Thursday, July 07, 2005

there are no words...

Jim and I got home yesterday and after our many travels in England, Paris and Switzerland, I was ready to be home again. This morning I woke up thinking I would write some today about our experiences since I last wrote (computer access was hard to come by the last couple of weeks) and then this I turned on the internet (and subsequently the tv) to find out that my hometown for the last month had been bombed. The bombs occured in the Tube (underground) and on one double decker bus around the area where I went to school. I watched in deep sadness as I saw emergency crews stationed on the corner of the very street I crossed every day to go to school at Russell Square. My eyes filled with tears as I remembered all the trips I took on the tube -- the trains filled each day with hundreds of people from all walks of life going to work, going to school, going to by groceries, etc. Innocent people who had no idea that their lives were about to change. People who like me, felt safe and secure in the streets and tubes of London because it IS a safe city and even most police (except for those around important financial and political centres) don't have guns. And I thought of my new friends made and am wondering how best to get in touch with them and find out if they are okay. But even if they are okay physically I know that mentally and emotionally, many feelings and fears must be swirling about. I know I want to do something, but I don't know what to do to help. I think also of my new friend Shakira, whom I met at a workshop on diversity and conflict resolution, and how she expressed the frustration she felt about being discriminated against because she was Pakistani. And I think about the time we spent in an area of London in which a large Bengali, Indian, and Pakistani populations live and I worry for them. I worry because I fear that many innocent people, peace-loving and God-loving Muslims may take abuse as a result of these bombings. I attended the London Mosque while there and I learned about the Muslim faith while sitting bare-footed on the same floor on which the daily prayers were said. And I learned that in the Muslim faith one can ask forgiveness and must make right many sins. But one sin that cannot be made-up for ("How can you give back a life that was taken?" said our teacher) is murder. I wish I could be there to talk and listen and hold the hand of my friend Shakira and so many others.

But all these words cannot truly communicate my feelings today. There are no words...