With the humanitarian crisis in Lebanon deepening, Amirah Ibrahim joined two Egyptian military flights taking relief aid to Beirut and returning with Egyptian nationals fleeing Israel's onslaught Wreckage surrounds what was once Beirut's efficient, modern airport, Israeli warplanes having bombed the three main runways. This was our first view from an Egyptian military flight bringing aid supplies to a besieged Lebanon. It was the first flight from Cairo to Beirut following the commencement of Israel's offensive that includes an air and sea blockade leaving Lebanon all but cut off from the outside world. Repairs to one runway enabled relief flights to land. I could see the blue waters of the Mediterranean as our plane came in on final approach. But I could not dream into existence the same beautiful city I visited two years ago. The trip started at dawn at a military air base in Cairo where a C-130 aircraft was waiting for takeoff. It was loaded with tonnes of relief materials: pharmaceuticals, tents and blankets. The load was changed a few hours before departure to include more water and medicine. It was the third consignment to be sent to Lebanon following two planeloads sent via Damascus one week before, as President Mubarak ordered that urgent aid supplies be sent to the conflict zone. The Egyptian Red Crescent Society donated the aid on our flight -- an estimated 25 tonnes. Over three weeks of fierce fighting, Islamic and national bodies across the country have made emotional appeals for assistance for the Lebanese people. The Red Crescent Society, headed by Egypt's First Lady Susanne Mubarak, carried out, as usual, the process of collecting donations and assistance in accordance with need priorities. Such assistance is usually sent through the air force fleet. Egypt has long been an active participant in international assistance efforts to help other countries overcome man-made or natural crises. In 2003, Egypt sent five cargoes carrying humanitarian aid to survivors of the devastating earthquake in the southeast Iranian city of Bam. In 2004, Egypt dispatched aid to Kenya after harsh weather conditions left many in the country in a critical state of dehydration. In 2004, Egypt also sent 1,000 tonnes of medicine and food to the war-torn Sudanese territory of Darfur. This week's flight to Beirut followed a flight plan precisely coordinated with both parties of the war, staying clear of combat zone airspace, reaching the Lebanese capital via Cyprus. For an hour and a half our aircraft was flying at 18,000 feet. But as we approached Lebanon our flight dropped to a mere 2000 feet. A mixture of apprehension and excitement rose up within me as I watched the skilled team of pilots execute a perfect landing on a crippled, 2200 metre length runway that would not under normal circumstances be deemed safe for such a large plane. As the aircraft's tailgate opened, airport workers rushed to offload supplies. As they coordinated the unloading, lorries moved about the runway taking supplies directly to reach thousands of displaced civilians in the besieged south. "The problem is getting assistance through to the people who need it," said Hassan Drar, Egypt's ambassador to Lebanon who welcomed the flight. "One of the things that's quite striking is how little aid is being delivered on the ground," he added. Medicine, food and other humanitarian relief piled up in Beirut on Saturday, with only a trickle making it to the tens of thousands of Lebanese trapped in the Israeli-created southern war zone. Help has been slowed by the dangerous logistics of arranging safe passage during Israeli air strikes, which have blasted several truck convoys that have made the dangerous journey so far. Doctors are using taxis to transport supplies because ambulances have also been targeted. Waiting with Ambassador Drar was a group of 16 Egyptians, including two women, who sought refuge at home. Lebanon's consul to Egypt, Claude Damashqi, also joined the Egyptian military flight back to Cairo. She was on vacation with her family in Beirut two weeks before the war. When she took a seat inside the aircraft, tears came to her eyes as she waved to her husband at the runway. "I was going to travel to Cairo through Damascus, but thanks to the Egyptian government, which exerts all efforts to help Lebanese diplomats and people in such a crisis, I can fly," she said. The trip back to Egypt was full of emotion and much sadness -- tales unfolded of struggling workers who paid thousands of dollars to stay legally in Lebanon now stripped of their work. All were from Delta villages in Daqahliya and Kafr Al-Sheikh governorates, mostly in Lebanon as seasonal workers, picking grapes and apples. Said Mohamed Ibrahim, 53, spent the last 20 years of his life chasing job opportunities in Saudi Arabia, Iraq and finally Lebanon where he had been working for two years. "If I had not done this, my three daughters would not have gotten married," he commented in bitterness as we rested on the floor inside the military aircraft. "We had been waiting for the fighting to stop, but this time it seems different, so we decided to go home." Atiat Mohamed Ali has been living in Lebanon for 35 years after getting married to a Lebanese driver. "My husband went on a trip to Damascus one day before the war. I waited for him to return in our house at Al-Naima village, but I have not heard from him since," she said. Atiat moved then to Al-Hamra district in Beirut to live with a Lebanese friend, waiting one week further but hearing nothing from her husband. "I witnessed the 1982 war and the raids in 1996, but this time it is horrible. They kill children without mercy," she exclaimed. Ali will stay with her family in Mansoura city and wait to hear from her husband. Three days on I was again on a mission to Beirut. This time I joined one of four planes that carried materials for a field hospital to help treat hundreds of causalities transported from the south. Those, one has to say, are the lucky ones. Hundreds of others are dying in their burnt and bombed villages. The field hospital includes operating theatres, x-ray facilities, and is capable of carrying out plastic surgery. As we entered Beirut for the second time, the scale of the devastation quickly became apparent. Beirut is now a city where one half is destroyed and the other half is residence for refugees settled in gardens. Thousands have fled Lebanon's southern villages to nowhere. In public parks, young women busy themselves cooking for their children while grandmothers lay on small blankets. The scene is surreal, and awful. Schools and governmental buildings have opened for refugees, but they cannot meet the increasing numbers. "We do not have enough food or milk for children. We do not know when the war will stop," complained an elderly woman. Her young daughter interrupted, saying: "God bless Nasrallah! We do not care if we die, but may God preserve Sayed [Nasrallah]. He is our dignity, not only the Lebanese but all the Arabs!"
