Sunday 28 February, 2026. Day 1…
I bounced out of bed at 6.30am to go for a sunny early morning walk with my friend Dee. We hadn’t seen each other in weeks, and had a lot to catch up on. We drove down to Lusail and walked 8km along the coast in the warm spring sunshine, chatting happily about our children and our plans for the summer.
Around 9.30, I dropped Dee home and had just walked into the kitchen to make tea when the first BBC alert popped up – Israel announced that it was attacking Iran. Not long after, the US said the same. My stomach sank. This was going to be big.
Things escalated quickly, and within a short time, we were receiving emergency warnings from the Qatari government – blaring instructions through our phones to take shelter and stay home. The airspace shut down. Flights immediately cancelled. Embassies were issuing warnings to citizens.
And then the first booms began. Distant but loud. Unmistakable thuds as interception rockets chased missiles across the skies, sending debris and shrapnel hurtling to the ground across the city.
Parents quickly gathered their children, everyone retreated into their homes. Some went to underground metros or car parks, scared of what the day could still bring.
As the afternoon went on, the explosions seemed to be constant, as over 40 missiles were intercepted and detonated over the city. The explosions came in waves – getting louder as the day went on.
As evening approached, the booms became louder and more intense – making windows rattle and walls shake. Earlier in the day, I had tried telling my daughter that each bang was probably just a neighbour moving furniture or a car door slamming. By the evening, the lies were no longer credible.
Unsure what to do for the best, I packed a small suitcase for us, plus a backpack with water and some food. At the very least, if the explosions got too much, we would walk to the closest metro station and stay underground. Some of our neighbours were already there, others were sheltering in mall underground car parks.
I made a makeshift bed for my daughter and myself – downstairs, in the playroom, behind some boxes and far from the large windows that dominated most of the house.
She already knew that school was canceled the following day . She was both excited about skipping school and having a sleepover with Mama, but at the same time unmistakably anxious about the reasons all this was happening. My reassurances throughout the day seemed to fall aside once she caught sight of my hastily prepared luggage by the door.
Luckily, despite a few tears, she fell asleep easily – and stayed asleep as the house shook to the sound of explosions shortly before midnight.
Sunday, 1 March – Day 2:
Although we were woken up to the house shaking from explosions, the number did decline over the course of the day, as the military intercepted more missiles over the sea. Some 16 people had been injured on Saturday by falling debris.
We had of course been informed that there would be no school today, and worksheets would be sent to all pupils. As Stella and I sat down to tackle Year 5 maths together, I was reminded of the captivity traumas of Covid – but this time it was much scarier.
Sadly, the worksheet took Stella all of 30 minutes, which left us with a lot of time to kill. Knowing how sensitive she is, I didn’t want her pondering why she wasn’t at school, so we had to keep her busy. She made chocolate ice cream, chocolate lava cakes and two different types of smoothie. We made lavender bags for her friends, and played board games. I wondered how we were going to keep this up for weeks…
I began to notice physiological changes – my jaw was locked. My stomach felt sick. And the slightest noise – from a chair moving to a car door closing made me jump out of my skin.
Monday 2 March – day 3:
Again we were woken up by the house shaking and explosions overhead. I began checking headlines every five minutes, trying to understand what was happening and where this would go. Missiles struck a water tanker and an LNG production site in Qatar – making me even more worried that Iran was looking to drag its neighbours deeper into this quagmire. How would it ever end?
Stella still had very little work from school, so watched a lot of TV and baked more cookies. By the late afternoon we realized that some of the compound children were outdoors, so we ventured to the basketball court, and she spent a good hour playing there, which did her so much good…
By the evening she was complaining of stomach ache. She began to cry and said she couldn’t breathe and her heart was beating fast. She was in a panic but seemed really worried. I wanted to rule out appendicitis, so I took her to the hospital where she had a bunch of tests and thankfully started to calm down. The tests didn’t show anything significant, so we went home just after midnight – shattered but relieved. I guessed that I wasn’t the only one having a physiological reaction to what was happening around us.
Tuesday 3 March – day 4:
Although the first explosions came around 1.30am and again at 2.30am, I managed to sleep late thankfully – following the previous night’s hospital visit.
Stella’s class started online lessons today, which kept her occupied for a few more hours than on previous days.
I was starkly reminded of Covid homeschooling, watching the teacher grapple with the lack of mute/unmute skills of 24 10-year-olds.
The news was alarming – Israel now entering into intense attacks on Lebanon. Qatar’s forces had thwarted two fighter jets. The Straight of Hormuz was now closed, oil prices hit the sky. European countries were being dragged into this. The war was entering new territory and there was no end in sight.
At 9am, Qatar Airways announced that the Qatari airspace would remain closed. Still no way in or out – and yet the American government was now somehow advising all their citizens to leave immediately (without suggesting how), to the great confusion of many American neighbours and colleagues.
Some of the WhatsApp chats were becoming increasingly nervous. People were starting to take matters into their own hands and somehow get themselves across the Saudi border, hoping to get a visa and a flight out of Riyadh. Should we do the same? There were conflicting reports – some saying it was easy, with others sending back horror stories of crowds and cancellations and 16-hour drives to Jeddah to try again from there.
