THE constant news on terrorism reminds me of my teacher who shared a story about paranoia.
She said in a public bus sat a black bag under the seat of a man who sat right across her. As the bus stopped at a roadside café to allow passengers to address bodily functions, the man got off, my teacher said.
“I wasn’t really that suspicious, but I was really nervous and contemplating on vacating my seat, thinking that the bag contained a bomb.”
Needless to say it didn’t. Just imagine her relief when the man returned to his seat. My teacher said more than anything, she didn’t want to have parts of her scattered all over whatever would be left of the bus and look like an omelet.
One can’t help but get paranoid, especially when recently terrorism and those who perpetrate crimes against humanity are in the news a lot, reminding one that they can strike anywhere.
A terrorist can be your copassenger on a plane, or some random guy jostling through a peopled sidewalk or someone or other above you flying on an incognito chopper. It can be some driver who parked his sport-utility vehicle onto a spot where your nephew usually plays in the afternoon, or the seemingly innocuous guy standing next to you in a packed elevator.
Since terrorism has been a mainstay in the news, I remind people I care for to shy away from public places if they can, or, if they can’t, at least look for signs that every stranger nearby might be sheepishly pulling off the pin of some hand grenade.
This is why one cannot really quantify the victims of terrorism. Because more than, say, the scores dead and injured in violence wrought by terrorism, the real victims are those who live in fear.
