The night the bombs fell in Qatar

I am not sure what moved fastest – the bombs, my fingers or heartbeat.

The bombing of the US Air Force base in Qatar feels surreal now, less than 24 hours later. But last night it was in-your-face, shudderingly real.

And I mean that literally, as the ground shook, reverberating with each large boom, as I was happily going about my evening, carrying my supper from the kitchen to the lounge at about 7.36pm

“We’re being bombed,” I thought. “It can’t be. But we are. We’re being bombed.”

Just like that. With no real warning, bombs were falling on Qatar, a country acknowledged as one of the safest in the world. The only big bangs anyone ever hears here are fireworks.

(Thank you to Doha News for use of their post to illustrate my blog post. I do not work for Doha News but wished to include their content by way of indicating their regular updates to subscribers.)

Initial reaction

I won’t lie. I was frightened. Shocked.

I think I spun around three times before deciding where to put my tray down.  My body seemed to be out of sync with my brain.

My chest had tightened.  

I ran from window to window in our ground-floor apartment in Doha seeking the best vantage point for what was happening. I mean, I was once a journalist.

At the about same time, sanity prevailed. Standing close to a window when missiles of whatever sort were raining down was a daft thing to do.

‘It’s a war’

Before I could hunker down under a table or wherever, my phone rang. A friend. Had I heard the bombs? What about our husbands? Don’t want to disturb them.

The H and others were having a church council meeting at the Religious Complex some 30 minutes’ drive away from our homes close to the centre of Doha.

Not to worry, I’ll happily disturb them.

“Afterall, it’s a war,” I declared, and duly called Mark, the H, who calmly explained that they were watching events unfold overhead.

(“That’s very nice (I didn’t say this). Now get back inside! (I did say this).”)

Missiles and uncertainty raining down

Bright objects were raining down and today, now that we’re a little wiser, we know that similar shiny objects were also being sent up by the Qataris to intercept those missiles. Only one of the 19 missiles landed.

But last night, that’s 23 June, it was difficult to know exactly what was happening.

It all came about so suddenly and dare I say, unexpectedly.

To top it all, I couldn’t get the TV to work (I kid you not), to keep abreast of the latest news from Al Jazeera English.

And so, as with every crisis, I turned to social media!

Fear, filming and finger trouble

My fear played out in my inability to type … I was shaking. My finger trouble meant my spelling was shot.

I let our children know we were being bombed but we were presently safe, and that they should PRAY (as I was also already doing).

While the Derry TV may have been on the blink, I know that everyone else’s google box was in fine fettle as message after message flooded in checking on our safety. This news was being shared in real time.

Thank you! Your messages of concern and the sharing on WhatsApp groups made me/us feel less alone.

It was on various social media platforms that I got to see images of what was playing out overhead – something that probably lasted less than 15 minutes.

I witnessed the fears of panicked shoppers running from malls, experienced the shock of those filming in their expletives and exclamations and appreciated the frustrations of individuals seeking direction and reassurance in the midst of the calamity.

(Well done, to the Saffas in Doha WhatsApp group for your measured and informative posts!)

Heartbeat and traumatic triggers

Just as I had never expected the attack on Qatar, I was also unprepared for the sudden flashbacks of my own.

Muddling through the present crisis, triggered previous traumatic experiences.

This included trying to elude the security police while driving at breakneck speed through the townships at the height of the Apartheid in the late 1980s and many a scary moment at my university in South Africa during Fees Must Fall movement by students from 2015 to 2017.

As with my fingers, my heartbeat had taken on an accelerated pace of its own within my constricted chest.  

Or was it just me?

Pre-warning to bombing

Today (the day after the bombing) folk are asking if we, the near 3 million people who live in Qatar, received any warnings about a possible attack.

The answer is yes and no.

There was general information about having essentials, inclusive of travel and other important documentation a week or so ago as events in the Middle East escalated. This was followed by warnings from various embassies about “shelter in place” (I presume this meant they were to stay at home).

And then about an hour before the attack, there were announcements about the temporary closures of airspace in Qatar. Since the same was happening with our neighbours in the UAE, I didn’t take it too seriously – viewing it as a precautionary measure.

And to be fair, Iran had warned that there would be reprisals for the bombing of its nuclear facilities, but I never-ever believed that retribution would occur in Qatar, its friendly neighbour.

Happy endings

There were no warning sirens, but even if there had been, there are no bunkers in Qatar, unless you include the Metro.

Fortunately, no-one died or was injured as the intended target – Al Udeid Air Base, some 50km from the heart of the capital – had been emptied of both its planes and 10 000 American airmen and women some time prior to the 22 June bombings.

And the H arrived home safely.

To fix the TV and for us unpack what had just happened.

And to give thanks that the online follow-up warnings about a second wave of bombs did not materialize.

A surreal new day

After a fitful night, we awoke to normalcy.

Birds chirping, compound staff going about their early morning business and me exercising as usual, while listening to the builders on the site across the way.

Hamad International Airport is back in business, school examinations will resume on 24 June and traffic is its usual Doha Drift self.

Did last night really happen?   

And a ceasefire in place, too, now?

It feels completely surreal.

19 bombs, no casualties and a ceasefire.

What of tomorrow

While we don’t know what the future holds, I hope for the best – not just for Qatar, but for anyone who finds themselves in a war.

I think and pray especially for those families trying to survive in Gaza. For more than 20 months, the Palestinians have been denied safety, food and medical support. They have been beaten, bombed and now they are being starved, and shot at.

We faced just one scary night of uncertainty.

Imagine what those in Gaza and elsewhere have already suffered.

I pray that sense and peace will prevail.