Should we try it? And how? With Bartek out of the country, decision-making felt so heavy by myself. While we felt rattled but safe in Doha, would we come to regret not finding any way out if things deteriorated? It was impossible to say, as this war didn’t seem to have any clear goals.
Wednesday 4 March – day 5:
We didn’t get woken up by the sound of explosions today, so that was a plus. There were some interceptions overnight, but they were further out over the sea.
Two of Stella’s friends came over for home schooling for a few hours, which helped me to focus a bit more on my work than I have managed to do the rest of the week. I don’t think they did much learning, but at least they kept themselves entertained.
I left the compound for the first time – to collect my new debit card from the bank and then to take the kitten to the vet. I felt nervous at first – mainly to leave Stella, but also being out in the open. But I soon realized that there were hundreds of others on the road – quietly going about their days and their business.
It was becoming clear that more and more people were getting out and driving to Saudi, to fly from Riyadh. I started to get Instagram ads for transportation services that can take you to Riyadh airport for thousands of dollars… At the same time, if you ignored the news and the lack of flights, things were feeling more normal in Doha. The military were doing an admirable job of intercepting all missiles, sending warnings in advance, sending out the all clear as soon as they could, and keeping everyone informed across their channels – which all provided a greater sense of security. Shops and restaurants were opening, as well as gyms and some offices. It felt like life was running on two parallel tracks – while hundreds were fleeing, thousands more were calm and pragmatic. Both camps had a very different view of how this would pan out. Trying to listen to both felt like being pulled in opposite directions.
To complicate matters further, some news outlets were reporting that it was Israel that has been targeting the Gulf countries’ energy and airport infrastructure to aggravate relations and drag this all out. Other media were reporting by the evening that the Qatari and Iranian foreign ministers had a call, which we assumed would be a signal of better news ahead.
Thursday 5 March, day 6:
We woke up to news that many of the residential areas around us had been evacuated at 1.30am by the authorities, due to potential attacks on the US embassy, which is less than 2 miles from the house. The compound WhatsApp group was going nuts with panic and rumours – best not to read it…
I was feeling pretty tearful – the weight of wanting to run but needing to stay calm felt like it was weighing me down. I went for a walk around the compound – which was empty – and had a few tears.
None of Stella’s friends came round – everyone just wanted to stay in their own homes. She started online lessons and at least got to see a few friends on zoom while I worked.
Our HR team said they would support people living in vulnerable areas who wanted to relocate to hotels, so I booked into one in Katara for Stella, Kate (our helper) and me for a few nights.
Around 11.30am the explosions started again – the house shook, the windows rattled, and it felt like the missiles were being intercepted right over our heads. I stopped my meetings and took Stella to shelter in the playroom, trying to keep calm… There were two waves – maybe 15 or 20 interceptions in total.
Most analysis now seems to agree that this is going to continue for a few weeks. More friends are making it out and going back home. I feel more and more inclined to do the same. But at the same time I think it’s good for Stella to keep her routine, be with the cats, play with her friends when possible. It’s just so hard to know what to do.
I feel like I’m stuck in a doom loop of not knowing what to do or where to go. I can’t focus, I forget what I’m doing and I’m really jumpy…
Friday 6 March, day 7:
We were woken up around 3am by the sound of emergency alarms blaring through the phones, warning everyone to shelter in place. I was just getting back to sleep when another one came in. It had been a drone attack that got intercepted.
Stella and I had stayed in the hotel to be further from the airport. So we got to enjoy a nice sea view and the big breakfast buffet. The place was so quiet, I think only 2 or 3 other families were staying in the whole hotel. By the afternoon, Stella was bored. We were planning to go back to the compound so she could play with her Finnish friends, but it turned out they were on an evacuation bus to Riyadh… More and more of the embassies are now offering to evacuate their nationals and put them up in Riyadh until they can get flights out.
We went over to Aleha’s house in the late afternoon. While we were there, the emergency alarms sounded again – it seems there had been a total of 10 drones fired at Qatar over the day.
By the evening, Qatar Airways had announced some relief flights would leave Qatari airspace on Saturday – giving a glimmer of hope that some respite may be coming…
Saturday 7 March, day 8:
Today we went through the whole spectrum of emotions… In the morning, Stella and I were having breakfast in the hotel, when Noreen sent me a link to an article – the President of Iran had apologized to neighbouring countries for sending missiles their way, and pledged not to hit them any more. What a relief – we had hope that things would go back to normal, for us at least. I shared the good news with friends, family and colleagues.
Then 15 minutes later, the emergency alarms sounded, and the missiles came in again… The IRGC clearly did not agree with the President, and wanted to continue attacking not only US bases but also energy infrastructure in the region.
The day’s headlines from Iran were confusing – several senior figures openly disagreeing with the President. And the President himself felt the need to clarify that his promise would only be upheld if Iran’s neighbours did not allow the US to use their territory to launch attacks.
