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Thursday 24 March 2016

My experience living through a terrorist attack

My original plan for this post was to share with you the memories and moments of my first city break to Brussels. However, in light of the events that took place during my final day there, 22.03.16, it would no longer be enough to discuss merely the beauty of the buildings nor the richness of the food in order to summarise my experience on this trip. I am not going to try to speak very politically about the attacks, for that is an area beyond my realm of understanding, and to suggest there is a way of actually comprehending the mentalities behind these events, to me appears absurd. Thus, before I begin, I would like to emphasise that the only part of these attacks that I can assume complete understanding of would be my own feelings. As someone who was side-lined and barely present during the attacks, I could not insult the severity of what happened by even attempting to have partaken in the true fear that the victims themselves experienced.
The recent terrorist attacks in Brussels were probably the closest I have ever come to any true form of immediate danger, and yet, in actual fact, I was nowhere near. Yes, I was staying in the city of Brussels, close to the airport, and used the targeted metro station the very day before, but I wasn’t there, and to suggest that I deserve any sympathy would be wrong. The frantic and worried messages I received on the day included ‘it must have been so stressful for you’ and ‘I can’t even imagine how you are feeling right now’. Yes, obviously it was not the nicest experience for me to live through, but for the life of me, I could not imagine why people were giving me so much attention when all I saw was the stream of police cars and ambulances rushing around the city, all I felt was the terror for those involved. I did not feel deserving of all this pity that should have been reserved for the people who actually lived through the horror. I was relatively unaffected, moved from the hostel straight into the coach and then straight out of the city- what about the people who could not escape that terror, the people who never will?
To discuss the complexity of all my feelings on yesterday’s events in a simple blog post would be an impossible task. But I guess the above paragraph summarises my initial response, obviously I understand that friends and family are always going to care for you when you are in a dangerous situation, but what I couldn’t understand were the people who ‘milked it’ as it were. Those who I was with, who were on the phones to their parents discussing the fear they felt, how close it was to being them, and so on in such a manner. The closest we came to the events was seeing an ambulance streak past the coach, and to use this situation in such a manner to create sympathy for yourself, not only undermines the true tragedy, but is almost insulting to the people who actually experienced it.
The other major feeling I can discuss is that of the inevitable shock- a shock that has only intensified with an increased distance and time from the actual events. The further we travelled from Brussels, the more and more people we saw, who were not there, and with whom I could no longer relate. Throughout the journey, I was sheltered within the coach, reliving the experience with those who shared the same feelings as me. To suddenly come across people who weren’t there, who undoubtedly read the stories, felt shocked and horrified, but then were able to quickly move on with their lives was almost surreal. This event that would stay with me for the rest of my life was just a news headline for other people, something distant and removed from reality for most people. It is true I have spent the initial half of this post discussing the practical irrelevance of my experience, and yet my physical closeness to the attacks has still taught me a great deal. Whilst, having been a potential victim I do not feel is a viable reason for sympathy when there are actual victims involved, I do believe it a viable means for provoking personal growth. This may sound dramatic, but waking up on Tuesday morning to hear that the metro station I was at the day before had been bombed, the terrorists who killed several people may have walked past me in the street, and the girl I said goodnight to the day before might have died that morning (one of the girls staying in my room was at the airport during the time of the bombing), you come to realise just how close to home these situations really are. In the world of today, the terrorist threat is not one anyone is safe from anymore. Further than that, however, this message extends to diseases, car accidents, shootings- life is not certain, and should never be taken for granted. Nor however, is it something to be treated lightly. I began to think, if I had been a victim, would my life have been worthwhile. Have I achieved enough, have I meant something? I could have been the victim that people, upon reflection, had passed by in the streets, said goodnight to just before, and if I had been, would my 18 years on this planet have been a waste? I do not wish to say that good that has come of these attacks- for the death and injuries of hundreds can never be said to amount to any measure of good. I am merely trying to say that sometimes close-calls such as these are beneficial for personal grounding. They help you to re-evaluate what is important. For me, my experience with these terrorist attacks has resulted in a change of career path. I still wish to follow the line of journalism, but broadcasting is now an area I am keen to look into. It is all very well writing a piece of opinion journalism on whether ‘The Voice’ is a better talent show that ‘The X Factor’, but where is the meaning? Broadcasting is something that is different, it is something that helps. Communication in situations like this is key- to make as many people aware of the situation as quickly as possible prevents similar attacks occurring. Which is why this is something I would like to dedicate my life to. I will still be writing and doing the thing that I love, but the message I will be communicating will be important. Yes sometimes it could be dangerous, but if you can be put in the same danger whilst on holiday can that really be considered a veritable reason not to do it?

