Rebecca shares what it is like to study medicine in a collapsing country. In recent years the people of Lebanon had to deal with political protests, the COVID-19 pandemic, and a catastrophic blast that killed many people. Read on to find out what it is like to try to pursue your degree in such circumstances.
Lebanon. Omnipresent in the news for the past two years, but for all the bad reasons. For starters, Lebanon is a very small country in the Middle East. But 10452 sq km2 of charming cities, majestic views, and warm-hearted, cheerful people nonetheless. It was once blossoming in all its splendor until a 15-year civil war flipped the switch of the country’s destiny. This was between 1975 and 1990. As the years went by, the country eventually adapted to a newly found stability. Things were going well in appearance, but that lie we lived in was quick to take us to our downfall.
Thawra
October 2019. One decision from the government was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. A small decision with a butterfly effect.
It was a Thursday night. It only took a couple of hours for thousands of people to take to the streets. Burning tires, Lebanese flags in the air, the People had clearly taken a stand. Little did we know that this was just the beginning of two months of protests and opposition – better referred to as “Thawra.” From grandparents to grandkids, no one missed the rendezvous. Every day and every night, fighting for what we believed was right, for our rights, for our dignity. As the roads were blocked almost every day, and going to the Thawra as Lebanese students seemed like an utmost priority, universities and schools were halted. For about a month, we had no classes anymore. We all felt like “mech wa2ta nedros” – “it’s not the time to study” – which is paradoxical from a medical student’s perspective. Eventually, after two months of mayhem, things calmed down, but we students found ourselves with a huge load of work in order to catch up. The schedule was so tight, but we made it eventually.
The aftermath consisted of our currency, the Lebanese Pound, progressively losing its value and the political situation becoming even more unstable. But keeping this aside, students could finally breathe a bit after a few frenetic months. Or could we?
COVID-19 Pandemic
While the economic and political situations were progressively getting worse, a newcomer added fuel to the fire in February 2020. COVID-19 had reached Lebanon. As numbers kept growing exponentially, there was only one imminent solution: a lockdown. And again, no more university. All of a sudden, we found ourselves stuck at home, having to find the motivation to study while coping alone with the batch of bad news reaching us every day. Even though some institutions were quicker to adapt to the online system than others, the whole situation was nothing like a long calm river. In some cases, exams had to be pushed till July, with medical students having to pass more than 15 exams in a month. It was tough and very draining.
It should be noted that businesses and restaurants being forced to close was yet another blow to the failing economy. By August 2020, most students were finally done with exams, there was no more lockdown; it was finally time for us to breathe and rediscover life almost as we knew it. Or again, was it?
Beirut Blast
August 4th, 2020, 6h07PM. The unthinkable happened. We were just trying to process and adapt to everything that had happened during the past year when a blast, one of the biggest non-nuclear explosions in history, killed 218 people, wounded 7000, and left 300000 homeless with an estimated 4 billion dollars in material damage. I will not talk again about the blast, but what I will say is that these few weeks of summer that we were longing for turned out to be weeks of mourning, of vainly trying to understand, of attempting to clean up 1% of the mess by going to the affected areas with broomsticks in hands and face masks on.
Many students had lost their homes. All students had lost their hope. What are we still doing here? Beirut was destroyed 7 times in the past, and like a phoenix arose every time from its ashes. But this time, with what money? With what will? With what purpose?
Bitterly, life had to go on. The next academic year started quickly after that. At the end of the day, only graduating could keep us going.
2021
For most of its first half, the country was in lockdown. The second half consists of every issue taken to an extreme. As of right now, 1$ that used to equate to 1500LL is at 26750LL. Most households are left without electricity nor Internet for 5-10 hours a day. Not easy to study in these circumstances. For a while, gas reportedly became scarce, which forced people to wait in line for 4-6 hours to fill only a limited amount of gas. Now, gas is obnoxiously expensive. Not easy to get to university or hospital every day in these circumstances.
People are still earning Lebanese Pounds, and 78% of the Lebanese live below the poverty line, per the latest UN estimates. Everything has gotten nauseatingly out-of-budget. Many students are struggling with tuition fees. So many businesses and restaurants have closed, so many people lost their jobs, so many doctors fled the country. Health insurances are not paying anymore, and healthcare services are extremely expensive, leading many people to give up on their health. Hospitals are almost empty. It might seem utopic out-of-context, but extremely dystopian when put in context. Most drugs can’t be found anymore. Medical institutions, for lack of means, had to adapt and bring back outdated methods or stick to doing the bare minimum. As medical students who want to learn and improve, rotations have become uncomfortably calm. Witnessing poverty constantly, or not witnessing anything at all.
We are living in chaos. We try to adapt, go with the flow, and get that MD degree. But a future in Lebanon seems very unlikely.
As much as we want things to improve, it doesn’t look like it to me, to my parents, to my friends, to my teachers, to the passerby on the street, to anyone.
But we’re keeping our heads high; we’re going out; we’re spending time as efficiently as possible. One light at the end of the tunnel: our wish for a happy future, a successful career, and a country that fell so many times but managed, once again, to get back on its feet.
About Rebecca
Rebecca Kassab, 2nd year medical student at Université Saint Joseph de Beyrouth, Lebanon. She doesn’t know yet what she wants to specialize in but definitely has a preference for Emergency Medicine. She is a geography/travel addict, her favorite music genre is German rap, and in her free time, she loves to work out and practice languages (she is fluent in French, Arabic, English, and Spanish and getting better in German).
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