What’s going to explode next? The fridge? My phone? The scenes here in Lebanon are from a horror film – fleshless faces, eyes hanging out. With dozens dead and thousands hurt, none of us feel safe, writes HASSAN HARFOUSH

Thousands of walkie-talkies, solar panels and fingerprint recognition devices used by Hezbollah fighters have detonated across Lebanon in the past two days, killing 14 and wounding hundreds of people including mourners at a funeral.

The second wave of carnage hit a day after thousands of exploding pagers used by the group left almost 3,000 people injured and a dozen dead, including civilians and children.

Security sources confirmed that hand-held radios were purchased by Hezbollah five months ago, at around the same time as compromised pagers. Lebanese media has also reported that home solar energy systems have blown up in several areas of Beirut.

The ensuing panic has caused terrified residents to tear the batteries from their walkie-talkies and throw devices into the street in fear of more explosions. 

But how do you live if you don’t know where the next blasts might come from? 

Here, local journalist HASSAN HARFOUSH describes how daily life has turned into a horror film. 

When the dreadful sound of the explosions began, the women started ­crying. I was among the crowds at the funeral in Beirut yesterday for three men and a boy who had been killed 24 hours earlier when thousands of Hezbollah pagers had exploded in a coordinated attack.

Now it had started again. Two distinct pops, we heard, one coming from the ambulance that I assumed had brought the coffins to the funeral.

I saw a paramedic stumbling out of the vehicle which was billowing smoke. He collapsed and people rushed to help, but I was too far away to see how badly injured he was.

The Hezbollah officials present behaved as if nothing had happened but all of us felt it, heard it. We knew another attack was underway, though only later did we discover it was walkie-talkies and radios exploding this time.

As a journalist based in Lebanon, I have covered any number of conflicts and seen too many dead bodies. But nothing prepared me for the fear and carnage wrought by the events of the last two days.

Beirut has collapsed into panic. The WhatsApp groups are going non-stop. There are wild rumours doing the rounds that solar panels might explode, batteries, fridges – anything. There’s fake news saying phones have exploded. I know it’s stupid but I even told my parents to get a fire extinguisher, just in case ­something blows up in the house.

We’re all really scared; there is no safe place any more. Everyone knows what these explosions can do. In a Beirut hospital, I saw a man whose flesh had been torn from his face, the bones gruesomely visible. He was still conscious.

Doctors told me that faces and hands were the worst areas of injury.

Untold numbers have lost their eyesight as people were holding up the pagers to read messages when they exploded.

I was in a coffee shop on Tuesday ­afternoon in Ras Beirut, in the north west of the city, when I first realised something was wrong. I heard three pops, one after the other. Then my phone started going crazy. People were ­messaging me to ask what had ­happened, worried friends and family were calling.

My brother called to tell me he had heard lots of explosions and that the American University Medical Centre was overwhelmed. Most of the injured had been referred from other ­hospitals because of the extent of their wounds.

Outside, family members, barred from entry because of security, were crying and in shock. I watched dozens of people walk into the hospital with missing limbs. I saw people whose eyes had been popped out of their sockets. The scene was apocalyptic. The National, a leading newspaper here, spoke to a woman called Amal, who was waiting for news of her brother and cousins – they had been referred on from Bahman Hospital also in Beirut.

What she saw in Bahman had the makings of a horror film, she said. ‘There was blood everywhere, people without eyes, holes in their back and their hands covered in blood.’

Dr Elias Warrak, an ophthalmologist at Mount Lebanon University Hospital in Beirut, told the BBC the past 24 hours there had been ‘a nightmare’, adding that more than 60 to 70 per cent of the patients being treated ended up with at least one eye removed. A doctor I spoke to ­yesterday said he had performed 70 operations since the attacks began.

I drove on my motorbike to my home suburb of Dahiyeh in the south of ­Beirut. The streets were heaving with traffic; the ambulance sirens were deafening.

When I reached my own ­neighbourhood I found people ­screaming, shouting. A couple of older men grabbed me and told me to go home and turn off all my WIFI routers and anything connected to outlet that could be remotely detonated.

People used to think if they were affiliated with Hezbollah but not fighters, they were effectively safe. But this changes everything. The pager attacks happened in areas where you thought they could never happen – Christian areas, for example. But Hezbollah are everywhere in Lebanon and you can’t know who is who.

