London 7/07

On Thursday morning as I slipped out of bed I automatically clicked on the remote control for the morning news on TV. It is routine as I drag myself out of dream-mode and into day-mode, not necessarily to gear up for a work day. I froze as I stared at the images on the screen – panic on the streets of London, bloodied people emerging from the London Underground and those words uttered over and over again: terrorist bombings. Apparently, not just in one location but reminiscent of my own experience in Manila on December 2000, several bombs within the span of an hour was detonated in three subway carriages and a double-decker bus. It was meant to be carnage and nothing less.

As I listened to the monotoned narrations of correspondents clutching microphones and staring blankly onto the cameras, I got on the phone with a friend and we talked about how this would have the same fingerprints as those who had slammed two planes into the World Trade Center towers on a fine September day almost 4 years ago. But still, we talked about it like two people detached from events that was unfolding about 3,500 miles away.

At work, our international representation is predominantly European with majority coming from the UK. Although there are 8 Americans 3 are second generation Italians, Irish or of British descent; two are Scottish, three are British, one is German. Then there are the three girls including myself who are all Filipinas and then one Indian, one from Belize.

I asked around if they had family and friends accounted for in London. Generally, the reply had been yes but I forgot to ask someone. Eventually I learned towards the middle of the afternoon that he had been calling up hospitals in London in search for his brother who had boarded the train just a few minutes before the blast. And then he was never heard of again.

No one at work knew of his dilemma and he didn’t really want to make a big deal of it. He sat through his scheduled meetings bravely and when he had his breaks, dialed London from his office to continue on his search.

This morning when I arrived, I asked about our friend and realized that he had indeed been able to confirm that his brother was one of the victims of the bombing of the train at King’s Cross station. He had contacted a hospital in London at 1030 PM and was informed of his critical condition. My friend immediately traveled to JFK airport and boarded the next plane to London, leaving behind his wife whose passport has expired.

From London he called up apologizing that he won’t be able to attend some meetings he had scheduled or submit reports that were pending. Needless to say, anyone in the office would have volunteered to cover for him if not that his boss cancelled his scheduled vacation for the whole of next week to take on his duties. It was a way to try to console him and remind him that we understood that there were more pressing matters on hand that demanded his attention.

He shared that his brother had been brought in for another round of surgery to save his legs although both had already been damaged by the bombings. He was almost dead when he was found by the medics and his condition is still very fragile.

This is a young man who went into the subways with no extreme political agenda. He is just another person going through the chores that makes for a regular day to a regular person. He is special to his family and friends and a girlfriend who had seen him walk out of a room to finish some errands not expecting that he would be walking into the trappings of a mad person’s evil doings. In the same way that he is no one special, just a regular person on the street trying to live his life.

Why is this war waged on people like him? What message do these extremists need to send to the world by killing innocent people on their way to work just trying to make a living? Students just trying to get through school to live promising lives, tourists who just want to go away to see a beautiful city all become targets. What rights have they to bring the young or old or joyful lives to a halt to publicize their political agenda? What religion had empowered them to yield death’s sickle?

For the meantime my daughter worries about me endlessly. She emails me to be careful and to stay clear of the subways. Sadly, to travel from my apartment to work, both ways require boarding public transport – either the bus or the subways. I try not to worry her by hopping on the bus instead and hoping no crazed man on this day will plan to blow up my ride into pieces to validate a political or religious statement.

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