Unearthing the Tragic Aftermath: Unveiling the Heartbreaking Burials of Libya's Devastating Flood Victims

The Tartoba cemetery outside the Libyan city of Derna remains quiet, even with numerous volunteers present. Clad in white hazmat suits, men diligently sprinkle lime over the earth, effectively sealing the graves that conceal hundreds of bodies. Adjacent to these mounds of dirt, one can observe cement bricks protruding, indicating the vast number of bodies interred below. Notably, excavators have prepared several lengthy trenches in anticipation of future arrivals.

"We are making arrangements based on the reported figures of casualties and missing individuals. It is assumed that the missing individuals are no longer alive. We can only pray that these figures are incorrect," shared Mohamed el-Sharwy, a man interviewed by CNN. Following the devastating floods in Derna last week, the school principal selflessly volunteered at the cemetery in his town.

According to data provided by the World Health Organization (WHO), nearly 4,000 lives have been lost in Derna as a result of intense rainfall and the collapse of two dams, leading to destructive floods. The whereabouts of thousands of individuals still remain unknown.

"I have friends in Derna, both from school and work," he shares, emphasizing our close proximity to the area. In the initial days, he mournfully recalls recognizing the faces of his acquaintances amidst the corpses he was responsible for burying. The absence of any covering on the bodies was particularly distressing, making the experience exceedingly arduous for him.

School principal Mohamed el-Sharwy is among those volunteering at the cemetery.

In the initial 72 hours following the catastrophe, health officials reported that over 2,500 individuals were hastily laid to rest in order to prevent the spread of infections and diseases. The sheer volume of deceased individuals overwhelmed the city's hospitals and morgues, rendering them incapable of handling the influx.

Tartoba, one of the three designated cemeteries for flood victims, received over 1,000 bodies within the first week. Initially, the deceased were laid to rest in graves divided by cement bricks, accommodating six or seven bodies each. However, as time passed, decomposed and bloated bodies retrieved from the sea and debris necessitated smaller compartments, with each holding only three bodies.

Recognizing the need for larger mass graves, the volunteers quickly realized that visual identification became impossible. As a result, officials began collecting DNA samples prior to burial. It was announced that bodies interred without these tests during the early stages would be exhumed at a later time for DNA testing.

Two trucks entering Tartoba bring a flurry of activity, yet an atmosphere of hushed reverence remains. As the sun descends, numerous men gather to offer funeral prayers for the victims, known only by their assigned numbers. Afterwards, they carefully lower the white body bags into a newly dug grave, specifically prepared to accommodate the 35 bodies. Along the edge of the grave, men stand with shovels in hand, steadily burying the deceased as excavators complete the task.

"The magnitude of this tragedy is unfathomable. Sleep eludes me, as I am haunted by the weight of it all. The nights offer only brief respite before I must return to my duties the next day," laments Sharwy.

Akram al-Kawwash (left) and Abdallah al-Sheikh have not been able to find the bodies of their family members in Derna.

Sarah Sirgany of CNN reports that in the devastated neighborhood of Derna, an overwhelming sense of trauma and grief hangs in the air. Akram al-Kawwash, aged 54, sits on the debris of what used to be his brother's home, his eyes swollen and red from a constant flow of tears.

"I have lost my brother and his children along with this house, which used to belong to him. My entire world has fallen apart, including my neighbors. This house, where we sit now, holds sentimental value," he utters, clutching a fistful of soil while leaning against the remnants of a crumbled wall.

As he desperately tries to recall the final conversation he had with his brother, just two days prior to the devastating floods, he becomes overwhelmed with sorrow and breaks down into uncontrollable sobs. His hand shields his face as his trembling fingers press firmly against his closed eyelids.

Graffiti on a building damaged by flooding in Derna, Libya reads "Rest in peace, mom."

Surrounded by fellow survivors also searching for their loved ones, he sits beneath a makeshift tent in front of buildings shattered by devastation. In this solemn space, graffiti offers a poignant farewell. Etched on one wall, the words "Rest in peace, mom" stand as a tribute.

Abdallah al-Sheikh, 48, shares the devastating loss of 25 members of his family. Unfortunately, only four of their bodies were recovered, leaving him emotionally numb.

"My wife, mother, siblings, nephews, neighbors - none of them have been found. The only solace I had was finding my deceased son at the hospital and personally extracting my one surviving child," he recalls.

During the neighborhood flooding, he bravely leaped from one rooftop to another while holding his 10-year-old son. Once the floodwaters receded, he embarked on a desperate search for the rest of his family.

"I didn't receive any assistance. The only support came from our neighbors lending a helping hand," he recalls. With a heavy heart, he combed through the debris, desperately hoping to locate his loved ones. However, all he discovered were the lifeless bodies of his neighbors and a handful of fortunate survivors.

"This is Gods will. Its a cruel one. But we accept it," Kawwash says. Like Sheikh, he has yet to find the bodies of his family.