The attacks also happened on an average Beirut afternoon. The victims included a man in an ice-cream shop where children saw it happen; someone was in a grocery shop when his bag exploded damaging his internal organs; there were pagers in family homes where the shrapnel injured the children after they exploded.

There is one small silver lining, ­perhaps. The attacks have brought a sense of togetherness across the ­country. People from Sunni and ­Christian neighbourhoods have been queueing to donate blood. Even those who loathe Hezbollah have ­condemned this attack.But as a Lebanese person, the last two days have left me deeply saddened. There is a sense of fear that I’ve never felt before. And if these attacks continue, that fear will only grow.

Panic in Lebanon: Hezbollah destroys ‘thousands’ of pagers while army carries out controlled explosions on bags of parboiled rice from Thailand as fear and confusion sweeps the country 

By EMILY DAVIES 

Panic has caused chaos in Lebanon as terrified residents tear the batteries from their walkie-talkies and throw devices into the street in fear of more explosions. 

In a sign of the alarm caused by the devices, the Lebanese Armed Forces have been carrying out controlled explosions of suspicious items.

Lebanese soldiers took precautions when a device was found in the car park of a hospital where injured civilians are being taken.

They controlled the detonation of the device they suspected to be rigged with explosives in a pit of the parking lot at the American University of Beirut Medical Centre.

Pictures from the hospital show ambulances crowded together waiting to carry the injured inside.

But progress is slowed down by a flood of security measures as armed forces swarm the grounds. 

A residential building and multiple vehicles were seen on fire as sirens wailed for a second day across the Lebanese capital – with photos of the aftermath showing devastation.

Home solar energy systems also exploded this afternoon, along with fingerprint devices and radios.

A number of wireless devices exploded in Baalbek, northeast of Beirut, after their owners threw them into the streets later on Wednesday evening.

Many of the wounds were to the stomach and hands.

A reporter in the southern suburbs of Beirut said he saw Hezbollah members frantically taking batteries out of any walkie-talkies that had not exploded, tossing the parts in metal barrels.

And when explosions began booming at the funeral of a young boy killed in the first attack, attendees reacted in terror.

Panicking Hezbollah fighters were seen tearing the batteries from their walkie-talkies and tossing them into a pile on the ground as ambulances raced to the scene. 

Lebanese health officials said earlier on Wednesday that two children were among the 12 people killed. 

Pictures at a funeral showed mourners for Fatima Abdallah, nine, who died when her father’s pager exploded.

At one funeral in Dahiyeh, mourners were ordered to turn off their phones and remove the batteries

Firas, 39, who watched the funeral procession, told The Times: ‘Yesterday I witnessed an explosion first hand. I saw a pager explode on a man in a butcher shop close to my house. This is the second time I am witnessing an explosion. Everyone is really scared.’

Today, Iranians have placed carnations and a poster Fatma in front of the Lebanese Embassy in Tehran to denounce the deadly pager attacks in Lebanon and show solidarity with the Lebanese people.

Other tragic images show boy scouts raising the picture of a fellow scout, who was killed when hundreds of paging devices exploded.

Owners of electronic stores and mobile phone vendors said they have removed batteries from their stock as a precaution against explosions.

But kind-hearted civilians came together to donate blood to those who were injured in the attacks.

But the source of the exploding electronic devices remains unknown.

Pictures of a device surrounded by rice bags in the car park of the American University of Beirut Medical Centre read ‘product of Thailand’.

Other images of the exploded walkie-talkies showed labels with ‘ICOM’ and ‘made in Japan.’ According to its website, ICOM, which did not immediately reply to a request for comment, is a Japan-based radio communications and telephone company.

The company has said that production of model IC-V82, which appeared to be the model in the images, was phased out in 2014.The hand-held radios were purchased by Hezbollah five months ago, around the same time as the pagers, a security source said.

Taiwanese pager firm Gold Apollo said on Wednesday the model of pagers used in the attack against Hezbollah were made by Budapest-based BAC Consulting, adding it had only licensed its brand to the company and was not involved in the production of the devices.

‘Hungarian authorities have established that the company in question is a trading-intermediary company, which has no manufacturing or other site of operation in Hungary,’ Zoltan Kovacs, a government spokesman, said on social media.

The pagers used in mass detonations in Lebanon were never in Hungary, prime minister Viktor Orban’s government said.