I sit here numb and dismayed, writing a day after the
attacks in Paris that so far have left 128 dead. Innocent people killed whilst
watching a football match in the Stade de France, as two suicide bombers opened
fire in a shock that the French nation is struggling to come to terms with. Bombs
have been detonated and gunshots fired in six targeted locations around Paris,
leaving bodies still in the streets, blood on the pavements, and fear in the
hearts of the French people.
Now, I live in France. I’m on my year abroad as part of my
studies and am currently residing in Marseille. So I’m far away from where all
this happened. My first reaction when I heard the news was shock. The first
attack to which my attention was drawn to was the one that took place just
outside the national football stadium during a friendly between France and
Germany. My first thought was that this had been a carefully planned attack:
for suicide bombers to target hordes of innocent people only there to watch a
bit of footy with their friends and families must have required serious
preparation. I threw my plans to have an early night out of the window and sat
attentively in front of the TV, watching the news unfold. As it was revealed
that the attacks had taken place on a larger scale, including at a concert hall
and cafés and restaurants, my attention immediately turned to my friends: this
year many of them are spending their year abroad in Paris. Hearing the gunshots
reverberating from the videos and seeing the scale of the disaster, I feared
for them. I worried that they might be out on the same streets that were
flashing across the plasma screen TV I was watching.
I went to Facebook to check that they were OK. I was
relieved to be met by statuses letting me know that certain friends were safe
and well, but with every realisation that there was another friend in Paris who
hadn’t yet been accounted for, I began to type out frantic messages make sure
they were away from the danger. Gladly
within the next hour and a half I heard from them all and was assured that they
were safe, breathing a sigh of relief each time I saw that another friend had checked
in as ‘safe’ on Facebook. However the extent of the gravity of the situation
did really hit home when I read the responses of some of my friends – saying
that there were so close that they had even heard the gunshots of the
terrorists. My heart went out to them all and in my grieving and shock all I
could do was pray for them and for Paris.
Soon everyone was caught up in the drama: those in the UK
that initially hadn’t known what was going on started posting statuses
encouraging the world to #prayforparis, and rightly condemning the actions of
these lost psychotics that had taken so many lives on this Friday 13th
November. I even had people checking to ask if I was OK.
After the initial shock had worn off and I had the comfort
of knowing that all my friends were safe, I couldn’t help but think to myself, This is what people in Syria and Libya go
through every day. Just the week before the church school I work at here in
Marseille had been visited by the headmaster of the Christian school we’re
partnered with and supporting in Libya, called ‘L’Ecole de la Paix’ (The School
of Peace). The school had been set up in Tripoli at a time when Libya was in
complete ruins: everything had been burned to a pulp; there were no schools;
hospitals were damaged, and the city had descended into anarchy. As he spoke,
my eyes were opened to the daily reality of living in a country torn apart by
war and terror. The children at this school only had 4-hour school days because
if they were to set out for home too late there was a high risk that they would
be gunned down before they even reached the door-step. The principal of this
school himself had been shot and another time confronted at gun-point with his
two young children in the car, the oldest of whom is only seven. And all this
happening in a country where the police is basically non-existent and crimes
cannot be tracked and investigated. I imagined living my childhood in this
predicament, finding myself in a daily battle with life and death.
That’s what I find myself thinking of now, the day after the
Paris attacks. Terrorism isn’t new. It is a daily reality for many people.
We’ve been hearing for years about suicide bombings in Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel,
Palestine, Syria, Libya… Why is it when it happens in Paris that we suddenly
wake up to the reality and the seriousness of the situation? The news bulletins
say it all: France (of course), the UK, the States, everyone’s thinking in
blue, white and red.
The last time Paris was attacked was in January. The twelve
Charlie Hebdo journalists who were gunned down lost their lives on the same day
an estimated 2,000 innocent civilians were massacred by Boko Haram, the
Islamist extremist terrorist group, in Baga, Nigeria. I didn’t hear much about
the attacks in Baga but I did hear an awful lot about Paris, and saw heads of
state sending their condolences to the French capital, whilst the people of
Nigeria suffered in silence. Next to no-one was thinking in green, white and
green.
Today, in the aftermath of the Paris attacks which have left
128 dead, I have been enveloped by the news updates of the horrific killings that
took place yesterday all day. The French
borders have been closed and the leaders of the biggest states in the world
have announced their solidarity with France. My Facebook feed is full of
friends who have stamped their profile pictures with the French flag to reflect
their unity with the people of Paris.
I am glad to see this humanity. This shared spirit which
cares for the suffering of others and calls our hearts to pray for peace, to
the point that even those that typically identify as agnostics or even atheists
join in praying for Paris. But I am awakened to the irony of it all: this
humanity has been largely dormant when we have seen the news bulletins over the
past decade or so alerting us to suicide bomb attacks and terror on the same innocent civilians in Syria, Libya,
Egypt, Palestine, Israel, Afghanistan, the list goes on. I too am guilty: I
feel a pang of pain and shock when I see these bulletins but after a few
moments I continue with my life because I am not affected. My family in Nigeria
is far away from where the Boko Haram attacks have been taking place so after a
while I’ve developed a sort of mild immunisation even to that.
Paris has stirred me: it has given me an inkling of what it
feels like to live in dread that those you love are in danger of dying at the
hands of crazed terrorists. It has reminded me that this is only one example of
what has been happening for years around the world. It has pointed out a
characteristic of our human nature: we pay the most attention to things that directly
affect us. It has taken seeing such horror so close to home to realise just how
horrible it is.
The attacks in Paris have marked a new turning point: next
time I see or hear about terrorist attacks in Syria or Palestine and such
countries, I will not listen for a few seconds and then go about my business. I
will give them the time they deserve, just as I have spent time following the
news of what’s happened in Paris, knowing that they have the same evils in
common, all being heinous attacks by misguided individuals on innocent people. I
will not satisfy myself with the excuse that I don’t know enough about the
crisis in the Middle East to follow what is happening. I will go and educate
myself. Murder is horrible, no matter what colour the skin it’s inflicted on
and no matter the country.
I’d like to hope that instead of thinking just in blue,
white and red we will think in the colours of the world. Facebook’s novel idea
to stamp people’s profile pictures with the colours of the République is a
great way to show solidarity and support for France, but it leaves untold the
stories of the countries that live this terror every day. I’d like to see the defiant
stripes of the Syrian, Libyan, Iraqi, Palestinian, Israeli, Lebanese, Nigerian (etc…)
flags introduced as stamps for Facebook profile pictures too.
The same humanity that has led me to pray for Paris will urge me to pray for the others.
No comments:
Post a Comment