The sorrow is deep, the sorrow is shared

It was around one o'clock in the morning and I could not sleep. Nothing was unusual as quite often my sleeping hours are not exactly comfortable.

The humming of the air-conditioner might be good for my body temperature but it disturbs my mind, like a big mosquito that you cannot swat. But that morning my mind was bothered by something more.

I gave up and got out of bed. Wearily I plodded downstairs contemplating a cup of tea or perhaps a glass of warm milk, which I have been told can help encourage sleep.

I was too weary, though, to go to the trouble of fumbling around in the kitchen and as I lazily dropped to the sofa and sprawled across it in the hope that sleep might come in this location, if not in my bed, my hand fell upon the television's remote control. As a reflex my thumb sent the signal from the remote to the TV but no picture greeted my eyes. Only a blue screen that hurt my eyes.

Well, it was the early hours of the morning and most of the local TV stations were closed down for a few hours. Again instinctively the thumb worked its magic across the remote.

BBC World soon arrived and the news of a bombing grabbed my attention. Sadly one has become so used to bomb attacks in the Middle East that that troubled region immediately came to mind.

But .... No, wait!

The map on the screen was familiar and as the sleepy mind slowly engaged and the bleary eyes focused, it became clear that the map on the screen was the Indonesian archipelago and the island highlighted was Bali.

At first there were no pictures of what had happened. There was only oral reporting and the details were sketchy.

Another news item was turned to and my skilled thumb changed the channel to CNN, hoping it might have more information.

But no. CNN was still busy with U.S. President George W. Bush and Iraq.

Back to the BBC and the first pictures were filtering through of palm-thatched buildings ablaze in the black night. Wreckage falling from the blasted building, the image was hellish as was the report. An apparent car bomb blew away a huge section of Legian and hundreds of holidaymakers and Balinese were killed.

The sleepiness and weariness were gone now. The mixed feelings of shock, disbelief and revulsion took over.

Bali was an old friend. It was reliable and true; a place of respite and relaxation from the storms of life. But it was under attack suddenly. Bali was badly hurt, and this hurt me.

Fears for friends that might have been there filled my mind and phone calls were made quickly. A certain sense of relief was gained to find that they were alright. However, there was no relief from this bombing.

A place that had come to represent a peaceful oasis among all the chaos of our world had fallen victim to the world's chaos. It used to be that Western embassies in Jakarta would post warnings about the dangers to foreigners around the Indonesian archipelago but Bali was mostly left off this list of infamy, but what now?

The peace has been shattered.

The cliches and hackneyed reporting began early Sunday after the horrible scenes at Legian.

Various media reporters came up with the likes of "Paradise has been lost", "Innocence has been slaughtered", "The island is no longer the abode of Gods". All of this was empty wording.

The enormity, the ugliness of what had happened was difficult to portray in words. To try to describe the pain and agony of loss was futile and reporters hurrying about their jobs on Bali could never succeed in their attempts to represent the suffering of these events.

Monday, Oct. 14, was a bright, sunny morning and life must go on. The sorrow was deep, the pain was agonizing but both feelings were shared.

Petty notions of race, religion, nation can and should be set aside in response to such inhumanity toward humanity. Our humanity must bring us together to abhor these foul acts.

As a Western man living in Indonesia, it almost felt strange to have Indonesian colleagues and friends offering their apologies and commiserations for what had happened. Of course, it could be understood, as quickly it became clear that the majority of the victims were Westerners. But we were all victims here.

As a Westerner, it was possible to have a love for Bali but also for many other parts of the stunning archipelago of Indonesia. That love informs, guides and stimulates sorrow for what happened in Bali. The sorrow was, though, multifaceted. There was the gut-wrenching sorrow for all the death, destruction and horrific injury, but also the sorrow that any person or persons would get so lost in hatred that they would execute such an evil plan.

The sorrow has to be our sorrow. Our shared pain over what has happened but our sorrow should guide us back to love and not hatred. Our sorrow should force us to seek better understanding and tolerance of each other.

This is, after all, precisely what Bali was and, of course, still is all about. The Balinese have accepted many millions of visitors to their shores, without wishing to condemn or condone their differences.

Balinese life, centered around seeking inner and outward peace, has grown from that. We must all now attempt to find our own inner peace with what has happened through understanding and learning from our sorrow.

-- Simon Marcus Gower