Beirut: Beirut is a city that wears its wounds in plain sight. Walk down many streets in the Lebanese capital, and you can still trace the outlines of old battles: bullet holes from a civil war that ended more than three decades ago, or facades scarred by recent clashes with Israel. But no scar is as visible — or as heavy — as the one left by the explosion at the port five years ago.

According to Namibia Press Agency, the explosion on August 4, 2020, occurred when almost 3,000 tonnes of ammonium nitrate stored at the port ignited. The explosion killed more than 200 people, injured thousands, and tore open the heart of Beirut. It registered as a 3.3-magnitude earthquake and has been called one of the largest non-nuclear explosions in human history.

From her apartment overlooking the port, Rima Hocheimy cannot glance at the silo without feeling her chest tighten. The massive walls of the silo, built to store grain, absorbed much of the explosion’s force, shielding half the city from even worse devastation.
Experts noted that without the silo, Beirut’s losses would have been even greater.

Rima’s young son, Elia, was four at the time of the explosion. The trauma lingered for months, with Elia experiencing nightmares and anxiety. Even now, at nine, he startles at loud noises, a reminder of the ever-present threat of violence in Beirut.

The city itself remains caught between recovery and trauma. Five years later, Beirut is a patchwork of progress and abandonment. Nearly 8,000 buildings were damaged, and dozens of historic landmarks are at risk of collapse. Reconstruction has been slow due to funding shortages and ongoing instability.

Accountability for the explosion remains elusive. Thousands of tons of dangerous chemicals sat in the port for years, ignored by officials across multiple agencies. Despite promises of justice, the investigation has been stalled by political interference and legal challenges. Families of the victims are still waiting for answers, insisting on a fair, independent inquiry.

On the fif
th anniversary of the blast, a road near the port was renamed the Street of the Victims of August 4. The presence of those gathered there spoke of wounds that have yet to heal and a determination for accountability.

The tilted, broken silo stands as both a memorial and a ruin. In 2022, plans to demolish it were paused due to backlash from victims’ families. Engineers warn it could collapse at any moment, yet it remains, perhaps waiting for Lebanon to decide how to honor its dead and rebuild from the ruins.