How can anyone live surrounded by violence?

These firsthand accounts from residents of Belfast, Jerusalem, and other cities show they have learned to cope

10/06/2001

Staff and contributors / The Dallas Morning News

After the tragedies of Sept. 11, Americans woke up to a new situation: living with the threat of terrorism and deciding how much their security fears would affect their lives.

In too much of the world, that is nothing new. Guerrilla wars, national instability and political violence force many people to cope with terrorism every day.

- Michael Precker

Jerusalem: 'You can't lock yourself up in your house'

JERUSALEM – Listening to the news first thing in the morning is a way of life here. It has always been that way, but these days we listen for news of drive-by shootings, mortar attacks, and suicide bombings.

Rick Bowmer / AP Life goes on for Jerusalem's residents, young and old, despite the constant threat of terrorism.

Just a couple of weeks ago at 7:45 a.m., when the only sounds were the birds singing and the neighbors going about their daily routine, the peaceful sounds of my neighborhood were shattered by an enormous bang. A bomb had gone off just a couple of minutes' walk from my house, close to our local shopping center.

Strange how the mind works. Years ago I probably would have been hysterical, but these days there's a pattern to my actions. Turn on the radio. Make those phone calls to family and friends to tell them I'm OK. I call my boss to say that I will be in late, because I know what happens. The area will be sealed off for some time while searches are carried out. Thank God, no one was killed in this bombing. We always say it's a miracle when no one is killed.

Have we become accustomed to suicide bombers in this country? Is accustomed the right word? I don't know. Am I afraid? Yes. Have I changed my routine? A little. I still walk around downtown, although I avoid the main streets when I can. I never go to the Old City. It's frustrating to live in one of the world's most beautiful cities and have to avoid a lot of it.

And there are places you do go, but you're nervous. There's a traffic light at the entrance to my neighborhood where a few things have happened, and it's a really long light. So when I have to stop, I feel myself getting agitated.

But you do what you have to do. You're careful, you worry, but you can't lock yourself up in your house. You get on with your life.

So I know I'll go to the mall when I need to. And I know I'll be impatient while waiting in line at the parking lot so that the security guard can check the trunk of my car and then waiting for another guard to check my purse at the mall entrance. Security checks are everywhere now – outside coffee shops, restaurants, bookstores, gift shops. They are time-consuming, sometimes irritating, but oh, so necessary.

Jean Max is an office manager who lives in Jerusalem.

Jakarta: 'The eerie thing is ... how quickly you get used to it'

By CYNTHIA MACKIE and JIM TARRANT / Special Contributors

Indonesians for the most part are very warm and friendly to Americans. But when we came back after a 1998 evacuation prompted by instability following the overthrow of President Suharto, things had changed. Citywide demonstrations went on constantly – some peaceful and some bloody.

Dita Alangkara / AP Guards patrol at the U.S. Embassy in Jakarta, Indonesia, where Muslim extremists have threatened Americans.

And Muslim extremists initiated a campaign to terrify Americans. Bomb threats were constant at the international school, which our son attended; the American Club; and the U.S. Embassy. These were scary because real bombs occasionally did explode in the city. The school buses all had two-way radio communications, a variety of possible routes, and safe havens en route if needed.

When we went out anywhere, we took many precautions. The car doors were always locked, and we avoided wearing any expensive jewelry or watches. We kept photocopies of our passports in the glove compartment. The embassy suggested we have $1,000 in cash for each family member squirreled away at our house. The embassy also had a phone tree that was occasionally activated, and we would get well-meaning messages such as: "All Americans are advised to be cautious."

The eerie thing about having chronic, low-level threats against you and your family while you are living overseas is how quickly you get used to it. The first year in Indonesia we were much more diligent about never leaving the house without a mobile phone, checking the news reports about possible violent demonstrations so we could map out exactly how we were going to get errands done. We kept a pile of $100 bills and open airline tickets to Singapore in the house, and we stocked up on items to last for two to three weeks. But as time went on, we sometimes forgot to do these things.

When we decided to adopt an Indonesian girl in 1999, we implicitly put our faith in the future of Indonesia's stability. We were required to undergo a six-month fostering period. If we had been evacuated during that time, we would have been stuck with no passport or legal rights to our daughter. Just in case, we obtained a special letter from the U.S. ambassador to Indonesia exempting us from any evacuation order. Luckily there was no evacuation, and we were able to complete the adoption process. Looking back, we are amazed at how easily we made that decision to take such a risk.

But life does go on.

Cynthia Mackie and Jim Tarrant lived in Jakarta with son Kevin and daughter Melati from August 1997 to September 2001 while Jim managed a large environmental project for the U.S. Agency for International Development.

Belfast: 'I watched whole streets burn'

BELFAST, Northern Ireland – Belfast is not the city under siege it used to be. But years of violence have left a mark on the landscape and a minority of people who still engage in communal violence and sectarian hatred.

I watched whole streets burn in the pogroms of the 1970s when I went to school here. Much has changed, and much has stayed the same.

Peter Morrison / AP Carmel Grant looks out her home's window in Northern Ireland, where Catholic-Protestant fighting persists.

The indiscriminate terrorist bombing campaigns have ended as a result of the paramilitary cease-fires, which means commercial life in the heart of the city has experienced a new lease on life.

In the bad old days, not only would you be searched entering every thoroughfare in the central business district, but also on entering every shop, bar or office building. People got used to that, and in certain areas the apparatuses, such as security gates, can still be seen.

