The Art of Neighboring When Terrorists Attack Our Home

 

In 2016 I did a blog post in Chicago Now that was well read. Chicago Now is now offline and I didn't want to lose the post. I'm putting it up on this blog so there is an internet record of it. Though 6 years in the past I still reason this way. 

 

THE ART OF NEIGHBORING WHEN TERRORISTS ATTACK OUR HOME

 

I can’t imagine I’m the only one in Chicago land who the attack on the Brussels airport on March 23 felt a little too close to home. After all O’Hare is in our midst and one of the busiest airports in the world. The Belgium Kingdom has a Consulate in Chicago. There must be scads of us who hop on a plane at O’Hare and fly to or through Brussels. Not only would it be those of us with business in Belgium or Europe, but it also easily includes those with family and friends in former Belgium colonies like the Democratic Republic of Congo, Rwanda, and Burundi. I’ve walked out of the Brussels airport and then got back in the departure line where the bombs went off. My family rested on chairs like the ones I see victims resting upon. It is not hard to see myself with little kids nearby when the bomb went off. In fact, as I watched Facebook friends check off that they were safe I knew many of us felt the ISIS attack in Brussels was close to home. As I checked around my Chicago home I even found my 13 year old son was checking to make sure his friends in Belgium were safe.

 

I also can’t imagine I’m the only one in Chicago who felt like Al Shabaab’s attack on the Westgate Mall in Nairobi, Kenya from September 21 to 24 2013 was also a little too close to home. Chicago land’s Woodfield Mall feels comparable in size and selection to Nairobi’s Westgate Mall. Chicago has attracted Kenyan students and professionals. There is a thriving Kenyan community in Chicago and they celebrate frequent Kenyan wins at the Chicago Marathon. For those not familiar with Kenya, Nairobi is the economic hub of East Africa. If you’ve done business in East Africa you pass through Nairobi. If you’ve ever been part of some benevolent mission in East Africa you’ve probably passed through Nairobi. While in Nairobi there are opportunities to shop, play, and eat in the malls that are not so frequent in rural parts of Africa. There must be hundreds of us in Chicago land who frequented the Nairobi’s Westgate Mall. During the four day siege we watched the news constantly. I don’t know any in Chicago that counted the lost 67 lives as family. Yet, as we watched funerals on YouTube we saw pastors we knew perform funerals and we watched neighbors grieve. 

 

The numbers may get a bit smaller of those who can quickly list a few more times terrorists have

attacked places we consider home, but I’ve got two more. On July 10 2010, Al Shabaab set off bombs in two locations in Kampala, Uganda. Though I was posted in Rwanda at the time we had lived 11 years previous in Uganda. Both the Ethiopian Village restaurant and the Kyadondo Rugby Club (where bombs exploded) were places we frequented. My wife, Jana loves Ethiopian food and sometimes we share it on our Friday dates. My kids played soccer with Kampala Kids League and a couple of times our teams practiced at the Kyadondo Rugby Club. The bombs went off while crowds were watching World Cup soccer games on big screen televisions. New Vision, a local newspaper was sponsoring the World Cup event at the Kyadondo Rugby Club. These are the type of events I on occasion attended.

 

It is not a big stretch of the imagination to see myself at the Brussels airport, Westgate Mall, Ethiopian Village, or Kyadondo Rugby Club when terrorists attacked. My places of comfort on my journey with many earthly homes have been attacked. My guess is that there are a few hundred like me in Chicago. The attacks can feel personal, but they are not. We whose sense of home safety has been violated just carry a few unique characteristics. We’re educated, international, entrepreneurial, and fun loving. We live in airports, shopping malls, ethnic restaurants, and sports establishment. We carry passports from nations with significant disagreements with international terrorist organizations. We can easily become collateral damage. People like us gravitate to Chicago land with its diversity and big shoulders opportunity. Yet, this diversity has implications bigger than our entrepreneurial instinct. Every now and then we do a google or twitter search and see rumors that terrorist organizations have networks in Chicago. Just skimming through census reports we see similar languages and places of birth with those who terrorized our other homes. This really freaks me out and I’m sure I’m not alone.

