was shattered. The false roof fell over his and his colleagues' heads.

“We were terrified. This is a crime,” said al-Ali. “It felt like judgement day.”

It took only minutes for the injured from across the street to start streaming in. Al-Ali said he had little time to breathe or reassure his terrified colleagues and the rattled patients.

“Staff and patients thought the strike was here. We fled outside as the injured were coming in,” he said. And when he was done admitting the injured, “we came out to carry our (killed) neighbors. They are our neighbors.”

Ola Eid survived the strike. She helped dig out her neighbors’ children from under the rubble, before realizing she herself was injured.

“The problem is we didn’t feel it. They didn’t inform us. We heard they want to strike al-Sahel hospital,” said Eid, bandaged and still in shock sitting at the hospital gate. Israel had hinted another hospital miles away could possibly be a target, alleging it is housing tunnels used by the Hezbollah group.

Eid, an actor, said she was playing with her neighbor’s kids when the first explosion hit. It knocked her to the floor and scattered the candy she was handing out to the kids. She stood up, not believing she was still alive, to find her neighbor’s kid soaked in blood. One was killed immediately; the other remained in intensive care.

“I looked ahead and saw the kids torn apart and hurt,” she said. “The gas canisters were on fire. I didn’t know what to do — put out the fire or remove the kids.”



Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood

Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood
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Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood

Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood

In eastern Lebanon's city of Baalbek, the Jawhari family gathered around a gaping crater where their home once stood, tears streaming as they tried to make sense of the destruction.

“It is heart-breaking. A heartache that there is no way we will ever recover from,” said Lina Jawhari, her voice breaking as she hugged relatives who came to support the family. “Our world turned upside down in a second.”

The home, which was a gathering place for generations, was reduced to rubble by an Israeli airstrike on Nov. 1, leaving behind shattered memories and twisted fragments of a once-vibrant life.

The family, like thousands of Lebanese, were returning to check on their properties after the US-mediated ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah went into effect early Wednesday.

Intense Israeli airstrikes over the past two months leveled entire neighborhoods in eastern and southern Lebanon, as well as the southern suburbs of Beirut. Nearly 1.2 million people have been displaced.

The airstrikes have left a massive trail of destruction across the country.

A photo of the Jawhari family's home — taken on a phone by Louay Mustafa, Lina’s nephew — is a visual reminder of what had been. As the family sifted through the rubble, each fragment recovered called them to gather around it.

A worn letter sparked a collective cheer, while a photo of their late father triggered sobs. Reda Jawhari had built the house for his family and was a craftsman who left behind a legacy of metalwork. The sisters cried and hoped to find a piece of the mosque-church structure built by their father. Minutes later, they lifted a mangled piece of metal from the debris. They clung to it, determined to preserve a piece of his legacy.

“Different generations were raised with love... Our life was music, dance, dabke (traditional dance). This is what the house is made up of. And suddenly, they destroyed our world. Our world turned upside down in a second. It is inconceivable. It is inconceivable," Lina said.

Despite their determination, the pain of losing their home and the memories tied to it remains raw.

Rouba Jawhari, one of four sisters, had one regret.

“We are sad that we did not take my mom and dad’s photos with us. If only we took the photos,” she said, clutching an ID card and a bag of photos and letters recovered from the rubble. “It didn’t cross our mind. We thought it’s two weeks and we will be back.”

The airstrike that obliterated the Jawhari home came without warning, striking at 1:30 p.m. on what was otherwise an ordinary Friday.

Their neighbor, Ali Wehbe, also lost his home. He had stepped out for food a few minutes before the missile hit and rushed back to find his brother searching for him under the rubble.

“Every brick holds a memory,” he said, gesturing to what remained of his library. “Under every book you would find a story.”