We are on our own

I’m early to work because the roads are mostly empty. That’s not because of an extended holiday season. No, that finished last week. People are trying to stay home because of the Easter Sunday Attacks—they are uncertain where to go from here.

As I type these words away, I’m merely walking distance from Mahawela Gardens, where one gruesome episode of Sunday’s events unfolded. I also hear stories in hushed murmur about colleagues who have lost family members. I think back to the Sunday as it unfolded. I remember holding my baby tightly in my arms while my mind kept repeatedly asking for his forgiveness for the world we have created for his generation.

There’s no point in leaving yet another anecdote of the terror that took the lives of at least 259 people (including both Sri Lankans and friends of Sri Lanka) and left twice as many injured. They attacked places of worship, and they attacked hotels. Even before anything came to light, most of the Sri Lankans knew what it was—terrorism. They knew it because they had experienced it before, and in less than a decade, it had come to haunt them again—perhaps with a new face and a new carrier—yet terrorism.

We don’t know where to go from here. People are hurt. They are asking why. Where does this hate come from, and whom does it serve—serious questions. And our leaders, our political leaders…

Well, I am not going to dignify their collective pathetic response. They have provided all the evidence that they don’t have the country’s best interest. One of the most painful disillusionments came towards the end of last year when political factions enacted a political drama—the blatant lie they call public service.

When Christchurch happened merely a month ago, we saw how Prime Minster Jacinda Ardern held her nation in a gentle embrace, whispering words of comfort into their ears. Instead, we have a bunch of politicians bickering as to who should accept more blame, shamelessly claiming knowledge of prior warning—trying to wipe their hands clean. We have leaders callously smirking in press conferences while a country mourns. We have leaders disgustingly trying to capitalize on this tragedy. We have leaders acknowledging there were prior warnings, but they didn’t think this would come to pass. I can go on, but you already know this. Sri Lanka has come so far despite politicians, not because of them.

Extreme fundamentalist indoctrination—especially to the point where they would commit suicide bombing—does not happen overnight. Even after finding a large cache of explosives and terror intent, Sri Lanka wasn’t ready—the attacks came as a shock. To the general public, that is. The politicians from both sides of the aisle had been warned and had stayed away.

As we trek the treacherous terrains of terrorism, let us not forget that we are alone, together as one people of Sri Lanka. Just as we couldn’t rely on our politicians for other things like transportation and electricity—we can’t rely on them to heal this situation with the gravity and aptitude it needs. Most of the world has already delivered their condolences and moved on. All Sri Lankans are in this together—hopefully not entirely alone.

Racist sentiments are flowing again, and in the hurt and pain, the crowds may not see nuances—such as that an entire ethnicity or a religious group isn’t accountable for the ill deeds of a few. Fortunately, at least some people have learned lessons from the past—such as the Black July. Just as an entire religious group isn’t accountable for the acts of a few terrorists, let us remember that a country should not be complicit in the actions of a few racists.

Remember the names and faces of all the politicians who have failed us—you know what to do when you get to cast your votes. Just as you help to quell the flames of extremism, please help protect the communities—all the communities. Stay vigilant. Because we, my friend, are on our own—let us keep each other safe.