It was international news, so hopefully you know already [if you rely on this column for news, you should really subscribe to Gulf News post-haste and start reading the front sections, instead], but last week there was a bomb in Bangkok, killing 20 people. Bombs in Bangkok aren’t a hugely rare event due to the turbulent politics of the region but this one was the biggest terrorism attack in the country yet.
The location was right across from my old office and 20 minutes from my house. Every time I think about it, I feel sick. Who would do this? Whatever your anger and whatever your agenda, how can this ever be the answer? I’ll never understand.
I don’t have any great insight into it, because I’ll leave that to the police and the “proper” journalists. It’s when things like this happen that I feel a bit silly about my journalism degree, which I have used to write about shoes, lipstick and beach resorts for most of my career. I’ve never done a day’s reporting on anything that mattered in my life.
When I first heard about the bomb, I was across town in the gym, obliviously tweeting about my kettlebell workout. Unlike those brave journalists who headed out onto the street when they heard the news, I called my friends to check they were OK, updated my Facebook status to tell everyone I was fine and then planned my escape route home — my train takes me right over the shrine.
I’m not brave and, I’m not ashamed to say it, I’ve been really scared this week. I am on Twitter all the time checking for updates and getting jumpy over “suspicious objects” which turn out to be sweet wrappers and rattan balls, my heart stops when I hear sirens and I go a bit sweaty in crowds. I can’t imagine the terror of being in the vicinity that night.
The first responders on the scene deserve so much credit. Being professional and helpful even when they’re witnessing unimaginable atrocities; just incredible. Add to that the rumours of further bombs in the area and you have real life super heroes. I have so much respect for the people who can risk it all and go out there to help total strangers. I didn’t see a thing and went home a tearful wreck.
Life is getting back to normal here now. There’s no other option but to be “business as usual”. But the malls are quieter and I feel more aware of the situation when I’m in a crowded space. The shrine is busy again with people laying flowers, taking photos of the freshly lain concrete, Buddha’s chipped face, Alexander McQueen’s blown out windows and an empty space where the benches once were. It’s no loss compared with the human loss, but it’s Bangkok’s fresh scar and one that will take a little while to heal.
In the four and a half years I’ve been in Bangkok, the city has been through floods, a shutdown, months-long protests, a coup, several [small] bombs and, now this.
Tourism will suffer, the Thai baht will suffer, morale will suffer and we’ll all feel a little uneasy for a while. There’s never a dull moment in Bangkok and, perhaps that’s why it’s so resilient. Thailand is brilliant at accepting what happened and moving forward because, what else can you do? Thank goodness this city is hardier than I am. Su su! [Thai for ‘fight on!’]
