Prayers Badly Needed

I didn’t want to talk about this but it’s driving me insane and I needed an outlet. If this feels wrong in the future, I will take it down.

When I saw the Blogtember prompt for last Friday: “A story about a time you were very afraid” I dismissed it because who wants to remember a time they were afraid? Not me.

But this morning, I was forced to remember. I woke up to the news that my hometown was under attack by terrorists who had resorted to human shields.

A friend based here had posted that the shooting was right outside her home. Her family was packed for evacuation but they had been too late and stayed locked inside the house. Thank God they weren’t taken, but the gunfight is still ongoing and they are locked inside in terror. I feel so bad for them. 🙁

I immediately tried to call my mom but couldn’t connect. I knew that she was far away from where it was happening, but I couldn’t help but feel fear and panic and tears just started streaming from my eyes.

I finally got to her, and she sounded calm and said she was okay and just asked for prayers, and I had to fight to keep my voice from shaking as I said okay.

She is safe, but I still can’t stop thinking about it. What if the situation worsened?

I found out I’m not alone, when a friend posted this status: “Can’t concentrate. Worried for my family back home. My only weapon now is prayer.”

Another friend and I chimed in with: “same here :(”

My close friends, whose family actually got hostaged before, are going out of their minds with worry and fear and panic mixed with memories dredged up from long ago. I witnessed what happened then, and I know what I felt was nothing compared to what they must have gone through.

Yes, this isn’t the first time this happened. Back in 2001, when I was still a college student, I woke up at dawn to study for a long quiz for my major subject. As the light started to break, my mom went into my room to tell me: “You can stop studying, classes have been suspended.”

I looked at her in bewilderment. “What? But why?”

She gestured outside, “Don’t you hear that? There’s a gunfight instigated by terrorists, so they have suspended work and classes.”

Sure enough, now that she had pointed it out, I could hear the faint sound of gunshots in the distance. I had been too focused on solving Accounting problems that I hadn’t heard. I am ashamed to say that a part of me was then relieved that our exams had been postponed, and I tried to text my classmates to confirm this, but there was no signal on my cellphone. Weird. I would later find out that the terrorists had something to do with this too.

Luckily, the landline still worked, and my friend Ronald used it to call to me to tell me: “Turn on the TV. Sir E has been hostaged.” What???

So I turned it on, and sure enough, I saw the news showing the terrorists marching down the road with human shields that they had forcibly taken from their own homes. My teacher, the father of my friends, was at the front of the pack, with his wife beside him.

But that wasn’t even the most terrible part. Their youngest daughter, who was then 8 years old, was being held by a terrorist with an armalite gun pointed straight at her. Why would anyone do that to a child??

I am actually crying as I type this. It was such a terrible scene to watch, and that was a very long day for us. Thankfully they were all released later that night, but that wasn’t just a day-long ordeal for the hostages, no. My teacher and his family was so traumatized from that event that it took over a year for the sad haunted look to leave his eyes, and it was painful to see, because our teacher was a very jolly person who called himself Mr. Bean.

Years after the event, my friends still cannot bear to talk about it, it still makes their heart ache, and now, at times like these, it dredges up memories that you think you have gotten over from, but never really will.

So yes, right now is a time when I am very afraid. It’s a terrible feeling that I wish upon no one. But there is nothing I can do now but pray. Please pray with me. My city needs it.

P.S. I realize that I should stop thinking about it, because it literally makes my heart hurt and my worrying does no good for anyone.

That I shouldn’t feel guilty about not worrying about it is actually more of the problem. I need to remind myself that it’s okay to live my life, to think about other things, to be happy.

It reminds me of a line from the book My Sister’s Keeper, when someone tells the mother of cancer-stricken Kate:

Kate is not going to die sooner because you have one more glass of wine, or because you stay overnight in a hotel, or because you let yourself crack up at a bad joke.

The funny thing is I worry more than the people back home. In fact my flatmates’ family carried on going to a birthday party tonight, and my mom took ages to answer my call because she was napping.

If they can relax, so can I.