I was drinking tea during our morning break time at school when I heard the news: Osama bin Laden was shot dead in Abottabad the night before. It hit me quite hard, and yet not in a way that I would have expected.
After ten years since the 9/11 attacks in the United States, it seemed ‘about time’ that the US military would finally find Osama bin Laden. But, at the news of his death, I felt as if I had lost a friend. Of course, not a friend in the sense that I knew him; I had know of him, and I felt we had something in common—something we shared.
I had followed his actions and movements in the news over the years, I lived in the same country as he did for some time and I knew people who held the same faith as he did. He was close enough to me, that had I taken a car, it would have been only a few hours before I arrived on his doorstep. He was someone I would have liked to have spoken to—to have had a chance at understanding his mind, what drove him and what he believed. He seemed to me a veteran of the War on Terror, a leader to be revered and feared. Perhaps it was only because of the archaic ideals of honouring one’s enemy that I felt this way. But whatever the reason, I felt I had shared the same earth as he did for some time, and lived under the same blue sky—we seemed to have something in common.
When I heard the news, I wasn’t quite sure how to react. How many people feel remorse over the loss of a hunted terrorist? How many people refrained from cheers and laughter? Perhaps it is a feeling that should be shared by more, or perhaps it was simply the silly feelings of a young idealist. At any rate, I feel sorry to have lost someone with whom I shared this world.
cross culture life, teaching, writing