by Dana Halawi

BEIRUT, Aug. 4 (Xinhua) -- When some 2,750 tonnes of ammonium nitrate exploded on Aug. 4, 2020, the explosion ripped through a modest apartment overlooking the Beirut port, home of then four-year-old Elia.

Five years later, Elia is still living in the shadow of that day.

"He had nightmares for a year, wet his clothes, and couldn't sleep alone or go to the restroom without someone. He became aggressive... the trauma made everything worse," said Rima Hocheymi, Elia's mother.

For the worse part, Elia's anxiety resurfaces with every new conflict in Lebanon.

Elia is among the many children haunted by the trauma from the port blast that killed at least 218 people and injured over 7,000.

Clinical psychologist and psychotherapist Rita Chahwane explained that such emotional fragmentation is common among children exposed to large-scale trauma.

"We saw cases where children are in complete psychological intolerance to react or absorb an excessive, brutal and violent influx of excitement which puts them in a state of psychological, mental, emotional shock and fear, emotionally and physically," she said. "It's a defense mechanism -- their minds can't absorb something this massive."

Unlike adults, "children's personalities are still forming, and trauma can interrupt that development in silent but powerful ways," Chahwane said.

Nicole Tarabay witnessed that firsthand. Her daughter Yasmina was just 10 when the explosion shattered their lives. Nicole's husband was critically injured -- a coma, brain surgery, and memory loss.

"I couldn't tell Yasmina the truth at first," she said. However, that lie -- a mother's instinct to protect -- backfired. "She lost trust in me. To this day, she questions everything."

According to Chahwane, these reactions are to be expected and require attention. "Parents and teachers need to watch for lingering signs: sudden aggression, isolation, sleep disturbances, disinterest in play. These are all indicators that the trauma is still active and continues to act internally."

For some families, trauma was compounded by irrevocable loss. Elie Daoud was home with his daughter Ella, who was two at the time of the explosion. His wife Jessy, a nurse, never came home.

Ella, now seven, is beginning to ask more questions. "She wishes her mom were here, especially on her birthday," Elie says. "She hugs other moms tightly -- her friends' mothers, her aunts. She's searching for that affection."

Still, access to mental health care remains a serious barrier. "A session can cost 100 U.S. dollars. We need publicly funded centers with psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, educators -- not just for the children, but for the parents too," Chahwane said.

One of the biggest challenges to recovery, she noted, is that children mirror their parents' emotional state. "If a parent hasn't healed, then the child won't recover either. Healing is a family process."

As Chahwane said, "A house can be repaired. But rebuilding a child's sense of safety, of love -- that's the work of years. And we've barely begun."

So far, no one has been held responsible for the blast. While some compensation was awarded through foreign courts, many victims' families in Lebanon have not received government compensation or reparations and continue to rely on private and international assistance five years after the blast.

In January, the investigation into the blast was resumed after a two-year suspension. A total of 10 people, including security, customs, and military personnel, were charged with negligence and possible intent to commit murder.

On Monday, Lebanese President Joseph Aoun vowed that "justice is coming," saying that the state "is committed to uncovering the whole truth, no matter the obstacles or how high the positions" involved.