Someone's home

Even from a distance of thousands of miles, the last week was difficult, painful and deeply unsettling. Between refreshing news and checking up on family and friends, there was a sense of loss and a mighty dread that I felt. I cannot even begin to imagine the anxiety among those whose neighbourhood was pierced by the ugly sounds of drones, missiles and sirens. I am not sure I will ever be able to understand the fear of the unknown that enveloped households in the whole region.

Much was shared online, and through WhatsApp messages. Some of it was thoughtful and empathetic, but quite a lot of it was not. There were doctored videos, old images and half-baked stories with bombastic claims. There were also videos of destruction - much of it unverified. There is much to be grateful for today, as peace is an extraordinary privilege and a gift, but also a moment to reflect on what is worth cheering and what is not. As the weapons shook the cities and destroyed the buildings, I hope there is a recognition that a video of building being blown up, that we are too eager to share or post on social media, is not simply another sight; it is an event that can, and often does, and in its wake creates orphans, heartbroken siblings, lost spouses and grieving parents. It brings about misery - often among those who have done nothing wrong. It destroys houses and dreams that were painstakingly built by love, lifetime of savings and years of effort. It causes trauma of a lifetime. There is nothing to celebrate in the fire and the cloud of smoke that makes a grand visual, but leaves ashes and grief for so many to sift through for generations.

We have seen sights like these for decades, in lands near and far, in places dear to us and in lands which are beyond our care zone. It is easy to dismiss these images in our otherwise over-scripted lives. It is easy to imagine them happening to nameless people of unknown families, and therefore of no concern to us. In some cases, we have come to expect these sights as nothing out of the ordinary, or as a permanent feature in the lives of some people. But those people could be us, and the folks we care deeply about. Last week reminded us that those people are us. We must ask, why should it be OK for any child to have to wake up to the sound of gunfire? Why should we dismiss - as a normal and routine act - shelling of a house, a school or a place of worship in a border town? Or in a city deep in the heartland? If the very idea of having to live through the events of last week was unacceptable for us, why is it OK for anyone else?

As ugly as the last week was, I hope there is a greater appreciation of our shared humanity, and the fundamental right of everyone to safety and dignity. And everyone should mean everyone - not those who we like based on the colour of their skin, religion, politics or wealth. I hope that the last week will renew our sense of empathy and connection, and what we want for our children is exactly what we will want for others. A place where people can go to sleep at night without having to hear the sounds of drones, missiles or sirens. At this moment of reflection, shaped by our lived experience that we hope is never repeated, we can choose the path of jibes, jeers and taunts, or the path of empathy, kindness and a shared bond of humanity. We can imagine that the homes that are no are now mangled rubble and twisted metal, could have been ours.