Car Bomb Blast Site

No rest for the wicked. Just as I got home, about to sit on that infamous balcony of mine, the house shook with that now familiar and rather powerful BANG BANG. I don’t know if it is the echo of an explosion that gives you the double-bang, or whether it was a double explosion, but whatever it was, it was pretty massive. The windows bent in and out, literally. But since they were all open, nothing broke.
Outside the familiar shattering of glass indicated however that this bomb was indeed pretty close. I ran down the street to the sea-side, where black smoke was already billowing up from behind the Ferris Wheel of the seaside-Luna Park here in West-Beirut. It came from the little alley way that takes you from two popular West-Beirut beaches; Long Beach and Sporting, back to the main road.

A massive car bomb had exploded there, just as an anti-Syrian member of parliament, Walid Eido, his son Khaled and two or three body guards drove by. They came back from the beach. A massive bomb. When the fire brigade finally extinguished the fire, the wreckage of about 5 cars could be seen. Mangled masses of steel. Did I say massive?

If you live in Holland, you may wonder what goes on at a car bomb site. Well, the scene develops itself rather predictable, and in stages.

Perplexing
The first ones at the bomb site are the ones that happened to be in the neighborhood. The guy that sells potato chips and cigarettes, the coffee shop and its clientele. They are standing a little confused, looking at the burning cars. Their ears are still ringing from the enormous blast, and they cannot quite believe that they are actually alive. Just around the corner lies the immensely wrangled mass of steel, left-overs of a couple of cars that are now profusely burning. They are so surprised that they haven’t even attempted to extinguish the fire of the now 5 burning cars. They have left their water pipes, their backgammon board and the tea cups alone, and are gazing, baffled and perplexed, at the scene.
Confusion
Then soldiers from the army base next door arrive. They haven’t been given any clear orders yet, and they are not quite sure what to do. Extinguish the fire, or make sure the people do not get too close? Let people make pictures or not? Get them out of the way, or let them climb on the wall? One gives an order left, the next one gives an order right, a third one gives one contradicting the other two. As a journalist, at this time you can basically ignore them, because they do not know what to do anyway. They try to maintain some type of order, but their yelling and running around only adds to the confusion. Anxiety and Fear

The third wave are the people that come running or on scooters, even before the police. They are the ones that know that family members or friends were at or around the spot. I have friends frequenting both beaches, and by the time I arrived at the bomb blast, I saw two of them standing in the parking lot facing the narrow alleyway with the car bomb; in swimming trunks, their hands going nervously through their hair. I checked with them, it’s the first thing you do after a bomb blast. Are you fine? Did anything happen? Where is so-and-so? Is she with you? Is everyone okay? I met other friends. ‘My mom goes here, I cannot reach here. Have you see her?’ Because ‘tout Beirut’ starts calling immediately to check up on family, the mobile network is instantly blocked, and calls do not get through anymore. I ran into another friend. “Is he with his son? I know the guy. I saw him leaving with his son, is he with his son?” He was talking about the victim in the car. Some Type of Order
Sirens now sound all over the place. Policemen arrive, and the fire brigade is pulling in with its fire trucks. We are about 5 minutes into the blast now. Some big police honcho arrives, and orders that all spectators are to be removed from the scene. The Red Cross comes in with ambulances, and some type of order is created by the Civil Defense people. Numerous men in a wide variety of uniforms walk all over the place. Others just walk around with a type of M-16 assault weapon, but no uniform. I sure hope they have licenses for this. It is actually a wonder that nobody gets shot at events like this, because everyone is at an edge. The army however, is still giving contradictory orders. One moment you may make a picture, the next you may not. Press
The next wave, like a immense swarm of ants, are the press photographers. Big bellies, big lenses. They scamper over the pieces of prefab walls that have come tumbling down, climb on roofs and walls, and get the army all upset. They try and stop them, but there is no stopping these guys. So they yell a little, but after a while the soldiers give up. I am usually in this wave, but because I live around the corner, I arrived at 'confusion stage'.I also noticed that of the four pillars of the three story building next to the bomb blast, only two remain somehow intact. Maybe it was time to change venue. Spectators
By now, (we are 15 minutes later) the news is all over town. Walid Eido, his son (some reports say both sons), two bodyguards and a number of people on their way home from the beach died in the explosion. How this news gets through is a miracle, because my mobile phone cannot get through to anyone. Everyone is coming over to check this out. The entire beach boulevard is crowded, but the army has finally organized itself; they have cordoned off the area, and people can no longer get close to the cars where the red cross people are right now placing white towels over bits and pieces of meat that lie around; on the street, on roof tops, on the bumper cars field (this was next to a Luna Park)
There was not one bit of recognizable human remains. Just blobs of burnt stuff all over the place. This explosion was so immense that the bodies flew over the wall into the soccer field of the Nismeh Soccer Club next door.
It was time to go home.

On my way home, the familiar sound of shattered glass being swept together by the surrounding apartments and businesses was heard everywhere. People already started cleaning up.
Being a member of parliament, I assume being blown up is a risk that comes with the job. At least it does in this country. And although I do not agree with that, I understand that it happens. And being a bodyguard for a member of parliament that runs the risk of being blown-up, I guess that goes for the body guards too.

What I do not understand though, is that his son had to be in the car. Couldn’t they just wait and let him pass this time, because his son was in the car? This is truly a dirty game.