 

How do we respond when terrorists attack our home?

 

Take a deep breath. Those who show up in Chicago as refugees from places like Latin American drug war zones, Eastern Congo, Southern Sudan, and Syria have seen much worse. I’d like to believe my middle class economy, education, and international connections keep me safe. What’s violated is my sense of safety, but ultimate safety is never more than an illusion that denies both human frailty and depravity. 

 

Fear is the terrorists’ goal. Their desired response is for us to wallow in fear. That fear can easily produce two outcomes. The first is to be too emotionally paralyzed to live. We travel less, take less entrepreneurial risks, and cease to laugh with family and friends over good food and music. The second is to act out of prejudice and rage. We ponder the outlandish. Sometimes we even speak and act in hateful ways.

 

Yet, the wisdom of the ages from generations past whispers to us, “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.” That wisdom is part of many religions experience. It is also part of the movements that changed the world. Those movements were polarizing to their contemporaries. Yet, history has been remarkably kind to those who loved their neighbors well. We must particularly do that today. In times of terror close to home we must increase our skill in the art of neighboring. 

 

Practically, what does that look like? How do I do this?

 

First, I must simply know my neighbors. I smile when I inadvertently make eye contact with a stranger. I say, “Good morning or good afternoon, sir / mam.” I meet those who are close in proximity. I know my neighbors’ names and a few details about their lives. When appropriate I do just a little more. I pick up trash that is not my own, shovel an extra sidewalk, and help jump start a car. I also must know myself well enough to know we all leave some form of dog poop nearby. Pick up your dog poop. 

 

Second, don’t let kindness become an excuse for idiot behavior. Idealists hope to create a better world through kindness. Pragmatists recognize nonsense thrives in anonymity. Some of my neighbors are not good people. I lock my doors. I turn on the lights at night. I call the police if something doesn’t feel right. A concerned phone call makes more sense and looks less paranoid when I’ve been a good neighbor.

 

Third, I must make some friends who are different from me. One of my most profound moments after the Westgate tragedy was realizing that though I had lived 19 years in East Africa and took pride in my diverse friendships I struggled to be able to name a single Somali friend. I had absorbed the region’s prejudices and needed to make amends by forming new friendships. Practically, I started drinking tea and eating food in Chicago’s Somali restaurants. I used Somali taxi drivers. I made a couple Somali friends and found them to have many similarities with myself. 

 

Though today’s immigration rhetoric tends to focus on the immediate and who should or should not be

admitted into the United States as an immigrant almost all those identified in the recent terror attacks are citizens of the nations attacked. Most are second generation immigrants who were unable to find a sense of home. I can easily assign some sense of group blame until I realize two matters. First, my own kids are quite similar to second generation immigrants. If not for good fortune of a few friends, a decent school, and an opportune moment my own kids could have been seduced. Second, when we do the math for terror attacks in Western countries white frustrated males are the profile, and I can sometimes be one. 

 

Thus as I seek out diversity I discover anew how similar is our human condition. I have some religious disagreements with the local imam. Yet, we deal with the same basic realities over and over again. Our people turn to us when life makes no sense. We ponder the profound seek to offer hope. The kids in his mosque go to school with the kids in my church. We can’t pretend we’re not part of the same community. We both pray for our young people’s success and hope they find a place to thrive. As we journey with our people we watch them marry, have children, process loss, at times thrive, and then pass from this earth. Though passing is never pleasant we both feel a sense of accomplishment when hundreds gather around a simple family and acknowledge this was a life well lived. We both grimace just a moment when the news features caricatures of us. At times the world speaks unjustly ill of the imam just as it times does me. If I won’t speak well of him why should any speak well of me.

 

Thus though terrorists attack my home I will still practice the art of neighboring.