She reminisces: “I arrived at work unusually early for me, at 8:20, went straight to my office, turned on my laptop and started watering my plants. Then all of a sudden I was being tossed towards the door and hearing the most deafening blast. The next few seconds were a blur.

When I finally managed to gather myself up I realized I was walking on shattered glass and debris. I saw blood and realized it was my own. I heard people shouting and knew something had gone terribly wrong. I felt extremely weak now and just wanted to leave the building.

The shock and horror of that moment was made worse by the loss of two of our colleagues. It is said that what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, and this is exactly what I felt. I still think I am lucky to be alive and this has given me the strength to go on. The full impact of this hit me a little later when I saw what remained of my office - nothing.

Later I wondered, along with many other people, whether we were doing the right thing by continuing to work. Sometimes our lives were in danger and we were afraid.

After all these years the ICRC has become my home and my colleagues have become my family. Leaving has never been an option for me. We encounter mishaps and disappointments but the satisfaction we get when we manage to help people makes up for this. We all want to do more but it is not always possible.

Some colleagues decided to leave for understandable reasons. Many had family, children, mothers, fathers, or wives. They had people to support. All I can say is that those of us who stayed feel very united and encouraged to work. Teamwork gave us the impetus we need. We have had a great challenge and have all had to be strong.

I have an indelible image of that fateful October day on my mind. Despite the fighting, we were out in the streets, working and talking to people. If only I could do that again. No matter what, the space for humanitarian action should remain sacred, and hope should always be kept alive”.

Khalid Khalid