The city is still one of stark contrasts. A distance of less than half a mile can take you from what Americans would recognize as depressed ghettos littered with the paraphernalia of sectarian flags, murals, and painted street curbs to decidedly affluent areas, where professional middle and upper classes pay up to $450,000 for executive properties.

At night the young disaffected, still under the influence of the shadowy figures of the past, take to the streets, and when rioting gets going the city gets little sleep as British Army helicopters hover above for most of the night.

Thousands will make their way to work the next day, and listen to the latest statistics on the radio, and think it is only a handful of troublemakers who caused their sleepless night. Most people realize it's a small price to pay for the undoubted progress of the past five or six years.

They now have top bands, concerts to go to as you would expect in any other major European city. They even have the Belfast Giants, a top ice hockey team playing in the top U.K. league, adding to a general revitalized buzz of commercial activity in their city.

It is bad at times, but a far cry from the days when whole streets of neat little homes were burned to the ground and psychopathic killers stalked the streets, carrying out drive-by shootings when they weren't abducting to kill, maim or stab.

Frank McNamara is a reporter for The Irish News, a Belfast newspaper.

Colombo: 'I have mastered the art of inconspicuousness'

By DILSHIKA JAYAMAHA / Special Contributor

COLOMBO, Sri Lanka – Taking a walk or driving to meet friends for dinner is a logistical operation in Colombo.

"Have you got your ID?" I ask on the way out.

"Turn here!" my husband reminds me as I drive. He wants to avoid a checkpoint.

My American husband and I have mastered the art of inconspicuousness. We choose inconvenient routes to avoid checkpoints; we take small, nearly empty bags for news conferences, as even tampons or batteries raise the suspicions of security personnel. We've grown used to waiting: arrive at the airport three hours ahead – every bag is searched by hand; wait up to four hours for the president to appear at an event.

In their 18-year fight for a homeland for Sri Lanka's 3.2 million Tamil citizens, the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam have often used suicide bombers to bring the battle right to the capital, mostly with explosive-laden trucks and suicide jackets.

Last weekend, a road cleaner found a suicide jacket filled with six pounds of plastic explosives and hundreds of ball bearings, which fly out and lacerate people in a wide radius. It was on the road that I take to work.

Fear is one thing we've grown used to. As journalists, we find ourselves closer to the mayhem than most. July 24 saw both of us face down behind sand-filled barrels during a massive attack on Sri Lanka's only international airport. We filed reports by phone while commandos and rebels exchanged fire.

But living in Sri Lanka, violence and security blend into daily life. The island of 18.5 million people off India's southern coast is a lush tropical oasis. Colombo boasts great restaurants and nightlife, interesting theater and unbelievable shopping.

At shopping malls I impatiently hold open my bag for security officers. We swear under our breaths at 2 a.m. when armed soldiers arrive for a house-to-house search. People suspected of rebel links can be detained for up to 18 months without charge.

The vigilance doesn't make us feel safe. The police even checked neckties at a political rally in December 1999, but a suicide bomber slipped in. The president was blinded in her right eye and 25 others died.

We cannot say how "normal" life continues in these circumstances. But it does. Compared to many in the war zones, we are lucky. We never forget to treasure every minute of our lives together.

Dilshika Jayamaha, a native of Colombo, is a reporter for The Associated Press.

Bogotá: 'Home is not the safest place'

By SILVIA DANGOND / Special Contributor

When I think about my life in Colombia, I think about my family and friends. I think about the beautiful country where I was born. I think about the people, their kindness, and their loving manners.

But I also remember the precautions that you have to take every day. We live our everyday life with the constant fear of being killed, kidnapped, or simply disappearing.

AP A woman sits in front of a house destroyed by a car bomb explosion north of Bogotá, Colombia. The country is torn by wars among guerrillas, paramilitaries, and the army.

Guerrillas not only blow up towns, infrastructure, schools, and churches all around the country. They have managed to gain control of the most important highways and roads all around the nation. It is not safe even to travel 10 miles out of Bogotá without having the fear of being kidnapped. The massacres committed by paramilitaries also contribute to the state of panic.

This situation, plus the insecurity, the criminal activities, and the lack of effective security measures, makes life in Colombia very difficult. You cannot go to your work without extreme precautions.

You cannot use any jewelry at all. You have to have some money in your car for people that you will encounter in every corner of every street. Most of them are people that come to the big cities looking for a safer place. Because of the violence (the war between guerrillas, paramilitaries and the army), they have abandoned their own cities or towns.

You also have to be very careful with the route that you take to work. It is better if you change it every day to avoid being followed. It is also recommended that you call your family or friends to tell them where you are. This is a rule, because you hear every day of hundreds of people who have disappeared or been kidnapped.

If you have children, you cannot let them play alone outside. They are used to the situation, because they have never been alone in a park or in a mall. They stay at home, or if they go out, they always have someone taking care of them. They know they live in a very insecure place. Parents teach children to distrust everybody, except for friends or family, and tell them every day not to open the door to strangers, and never talk to anyone in the streets.

It is better if at night you stay home. But home is not the safest place, either. Apartments and houses are robbed every day.

In Colombia you learn to live in constant fear. Sometimes you are sad, sometimes you are angry, sometimes it is difficult to have any reaction at all to the bad news. Sometimes it is difficult to love Colombia.

Probably this is why I am not afraid of what is going on here in the United States. Even though it was a shock for me, I am familiar with this situation. I know how to live in the present, accepting that I am not sure if tomorrow I will be alive.

Silvia Dangond, a native of Bogotá, is a graduate student at George Mason University in Fairfax, Va., but returns frequently to Colombia. She is a correspondent for two newspapers and a radio station in Colombia.