In the Lebanese war, which alternated between civil war and Israeli aggression, there were many situations where people’s true colours showed — some altruistic and some completely absurd.
During times of intense shelling or Israeli air strikes on Beirut, we would gather in shelters. People’s true nature would be revealed in these moments of panic, highlighting their vulnerability or resilience. This holds true for anyone under bombardment, anywhere in the world.
During the war, I lived with my family in a neighbourhood in the Mazraa area, close to the Mir Bashir barracks and a short distance from the Lebanese University buildings, in what is still referred to as West Beirut.
Amid a series of bombings, I found myself alone with my daughter in Beirut while the rest of the family was away. A friend who lived near Al-Hamra Street offered us shelter in her home for safety.
After entrusting our beloved bird to the neighbours, who chose to remain in the building, we left. However, the bombing in the western region intensified. The neighbours who had taken in the bird called me to say they were heading to the mountains. This meant that we needed to retrieve the bird.
I entrusted my daughter to friends and went to collect the bird. When I came back, I held the cage and stood on the sidewalk of Al-Mazraa Street, in front of the UNESCO Pharmacy, while the bombing continued. Nothing in how I dressed could reveal my religious beliefs or any other affiliation.
I made several attempts to flag down a taxi. However, numerous cars sped by without stopping. I nearly gave up and continued walking, even though the safe place where I had left my youngest daughter was still far away.
Out of nowhere, a fast-moving car zoomed past. Soon after, the screeching sound of brakes filled the air. The car stopped and reversed to where I stood.
