Four years ago today, Grace Dergham did the one thing she said she would never do.
With her life packed in a single suitcase, she boarded a one-way flight from Lebanon in a move she described as "anything but easy".
The 28 year old bid farewell to her parents with tears in her eyes and a heavy heart on July 31, lingering a little longer in their embrace, before rushing to catch the plane she desperately wanted to miss.
It was deja vu for the departure terminal at Beirut International Airport. Emotional goodbyes had become the norm for many Lebanese families in 2021, with thousands of young people travelling to seek a future abroad amid their country's political paralysis, economic collapse and the final straw – the Beirut port blast.
Hundreds of tonnes of ammonium nitrate improperly stored at Beirut port exploded on August 4, 2020, killing more than 220 people, injuring thousands and obliterating parts of the capital.
While there are no accurate statistics, Information International, a research firm in Beirut, noted a mass exodus after the port explosion.
Only way forward
Ms Dergham was on her way to play tennis with her friends in Hamra, about 4km from the port, when the devastating explosion happened.
"I saw a huge, pink cloud in the sky. Just as I pulled out my phone to take a picture, I felt the ground underneath me shake. Next thing I know, there was shattered glass everywhere and panicked calls from my family started flooding in," she told The National. "It was only later that reality set in and I understood the gravity of what happened."
The architect is the youngest of four siblings and was the only child still living with her parents at the time of the blast. All three of her elder siblings had families and lives abroad, a path she had never considered, until then.
Lebanon had been the only home Ms Dergham knew and she was particularly fond of its scenic landscapes, hospitable people and rich cultural heritage.
In June 2021, a job opportunity came knocking on Ms Dergham's door and by July she had left Beirut with no return flight. The decision to pack up and leave came with an immense feeling of guilt that "eats at her every day", she said.
"I didn't want to leave my parents alone but I was starting to lose hope in the country. I thought I could support them better from abroad and so leaving felt like the only way forward, even if it meant letting go of everything that felt like home," she added solemnly.
Four years on, Ms Dergham has established a life in Abu Dhabi that she's grateful for, but every trip back to Beirut leaves her wondering if she made the right choice.
"You can never have enough of Lebanon," she said. The country has been described as having a charm that attracts tourists and citizens alike.
"Every time I say goodbye to my parents again, every time I have to leave home, I start reconsidering my options," she told The National.
Economic collapse
Her former colleague, Alex Habr, faces the same problem. The two worked together at a non-profit organisation that was involved in rebuilding homes destroyed by the Beirut blast.
Mr Habr, 28, received a bachelor's degree in interior architecture from Milan. He moved back to Beirut for work in July 2020, but less than one month later, the port blast happened.
Mr Habr was among scores of Lebanese who took to the streets in the days and weeks after August 4 to help clear up the rubble. He was working first-hand with NGOs to help families rebuild their homes, and now owns construction and contracting companies in the US.
"Being on the streets after the blast and helping people slowly rebuild was the most fulfilling experience of my life but it also showed me how unstable our country really was," said Mr Habr.
He described families who had been well-off, only to find themselves unable to afford renovations after losing their hard-earned savings in Lebanon's banking crisis.
In late 2019, Lebanon began feeling the impact of one of the worst financial crises in history. The economic collapse pushed more than half the population into poverty, with the national currency losing more than 90 per cent of its value.
The banking system was hard-hit, with years of unsustainable monetary policies catching up with the once-globally praised sector. Cash deposits in Lebanese banks vanished and many people lost their life savings.
The ripple effects of the economic crisis, still felt to this day, are another reason that pushed many to leave, despite their love for their homeland.
“Lebanon is my favourite country, it's always on my mind, I always think about moving back home," said Mr Habr. "But Lebanon is unstable, there are no guarantees, I can’t sacrifice what I have to move back."
While he has no immediate plans to relocate to Beirut, Mr Habr still flew back for the summer. Even during crisis, expats often find their way home for the holidays, where they revel in the pristine beaches, scenic hikes, delicious feasts and parties till sunrise.
'It keeps me up at night'
Nagham Abou Zeid had always dreamt of pursuing her postgraduate studies abroad but had plans to move back to Lebanon and teach at her alma mater, the Lebanese American University.
The 24 year old is currently a candidate for a doctorate at the University of Tennessee in Nashville, where she is studying child psychology and development. However, her plans to move back home have fallen through.
"I changed my mind after the economic collapse," Ms Abou Zeid told The National. "I saw my parents work really hard all their lives, only to lose everything overnight."
Ms Abou Zeid's father had been in the Lebanese Army for 37 years. His retirement money, which had been stored in the bank "after years of serving the country", was all gone.
The Beirut blast, which the postgraduate student escaped by mere chance, was the final nail in the coffin.
"On the day of the blast, I had a therapist appointment in Achrafieh at exactly 6pm," she told The National. "I don't remember why I cancelled it, but luckily I did because the therapist's office was fully destroyed in the blast." Ms Abou Zeid also took to the streets as part of clear-up and recalls chaotic scenes she will never forget.
Five years since the explosion, there has been no justice, no accountability and no answers.
Political pushback on an investigation into the blast, which has largely been blamed on state negligence and mismanagement, has led many Lebanese diaspora to stand by their decision to stay away, despite how difficult it can be.
"I don't regret my decision, it has come with a lot of pain, but I think it was the right thing to do," Ms Abou Zeid said. "I hate that I can't see my parents get older, and I hate that I miss out on milestones and special occasions.
"I don't regret not wanting to go back. There's no stability, no safety, no security, but it's 100 per cent a really difficult decision that keeps me up at night."