We had a barbecue for friends in the evening. Around half way through the alarms sounded again and we headed indoors to check the kids were ok. As the missiles exploded, none of the children showed the slightest concern and we all went back to our meal. What a surreal existence….
Monday 9 March, day 10:
The new leader of Iran was announced – the son of the former Ayatollah. The news does not spell optimism for any kind of swift resolution. He is known to be a hardliner and the IRGC has already pledged allegiance. The announcements and headlines coming from Iran took a decidedly belligerent tone…
Again we were woken up at 3am to the sound of the emergency alarms. Stella and I had stopped sleeping downstairs and gone back to our bedroom. I got into bed with her as the walls started shaking – she didn’t wake up, but it took me hours to get back to sleep.
After her online lessons had finished, Stella went to Martina’s house and from there they headed to the playground. At 3pm the alarms sounded again and I panicked as I wasn’t with her. Thankfully Claudia was there, and one of the mums who lived next to the playground scooped up all the kids and took them into her home until we got the all clear.
It was feeling like an end was not in sight…
Late in the evening Donald Trump made some odd statements about the war being over ‘very soon’. But it wasn’t…
Wednesday 11th March, day 12:
Today was my turn to go into the office. A few days earlier, the government had requested all companies to have at least 30% of staff back in the office. The alerts and interceptions were working well, and people were trying to get back to normal to the extent possible. Plus, Tuesday had seen only one interception in the mid-afternoon.
I was looking forward to getting out, seeing people, and getting out of my gym clothes. There was an alert early morning before I left home, and we hoped that would be it for the day.
When I got to the office, it felt extremely empty – there were a couple of guys from Finance there, but all my meetings were done on Teams because most people were at home. Noor came in too and we had a nice chat, but I could see she was agitated and nervous. Around 1pm, while I was on the Business Continuity Committee call, the alarms went off and we sheltered in the stairwell. Noor looked pretty shaken up, so I told her to go home.
There were more alarms in the evening, and Iran declared that it would start hitting American companies and banks in the region as ‘legitimate targets’. That definitely felt like a serious escalation, and I told my team that nobody should go into the office if they didn’t want to from now on… I began to look for more flight options.
Friday 13th March, day 14:
I had managed to book a flight for Saturday, so spent a lot of time checking and re-checking the Qatar Airways app to make sure it wasn’t cancelled. This must have been my fourth or fifth booking so far and all the others had been cancelled. One of my bookings was with British Airways from Riyadh, but a couple of days earlier, BA had cancelled all their upcoming flights to the region, causing panic.
Meanwhile, the British Embassy were saying they were helping thousands of Brits get home, but they certainly hadn’t contacted me, despite me registering my presence on day 1 of the war. When I had called them earlier in the week, they told me to just be patient…
We stayed around the compound during the day, but went to the mall at 6pm to meet Noreen and family for iftar. The mall was packed and we had to wait more than 45 minutes for a table at Cheesecake Factory. People were determined to carry on with their lives, with their fasts, and not to be defeated by fear in this holiest of months.
We had no missiles today, and everyone was feeling optimistic that things may calm down in Doha. At the same time, one look at the headlines was enough to show that the war was escalating and Iran was taking an upper hand by closing the Straight of Hormuz.
Saturday 14th March, day 15:
At around 1.30am, the emergency alert sounded, brutally waking me up. Shortly after, the house shook as the booms reverberated across the sky. My heart was pounding in my chest and I struggled to get back to sleep for hours.
We soon learned that the Mushreib and Education City districts had been evacuated by the authorities just after midnight, with all residents sheltering in underground car parks or metros. It would appear that the targets were the US companies in Mushreib and the US universities in Education City. It feels like things are reaching another dimension now.
It was probably close to 4am when I finally got back to sleep. Then at 5.45 I was woken up again by more blasts. This time the blasts came before the emergency alert, which was not a good sign if the authorities didn’t get enough time to warn people.
Exhausted, I got up at 7am, again checking our flight to make sure it was leaving on time. We left home at 8.30, Stella worrying about what would happen to the cats while we were gone.
I saw quite a few colleagues at the airport – everyone looked exhausted, frazzled, and at the end of their patience. At the same time, in all our conversations, there is so much anger and frustration at the injustice and utter madness of what is taking place. Watching Trump or – even worse – Pete Hegseth – is an almost surreal experience. Our region is imploding around us. With each day that passes, we seem to be sliding down a steeper slope of death, destruction, widening conflict, collateral damage and economic collapse. And yet these all-powerful ignorant clowns speak so arrogantly of victory and success. They unflinchingly patronize the entire world with their insulting talk of good and evil – as if they are in any position to judge. Meanwhile the world pays the price for their misjudged violence.
We had breakfast with Claudia, Martina and Olivia, bought some water and headed to the gate. I met yet more colleagues getting on the plane – all pained to be leaving but feeling that they no longer have the luxury of choice in the matter.
We took off half an hour late, and I watched the flight path intensely until we were well over Saudia Arabia. I had never felt such relief to be airborne…
Site Title 