I guess overall the point I am trying to get across is that events like these are not something you should read about, be horrified for a day or two, and then forget. Whether you were there or not, to neglect these events would only be to render the deaths of innocent people pointless. It is poor consolation, but maybe in the changing of the course of my life to do better and to be a better person, the deaths of those victims would not entirely be in vain. 







Wednesday 2 March 2016

Jesus: a bearded hipster for losers

Earlier this week, a student came into my English lecture promoting an event organised by the Christian Union. A series of talks featuring different speakers with the title 'Convinced', aimed at encouraging the Christian faith and informing others of the work that the Christian Union do. Being brought up as a Christian, this should have been enough to spark up an interest within me, although I have to say it wasn't until I saw the titles of the talks that I truly decided to go along. 

So this evening I wandered along to one of the many churches in Manchester to hear a talk titled 'Jesus; a bearded hipster for losers. Convinced?' A controversial and extremely thought-provoking title, produced by fervent Christians themselves, suggested I was in for a very interesting evening. It was a well-put-together session all in all- the tables were dressed up, wine and cakes on offer, band playing- the kind of event that almost puts my school prom to shame! The part I want to focus on however, the part that really struck me was when one of the speakers who stood up to tell us all about her introduction to Christianity. 

So she stood up, a relatively average looking woman, with bleached blonde hair, filled-in eyebrows and relatively simple clothing- someone you would walk past a million times on the street without noticing- without taking any time to think about her beliefs, her experiences, or her past. And then it struck me. All the people here, were here because they shared something in common. Something amazing- a belief, a faith and a conduct with which they lead their lives. Countless times I have probably walked past them in the streets, and never once passed a thought for their lives or for their feelings- never once realised they were Christian. The sense of community and belonging filled me. Although I had never spoken to a single one of these people before- they all knew each other, had built friendships and such, we were all fundamentally there for the same reason, faith. 

So anyway, after dwelling sometime on the strangeness of this revelation- that there are thousands of people out there, such fervent believers who you could brush past, make eye contact with, or even have a conversation with and never know about such an immense part of their personal lives, she began speaking. 

She spoke first of all of her non-descript background. Brought up in a non-Christian home, worked as a reporter, smoked weed on a regular basis- just an average person, exactly fitting to her original appearance. Then when she spoke of her revelation, of her moment of recognition, she became someone different. All of a sudden she had a depth to her- something we just assume that no stranger ever has. She became more than the average person on the street. She spoke of how she believed Jesus helped her out of her drug addiction, how she filled the hole inside her when even she couldn't work out what was missing. Her faith gave her a personality, something that marked her out from other people. On the outside, she was still the same as everyone else, but inside she was something special. 

I was amazed, not just at what she spoke about, but more the passion with which she spoke. It stuck me, for probably the first time, that everyone here had a much greater depth to them than I could ever know about- be it religion, memories, experiences. Sometimes we are too wrapped up in our own world to realise that everyone else has a world just as big as well. We may go along, thinking we are the only Christian, for example- passing thousands of others who are just the same as us, but whom we simply brush off as filling the template of another non-descript person. 

Religion is something, that whether you believe in it or not, undoubtedly strengthens and complicates the existence of an individual. It does not matter if God is real for you or not, it is incontestable that for those who do believe, their lives have so much more purpose than those who don't. They have a code of conduct, a reason for being here, and an aim to work towards. This precisely was the message of this woman's speech- that until she found Jesus, there was a part of her that was missing, her whole life seemed askew because she didn't have religion, and religion was the point. 

It does not matter what it is that fills that missing piece in you- whether it is religion or family or anything. We do all have a gap, because without that gap being filled, without a purpose to life, we become robots, or the templates I previously mentioned- completing tasks for no real reason, merely going through  the motions. So maybe the title of the talk was partly correct then. Jesus is for losers- those who have lost the purpose to life- that part inside themselves. He reverses them and puts them back on track. So yes, I am convinced- Jesus can hardly do much for winners- it is the losers who need the help.