Mrs. Flouty

Good morning from Beirut. The frantic pace continues, as more and more things are discovered. It is now clear to us that the response to this catastrophe has been massive. Unprecedented really, for Lebanon. With that, comes the lack of coordination, added confusion and additional chaos. Relief teams conduct assessments, visit affected homes, gauge the damages, measure windows and doors to be replaced and leave. Some victims have had 10 teams walk in and do the same and are now leery of new teams. NGOs want to help and are helping, it just saddens me that through the process, the victim’s hopes are raised and then they are dashed. Data collected goes into a file somewhere, and hopefully someone much smarter than me is doing something useful with it. 

We have had to shift our response plan and adjust the level of effort towards more pressing needs. For example, we are focusing primarily now on rehab and shelter, because food is being distributed by everybody. Next, we are focusing on providing medicine and hygiene kits, and some minor help with cleaning, given the thousands of youths doing an amazing job with that. 

Given the amount of damage and debris, we are seeing larger and larger piles of glass, busted doors, window frames and household items on the streets. There isn't an organised trash collecting system that is going on or sponsored by the city or the municipalities. This adds to the level of frustration, anxiety, and trauma that people are already feeling. Damaged restaurants, who lost electricity, still have the rotten foods in them, causing an incredible vile stench in the air. 

All this to say, in the midst of chaos, one finds peace when holding someone in their arms. I met Mrs. Flouty the first day, she was shaking uncontrollably. Crying inconsolably. With Covid-19 we must maintain distance, wear masks, hide our faces, it makes caring for the victims so impersonal. In that destroyed home, in that moment, I just asked if I could hug her and pray for her. She ran to me, threw herself in my arms and just wept. She is 84 years old, a widow who now has lost her home. I hope our 4 minutes together give her a little hope. She will forever live in my dreams.