Seven years, the nitrate slept, undisturbed. But after the economy collapsed, when the port was the last man standing, bam, accident. How convenient.
It happened a little after six. When almost all employees have left the port. How convenient.
It destroyed Beirut, the capital of a ruined country. And its last hope to get back on its feet. Its last way out. How convenient.
After it happened, we were desperate and lost. But here they were. Our saviors. Coming to the rescue. They watched us drown for over a year. They watched our money as it was transferred to their banks. They watched everything collapse. Schools, hospitals, businesses, everything. And they said nothing. And they did nothing. But after the bam, here they were, all caring and loving. All hugging and kissing. With their hands full of dollars. How convenient.
That day, that cursed day, all satellites lurking on us malfunctioned. Couldn’t record any image. Technical problem, they said. How convenient.
Now, three years after that day, our port remains in ruins. While other ports strive and grow. How convenient.
Three years after that day, millions of dollars were spent. We don’t know how, and we don’t know how much. They just vanished in so many pockets. How convenient.
And justice, that big unknown, is nowhere to be found. How convenient.
Three years after that day, Lebanon keeps drifting. Politicians keep lying and stealing and conniving. Idiots keeps spending. The people keep crying and dying. And the criminals are still running free. Without a care in the world. How convenient.
© Claude El Khal, 2023
Photo: Associated Press.