Tears and deep sorrow in Doha as blaze victims mourned

Manama Khalid stood calmly at the Aspire Park in Doha, just metres from the upscale Villaggio mall crèche where 13 children and six adults died a day earlier.

Despite his steely resolve to remain calm in the public areas where hundreds of people gathered to pay their respect to the blaze victims, hot tears rolled down his cheeks, trembling on his eyelashes, reddening his eyes and betraying the extent of the impact of the tragedy on him.

In his life as a journalist, he has covered numerous painful situations and witnessed terrible events. He thought that he was well braced for the worst.

But, he never thought that a tragedy would strike near his home in placid and calm Doha.

He has been a regular visitor of the mall, the epitome of Qatar’s openness to the world and readiness to spoil nationals and residents from dozens of countries.

It was an icon that was admired during the Asian Games and loved by the people who chose to settle in Qatar. A testimony to Qatar’s success into the 21st century.

On Tuesday, however, the complex was seen as the sinister place where people died because, somehow, someone failed to comply with basic safety standards.

“I am here because I feel so strongly about what happened,” he said. “It is a terrible tragedy and we all deeply deplore the loss of innocent lives, the lives of 13 children who were joyously innocently enjoying their time, secure in the thought that life was filled with joy, bliss and happiness. Now, they are all gone. It is so sad,” he said as he stared at the sky.

One hour earlier, he was at the Abu Hamour cemetery for the funeral prayers of four victims, including the two firefighters who lost their lives as they rescued some of the trapped children.

Muslims, Christians and men and women of other creeds gathered at the park, united in their grief. Each had a story to share about the daycare centre, about the mall, about living in Doha.

‘Ghost building’

Every now and then, they glanced at the shopping complex, lumps in their throats.

Here, every day for the last six years, cars competed for space, shoppers rushed for bargains, children giggled in anticipation of the gondola ride or the toys they dreamed of buying and young people looked for moments of relaxation.

Today, the complex is shut down, a desolate sight of the joys and opportunities it once grandiosely represented.

There are no cars trying to secure a parking space or children pulling at their parents’ hands to walk faster towards the mall.

“Look at it now. It is a ghost building, deserted by all. There are only those tasked with cleaning up the mess and helping to fix what has been damaged,” Khalid said. “There are also the investigators who have the delicate task of finding the truth. These are the people who will make sure that we all understand what happened, how it happened, and why it was allowed to happen. They will help us make sure there is no repeat of this tragedy,” he said as he started to walk towards a group of children laying flowers at a large pole.

Most women wore dark glasses to protect their eyes from the scorching heat. But mainly to hide their swollen eyes. Tears quickly rushed to eyes in this terrible gathering of hurt souls, numb minds and injured hearts.

They came to Doha from different parts of the world, from Canada and the Philippines, South Africa and France, Japan and Spain, Morocco and Iran. An almost carefree and rewarding life was waiting for them. They had dreams, both soft and bold, that they wanted to run into sweet reality for them and their children.

On May 29, they met on the green grass of the Aspire Park to console one another as their dreams were shattered by the tragic deaths of their children and relatives. The messages of compassion and support in Arabic and English were scrolling across the large screen put up by compassionate people who appreciated that everybody needed a hug, a handshake, a pat on the shoulder, a word of comfort.

Young children who, for one reason or the other, were not at the crèche on that fateful Monday walked silently with their parents, not fully aware of how fortunate and privileged they were.

Profound silence

Parents, friends and relatives who were too shaken or too tired to stand preferred to sit or squat on the grass, their eyes often lost in the space ahead of them, their thoughts too distant to allow for conversation.

Many of the parents have lapsed profoundly in their silence, retreating to a world that they did not suspect existed at all.

They offered silent prayers for their lost treasures, recalling with great fondness delightful moments they were lucky to be with them before they disappeared suddenly, without the slightest warning.

A group of New Zealanders performed a haka and poroporoaki, the traditional farewell, to express their emotions and grief.

Qatari ministers and intellectual figures were at the park. The dark glasses could not hide the sorrowful looks on their faces. They felt affected by the tragedy and understood the deep sorrow of the foreigners who had come from countries that were thousands of kilometres away, but lost their children in Doha.

For almost two hours, the world came to a standstill at the Aspire Park. Nothing existed for the hundreds of Qataris and foreigners, men and women, adults and children, except fond memories, shy tears and profound sorrow expressed in silence and emotion.

“May God rest their souls in eternal peace,” Khalid said, as the muezzin in the nearby mosque called for the sunset prayers.