House of Horrors

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I wonder at times why we tend to lament more than celebrate. Generally speaking, humanity has enough on its hands to warrant such behavior. If we don't kill each other, we can trust 'fate', 'nature', or even cosmic events to give us reason enough to lament. Wherever you turn, there is bad news. There is nothing new in all of this. Humanity's history is replete with pain and sorrow. I suppose that had one lived in ancient times, say in Athens or Antioch, one would not learn of a typhoon in the Indian sub-continent that killed thousands. Less pain due to ignorance. Hence ignorance is bliss.

 Today, however, there is no hiding. Even while watching a football match on any given day, the scrolling newsreel at the bottom of the screen keeps you updated on misery and catastrophe. There is enough coming from politicians, business people and bankers, and last but not least, religious leaders who distribute enough misery to cover the planet and make the multitude of humanity suffer more when they are supposed to make their lives better and happier.

 The "American Dream" is now a nightmare of economic madness to many people in the USA itself. It threatens to spread wide and far. Europe is contributing its share of misery through its failing banks and member states. Our corner in the world is hardly a hallmark of stability. When you see sectarian violence in Egypt, you know that there is something fundamentally wrong. Egypt, for all its history, has been a haven for all religions and all ethnic groups. You are not surprised to hear of such violence in Lebanon, for example, but you never expect it in Egypt. That is the country's history, clear and simple.

 The long arm of madness and terror follows you wherever you go. There is no hiding from it. The terror is almost universal these days. The days of simply worrying about a mad motorist hitting you when you step out of the house are gone forever. These days you wonder who is going to blow you up. Who is going to slit your throat simply because you belong to another creed or ethnic minority? You wonder if your children at school will come back safe and sound. You count your pennies at the checkout counter of the supermarket and find out that the raise you got has already evaporated before it was deposited in your account.

 We all share in this generalized view of our modern sorrow and lamentation. I want to tell you about a personal experience that made me wonder how fragile our existence is and hence the contrast between celebration and lamentation. Just two weeks before the killing of a British tourist and the abduction of his wife from a five star resort on the coast of Kenya, I was occupying the same exact "hut" where the incident happened.

 With a British couple and an American friend I had planned my summer break to spend in several places in Kenya. The British couple suggested this resort, I suppose Rock stars staying there was recommendation enough. Well, little did I know. The huts have no doors, and are made from local material -bamboo and the like. No stone, no masonry, nothing. There was a comfortable bed, and a functional bathroom. That is all. Everything else was open to all and sundry. At 8 pm the electricity goes out and you are left listening to the ocean and wondering what sort of animal is going to creep into bed with you.

 Needless to say, I was rather uncomfortable. Had I wanted this setup, I could have gone to the desert of Arabia and camped. It is at least safer. It was clear to me that the setup of the resort was designed for calmer and safer times.

 I did not last more than two nights there. I left my friends because I was not comfortable. What is a vacation, after all, if not comfort? They stayed behind and a couple of days after they left, the incident happened and was followed by a second one.

 Misery has invaded even our paid vacations. What more can you ask for? The images of the dead man and his abducted wife in that hut that I stayed in haunt me. Not only was my vacation ruined, but now somehow I feel connected to those unfortunate people who are, were, and will, forever be, bystanders caught in the mayhem of our collective misery.