Marist Alum Fundraise For Beirut After Devastating Explosion
Marist’s Lebanese Working to Make a Difference
6 p.m. on Aug. 4, a massive explosion ripped through Beirut’s busy seaside port, killing close to 200 people, injuring thousands, and caused an estimated $15 billion in damages. As one of the largest non-nuclear explosions in world history, the Lebanese blast has shaken an already unstable nation to its core.
The explosion on Aug. 4, in Beirut brought destruction across the city, damaging homes, businesses and buildings. Source: Brooklyn to Beirut
Marist College alumnus, Elie Christoforides, whose family is originally from Lebanon, recalls the moment he learned of the explosion. As a recent biomedical studies graduate, Christoforides was home in Brooklyn preparing for the MCAT exam. His mother was watching a Turkish soap opera on television when a notification appeared on the bottom of the screen. It reported an explosion in the port of Beirut.
When he saw the force of the explosion and the extent of its damage, “I was like, ‘There’s no way that’s Beirut,’” he said. “It blew my mind watching that from my phone. It seemed like the wind from the blast shattered through my screen.”
Although Christoforides and his immediate family live in the U.S., most of his relatives are still in Lebanon, including his paternal grandparents, who live ten minutes away from the epicenter of the blast. The rest of the day he spent frantically calling friends and family to make sure they were safe.
Christoforides has visited Lebanon every summer for as long as he can remember. He described Beirut as a place humming with activity. If he were to return now, Christoforides would find a different city. The bars and nightclubs he once frequented are now reduced to rubble, the hospital where his older sister used to work is completely destroyed, and the doors and windows of his grandmother’s house have been shattered due to the force of the explosion.
“That’s the crazy thing about the explosion,” Christoforides said. “It wasn’t some far away place in Lebanon — it was ten minutes away from where we go every summer. It was insane to see all the things you used to look at as a kid — those places are gone. You feel like a part of your memories are taken away.”
As Lebanon struggled to rebuild in the weeks following the explosion, Christoforides knew he wanted to help. He thought about the 300,000 people the explosion had displaced, and those (like his grandmother) whose homes had been partly or entirely destroyed.
So Christoforides decided to reach out to Mariana Wehbe, a Lebanese activist, and also team up with a non-profit and non-government organization (NGO) called Bebw’shebbek (“door and window,” when translated in English). Bebw’shebbek brings together volunteer architects, carpenters and engineers from all over the country with the intention of replacing every door and window in the 80,000 homes destroyed in the blast for no cost.
Moussa's painting, depicting her rage and despair towards the destruction and the government's response (or lack thereof) to it. Source: Thea Moussa ‘20
Partnering with Bebw’shebbek, Christoforides and his sister created their own nonprofit, Brooklyn to Beirut, to funnel donations from the U.S. straight to Wehbe through a GoFundMe page. To date, Brooklyn to Beirut has received $10,155 in donations, which are currently being used to help cover the costs of the doors and windows being restored by Webhe’s organization.
“We understand that the damage is far beyond what we're able to fix,” Christoforides said. “There’s still so much more work to be done and so much trust to be regained. But it’s about bringing happiness and doing as little as we can and whatever that means to each family.”
About $3,000 worth of Brooklyn to Beirut’s donations were raised with the help of Christoforides’ and a family-friend. Members of his friend’s family volunteered to sew 200 masks to help aid in the fundraising efforts.
“There wasn't a single friend of mine that did nothing about this,” Christoforides said. “It seemed like everyone who had ties to Lebanon decided to help. You can see how the youth and our generation are taking control and making sure we preserve whatever is left of that place.”
Despite his already impressive fundraising efforts, Christoforides said he wants to contribute more than just money. He spoke of possibly joining Bebw’shebbek on the ground in Beirut before he begins his neurological research fellowship at Harvard University later this year.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles and an ocean away, Théa Moussa, a 2020 graduate of Marist’s sister campus in Florence, Italy, was getting ready for a night out in Dubai when she learned of the blast through a news app notification on her phone. She had been trying to keep up with the current events in her home country, but what she read about Beirut, was far from good news.
Although Moussa and her family left Lebanon and moved to the United Arab Emirates in 1998, she still spends holidays and summer vacations in Beirut. Like Christoforides, Moussa cancelled plans and called loved ones to make sure they were alive. Phone lines were down from the blast, making it harder to get in contact with her grandparents, cousins and friends. In the days after the explosion, everyone in her family donated what they could to various relief efforts. Moussa’s 10 year-old sister even gave her tooth fairy money to the cause.
Having studied art restoration, art history and studio art in Florence, Moussa turned to the paint brush for solace. When the gravity of what had happened dawned on her, Moussa looked toward the large canvas in her room, on which she had started drawing scenes from the revolution. “I had painted the revolution in a very positive and hopeful way, with happy faces,” Moussa said. “And it just seemed completely irrelevant at that point. I just wanted to rip it apart.”
Marist alumni Thea Moussa, '20, auctioned off an original painting to raise money to aid those impacted by the August explosion in Beirut, Lebanon. Source: Thea Moussa, '20
Instead, she covered the drawing in a coat of red paint. Moussa remembered the pictures she had seen of friends in the blast’s aftermath, covered in cuts and blood. Although horrifying, the images became the inspiration for her new project: a 90 by 120 centimeter oil painting of an eye looking helplessly onto the blast, crying tears of blood. Moussa deliberately depicted her rage and despair in swirls of red, white and green — the colors of the Lebanese flag. She finished the piece in two weeks and put it up online for an auction with the intent to donate the proceeds to Beirut relief organizations.
Moussa is thankful that people from all over Lebanon rushed to the city’s aid and assisted in clean up and food distribution, but she is angry and disappointed that not much else has happened since the explosion. When thousands of citizens took to the streets to express their rage and sorrow in peaceful protests, the government responded by sending the army to dispel the crowds with tear gas and pellets. To make matters worse, Lebanese officials have failed to take blame for what was clearly a preventable tragedy.
“The only nice thing about the reaction is that the young generations worked especially hard to raise funds and spread the word about what happened,” Moussa said. “I think they handled it way better than any official organizations in Lebanon.”
On Sept. 25, the winning bid for Moussa’s painting was placed at $4,500, which she will split between three Lebense charities, Offre Joi, Minteshreen and the Children’s Cancer Center of Lebanon. Between Christoforides and Moussa’s fundraising efforts, close to $15,000 was donated to those struggling to regain normalcy in Beirut.
“I was just hoping to help out in any way I could,” Moussa said. “When it first happened, my first instinct was that I need to go to Lebanon. I need to be there with my friends and clean up the city, but I couldn’t do that. Even if the painting sold for a small amount, at least it’s helping.”
Relief donations for Beirut can still be made through Brooklyn to Beirut’s GoFundMe page, or by going to www.bebwshebbek.org.