Arriving in Lebanon after last week's deadly Beirut blast, U.S. envoy David Hale bypassed politicians to head straight to a hard-hit neighborhood where young volunteers are helping people abandoned by their state.

Up until the eve of the deadly Beirut blast, Lebanese officials exchanged warnings over a dangerous chemical shipment in the port, but did nothing despite experts' fears it could cause a massive conflagration.

For nearly a week, Mona Zahran had to sleep on a couch pulled across her apartment's front door. Beirut's massive explosion knocked her doors off their hinges and shattered her windows, and she feared looters would take advantage of the chaos that has hit the Lebanese capital since.
It was the latest and probably most humiliating blow in the turbulent life of the 50-year-old.

The resignation of the government deepened political uncertainty as Beirut on Tuesday marked one week since the deadly port explosion rocked the capital and shook the nation to its core.
The August 4 blast, the country's worst peacetime tragedy which killed at least 160 people and wounded over 6,000, is widely blamed on state negligence and has ignited unprecedented popular rage against the ruling class.

Prime Minister Hassan Diab resigned on Monday in the wake of a massive explosion that devastated the capital Beirut and reignited angry anti-government protests over a spiraling economic crisis.

Lebanon's prime minister Hassan Diab, who resigned Monday, six days after the massive Beirut blast, owed his appointment late last year to public anger with the ruling elite, but in the end fell victim to it.

French President Emmanuel Macron has set the bar high in its strategy on Lebanon after the port blast that devastated Beirut, upping the pressure on the country's political elite by not just promising aid but also demanding radical reform.

White shirt sleeves rolled up, Emmanuel Macron waded through cheering crowds in the devastated streets of Beirut Thursday where disaster survivors pleaded with him to help get rid of their reviled ruling elite.

His head bandaged just like his patients, Dr Antoine Qurban said Tuesday's enormous blast brought "Armageddon" to Beirut's overwhelmed hospitals in chaotic scenes reminiscent of a war zone.

Heritage buildings, trendy bars and hip art galleries, all gutted: the vibrant Mar Mikhail district, once one of Beirut's gems, is now a wasteland of broken glass and destroyed cars.
