Leila Hatoum, Lebanon, "Let them bomb me, it doesn't really matter any more"

Leila Hatoum, a reporter at the Daily Star newspaper in Lebanon, continued to work during the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah – despite air strikes having forced her to move twice.

“My house is in the Roueiss area in the heart of the southern suburbs, an eight-minute walk from the Hezbollah-secured neighbourhood of Bir al-Abed. I have lived there my whole life. The area was [before the conflict] bustling with life, shops and people and, frankly, it was the safest area to live in.

“Because of the Israeli attacks, on 18 July I left my diplomas, books, pictures and belongings and moved to my grandma's house in the Shiyah area, mid-way between the southern suburbs and my work in central Beirut.

“An aunt from the south and her children shared the house with us. Even at the second house, I knew neither comfort nor safety. The missiles pounded during the day and then would hush for some time before resuming between 1 a.m. and 6 a.m. every single morning.

"People would either wake up to the sound of explosions or would not sleep at all because they would be anticipating when the next explosion would take place.

“My work at The Daily Star was not that safe either. I was looking out of the window one Saturday afternoon and boom! An Israeli missile hit the heart of the white building of Beirut's port in front of my eyes - a short distance from my office.

“A week ago, I heard a huge explosion in Beirut. I called my mother in Shiyah, who gasped out that the building facing the one we were staying at was demolished by an Israeli missile. More than 35 people died in that air raid, according to the United Nations.

“My mother said she was watching television when all of a sudden a blast of hot air pushed her across the room. ‘The house was filled with smoke, and I thought that we were the ones who were hit by the missile,’ my mother said.

“It took the family 10 minutes to gather whatever they could and move to another house, this time a family apartment in the Christian suburb of Hazmiyeh. This third house, a very large apartment with a terrace overlooking Beirut, was shared by six families, comprising my family, my uncles and aunts and some of their relatives.

“We could still hear the explosions rocking Beirut, watching it live from a distance. I still had to drive to my work in Beirut, using the sole surviving bridge in the area, and I would pray to God that the Israeli planes didn’t target my car.

“Living in fear becomes a habit and then you lose all sense of feeling afraid. ‘Let them bomb me, it doesn't really matter any more,’ I would tell my mother whenever she pleaded with me to stay home. ‘At least I'm writing to the outside world about what they [Israelis] are doing to us. If they want to waste their rockets on me, then so be it.'

LH/LS/ED