Shiva Karout, wearing a sweatshirt printed in tribute to the victims of the Beirut port explosions on August 4, 2020, gazes into the distance at the destroyed port silos on July 28, 2024. Photo by Matthieu Karam
BEIRUT – Shiva Karout gazes into the distance at the destroyed silos of the Beirut port. These macabre remnants of Aug. 4, 2020, are visible to him every day. The gym where he works is located directly across from the site of the explosion, just a few hundred meters away.
“It’s not something you can forget,” he said, wearing a sweatshirt printed with the names of all the victims of that tragedy. “I wear it at every international competition. I want everyone to know what the Lebanese have endured,” emphasized the professional weightlifter.
But the thirty-something has more than just his workplace or this piece of clothing to remember what happened that day and to remind himself that he is “lucky to be alive.” On Aug. 4, Karout tattooed it on his body: On the back of his left thigh, etched into his skin, is an eye, his own, shedding a tear-shaped like Lebanon. In its retina: The explosion. “I represented what I saw,” he said.
Four years later, for Karout, it is still the same gym, with almost the same view. The “same pain, the same thoughts” persist, he admitted. “It was a war zone. There were people on the ground, blood everywhere,” he recalled, as one of the club members, Elie Naufal, would not survive his injuries. “No one should have to experience that. It’s a scar that can’t be erased. Aug. 4 is imprinted in you. Whether you imprint it on your body or not, there’s no difference,” stated Karout. And Karout is not the only one to have tattooed a design on their body in memory of that fateful day. From a simple mention of Beirut to depictions of the silos and the explosion itself, many have felt the need to mark this moment of their existence on their skin, from which they survived but can no longer – nor want to – escape.
The word “Beirut”
“Every person who comes for a tattoo related to Lebanon has this country in their heart,” said Elie Akiki, a 32-year-old tattoo artist. In his studio in Mtayleb, not far from Beirut, the artist with ink-darkened arms tattooed his best friend a few months after Aug. 4, 2020, with a design related to the catastrophe.
“He lost an eye on the first day of the October 2019 protests after being hit by a security forces’ shot,” he recounted. Escaping the explosion, his friend wanted to immortalize the tragedy on his skin. “It’s not easy to create a design for a tattoo related to Lebanon and have the result be perfect,” explained the tattoo artist. For his friend, he decided to combine in one tattoo the smoke of the explosion, the silos, and the word “Beirut,” all set against a map of Lebanon. “These silos are very important; they shielded the city from part of the explosion’s blast,” he said, as the destroyed structure takes up a large part of the design. “What mattered most to me was that the tattoo pleased him and that I could convey his message through this design,” he explained.
Elie Akiki, tattoo artist, presents a tattoo commissioned in memory of the explosions at the Beirut port on August 4, 2020. Photo by Matthieu Karam
If tattoos related to Lebanon, and especially to Aug. 4, are so delicate, it is because they are often cathartic for both the client and the artist. During tattoo sessions, “I’ve heard many personal testimonies. They all spoke of ‘guardian angels.’ We were always moved. Sometimes we ended up crying together,” confided Joanna Antoun, also known as “Joa,” a tattoo artist whose studio is located in Dekwaneh, also in the Beirut suburbs. “That day, the windows exploded, but thank God, no one was hurt,” she recalls. Her first tattoo related to the explosion was for a client who was injured in several places on his body. “He had many scars but didn’t want to hide them. He asked to have the date and time of the explosion tattooed under one of these marks,” explains the artist, who has never refused to do a tattoo related to the explosion. After Aug. 4, 2020, “I spent a year tattooing the word ‘Beirut’ on my clients,” she stated.
“Life in Lebanon is too short”
Nour Arkilo chose a “Beirut” on the back of her left arm, with the fateful date. “This tattoo reminds me that life in Lebanon is too short and that anything can happen. I could lose loved ones at any moment. It helps me appreciate every moment. I am grateful to be alive,” said the 28-year-old art director who, with her sister, narrowly escaped a door exploding in her family home in Achrafieh, near Saint George’s Hospital. “A miracle,” she believed. It was a friend who tattooed her. “Strangely, the session wasn’t as emotional as I imagined. I was happy to get tattooed and remember laughing a lot during the process.”
Nour Arkilo and her August 4 tattoo. Photos provided by Nour Arkilo
Elie Ghaoui, on his left forearm, has a design representing the skyline of the Lebanese capital, with its church, mosque, skyscraper, and, on the far right, a smoke mushroom, with the word “Beirut,” which he drew himself. “My tattoo is a tribute to my mother, who was near the port that day, to her strength and resilience, but also to my country,” said the 22-year-old, who is now studying in Paris. “A tattoo isn’t always a good memory,” stated the young man, who said he “feels very good” with his tattoo, “especially in Paris, when people ask me which country it is from. I then explain what happened that day and where I come from.”
But the Lebanese are not the only ones who have tattooed a reference to Aug. 4. “I didn’t want to forget what happened, but I also didn’t want to tie Lebanon and all my memories to this event,” explained Louise Victor, a 27-year-old French photo stylist who was a student in Beirut in 2020. “The cedar was a symbol that reminded me of Lebanon and the good memories here,” she noted. A red cedar, on her left ring finger. “It’s the finger where we wear rings, and it would be connected to the heart,” the young woman emphasized, finding it “a way to externalize” her emotions “without being afraid” of her vulnerabilities.
Élie Ghaoui and his tattoo representing the Beirut skyline and the port explosion. Photo provided by Élie Ghaoui
Her tattoo artist was “very surprised and touched because I’m not Lebanese,” Louise recalls. “Sometimes, to give myself strength, I look at my tattoo and tell myself that after going through August 4, life’s small worries are nothing.”
This article was originally published in French in L'Orient-Le Jour. It was translated by Olivia Le Poidevin.